Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967), Winter Rain from the East (April Rain from the East), 1940; watercolor on cream wove paper, 18 1/16 x 25 1/16 inches; Princeton University Art Museums, Gift of James H. Beal, Class of 1920, and Mrs. Beal
Charles Burchfield, Journals, January 11, 1915
Monday, Jan 11, 2016
My view of Nature now is like seeing sunlight thru a board fence: here and there we see a flash of sunlight thru an unwary crack. I do not begrudge these years. I am now learning my grammar, without which I cannot speak intelligently. I come to this book to keep alive the pure love of nature that may I not become merely a grammarian.
The distances this morning were winter’s milky blue, against which the yellow twigged willows were a soft golden glow. Rain came at mid-afternoon. As I walked home thru the park, occasionally the rain seemed ever in the point of becoming snow some soft soggy flakes falling now and then. Rain-glossy branches were beaded with water-drops. The drops know the air is still bright, for they gather in all the light and throw it out again in dazzles. Sidewalks became slushy though there seemed not enough snow to make them so.
The analytical mind kills poetry. The rainbow was a supernatural event until someone explained it that falling rain broke up the sunlight into colors. Yet it is ignorance not to know it.
Charles E. Burchfield, January 11, 1915