Charles Burchfield, Journals, February 12, 1921

I bought horse-radish at the market in Cleveland –

What intoxication. The February sun has started roofs to dripping glittering water – The streets are full of water, muddy slush – The crude hideous buildings glow with brilliant color, and I feel as if I would like to embrace them –

The great piles of suet – warm pink – take on a new glory; large chunks of beef produce a thrill because of their quantity. In and out of this conglomeration of vegetables and meat go the nondescript masses of humanity every face, however blank, borrowing romance from the exciting season of the year. It is no longer a bore to ooze along with the crowd like slow-moving molasses. Outside the biting chill of the air makes welcome the blue smoke from bonfires in the plush; the white sky becomes more intense in the pools of melted snow in the street; there is a feeling of wide-stretching fields all around.

Charles Burchfield,  February 12, 1921