Charles Burchfield, Journals October 16, 1913

It is with some regret that I look over my last few entries before coming to Cleveland. In them I see an overgrowing ease in describing nature which - all at once has been nipped by my coming to Cleveland. Lack of time and the nature of my school work pre-vents an absorbing observation of nature.

When I am going to school I am an artist. My expression must come thru  painting not thru writing. The love of nature is still there and the observation of beautiful sights. But their observation does not suggest a beautiful paragraph to me - no it is rather a beautiful picture. It shall be my endeavor to try to combine these two inclinations, and work them as one. And what a joy there will be if I am successful.

While Joe was on a week-and trip to Salem, I spent Sunday at Florence Parker’s. While out there we had an interesting discussion about religion. In defense I told her of my love of nature as being my religion. I wish that I had not. It is only cheapen to discuss it with someone.

What wonderful weather is this fall weather - I can only describe it as capricious. Weather of the Indian Summer type prevails - smoky days of warm elusive sunshine, Spring-breezes, fast shedding trees, burning leaves from which comes that rich spicy smoke that we fairly drink in, bright colors, tangy nights of mottled skies and bright moon. But in between the calm post-summer days come days of capricious weather - weather of such unexpected quirks and fancies that we are carried away by their delightfulness. Saturday began with a dull chilly autumn rain. Early afternoon found the rain had ceased and a cold wind blowing from the lake. A sketch required for our class in perspective brought me downtown near the Union Depot. Here within a few yards of the rough, white-capped lake, I stood in the cold wind and sketched. Day closed with a sparkling sunset of pale sky + pale orange clouds.

Sunday opened with clear blue sky and bracing wind. By early afternoon it was raining. By middle afternoon it had ceased. Towards dusk Florence + I took a walk out on the Dennison-Harvard Bridge. Here we noticed how like Spring it was. Down in the valley a song-sparrow sang gayly. The clouds were dreamy and whimsical as after a spring rain.

Darkness brought a clear cold sky and bright moon. Then earl in the evening, even while the moon was shining, we were startled by loud thunder. In a few moments a fierce storm followed with dashing rain, hail and snow. After it was gone, a wind-storm came driving away the clouds and driving the earth.
What delightful weather!

Charles Burchfield, October 16, 1913