Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, November 8, 1917

Nov 8, 1917 –

I awoke between midnight and dawn; the waning moon hung high in the eastern sky   it seemed like a great white eye; in the grey dusk of the dull moon – light I could see frost in the trees –

Dawn – Sweeping cloud rays radiate from SE, sky intense yellow – ground houses, trees almost a monotone of rich blue from heavy fresh –

Sun like molten silver   The whole SE a glare of white strange that no singing...fly up from the turf, but instead, far to the East thru the dense layers of white frost, haze comes the low whistle of a train –

On the walk to work – house roofs in shadow are purple while sky is watery cerulean – Sunlit houses of whatever local color are lighter than sky –

On hill above factories – to sound yellow haze blends land to sky – to west a huge bank of dark smoke, against it the frosted trees gleam white – beautiful lacework –

Noon – white faced dwellings dark blue north sky, green curtains in windows; dirty backyards old buildings, chickens, clothes hanging dilapidated on the lines; the houses have faces today (it is not always) there is yet a feel of October in the air, combined with a sunny January –

The Hawk-like aspect of Baptist church – 

Charles E. Burchfield