Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, February 20, 1915

A Spring day. The sky is streaked vague blue and white; sunlight dim; the streets are dusty; the air is warm; almost motionless, yet there is a subtle coolness which is pleasant.

[P.M. Walk thru Gordon Park to Lake with E -. There is the smell of earth in the air.  I feel as if I must find an Hypatica some-where.  Lake beautiful - a wonderful luminous green in long stretching streaks uniting with the slate blue sky - a symphonic Poem of color against which play yellow-twigged willows, red bushes, and green cottonwoods.  A wind from N.E. which ruffled the lake slightly, and as we walked along, white caps commenced to appear, appearing and disappearing like fire - flies in a night woods in July. There was such a freshness of “look” about it that my desire was to jump naked in its waves.] Unfortunately the lake front here is owned by privacy-loving millionaires and so we have to keep much to the boulevard.  At one place E - turned aside to look into a greenhouse.  I did too but was sorry as I saw violets in full bloom.  It hurt as much as the first time I saw and heard a robin in January.  Immediately after, we were delighted in seeing a lawn dotted with snow-drops.  I could scarce realize it was true. This our “Indian Spring” and it will be hard to return to winter again.

When I think of the woods and the thought that at home songsparrows & bluebirds are singing, such a feeling of yearning comes that the desire to cut it all and go to the woods seems irresist­able (sic).  I was fortunate enough to hear a crow.

Now as I write, it is late afternoon, the sun is only a glow, with a vague rainbow around it; the air is full of mist and light. The sound of clashing street cars even has a sound of spring in it; at noon I heard a carpenter’s saw - it brought Spring.  All sounds acquire a new significance.

Charles E. Burchfield, February 20, 1915