Charles Burchfield, Journals, March 2, 1920

Following a raw sunshiny day—when the channels in the ice were filled with sparkling running water—at 5 o’clock the water is stilled; spears of ice creep out over the water from the edge—the air opens up; the cries of children & barking dogs resound at great distances. Trains roar & rattle through the town—The moon shines down on icebound Bloodroot Hollow, while in town freakish hideous houses rear up in queer attitudes.

A screaming freight-whistle opens up the far-stretching hills to the south; a harsh passenger train whistle comes out of the west.

The North glowers from the depths of black pine hollows, & in the east is cold silly [i.e. silvery] white moon.
Smell of new cut grass sapling bark comes on the wind out of the earth—The dappled moonlit sky recalls muddy pussywillows, swirling streams, and muddy boys with wild hair running with dogs thru the dry swamp grass—
All the old desires of childhood, adolescence & youth are born again to merge with the desires of manhood—The longing for idyllic love is abroad—.

The earth and sky has that haunting unknown sadness with which is yet joy—a warm breeze—

I came home from sketching, by moonlight—Up High, long & white —the big bulky black houses on both sides; the train whistle—the sharp particles of ice newly frozen crackle under my feet like firecrackers—

Charles Burchfield, March 2, 1920