Charles Burchfield, Journals, January 19, 1942

The January thaw.—Thick almost impenetrable fog—The pores of the earth seem to open and exude a chill dampness into the sodden air—The ice in the creek breaking up, but no real flood water yet—The great cakes of ice, haphazard along the creek,—

Soon lost in the obscurity of fog, the creek vista seems to extend to infinity—A pale silvery violet-gray quality to the sinking snow - Except, of course the piles along the street, which are dark licorice gray, highly polished by the melting process.—

Laying in the ground work for the additions to water bringing it into harmony with the original—prepatory to the real work.

Evening letters to F.R. and the girls.

Charles Burchfield, January 19, 1942