Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, December 22, 1957

The oak-leaf—

I don’t know when I first noticed the oakleaf in Cottrell’s yard—but I think it was during a snowstorm in early November—Somehow it landed in such a way that it stands upright, about midway between the spruce tree outside our window and the chestnut tree—Repeated gales and snows have failed to dislodge it, there it stands, a dark sienna imp-like thing defying the elements to move it. It has become a symbol to me—a friendly little creature that tells me to likewise stand firm and hold on, through all the moments of despair and doubt—I think of it as a little friend—I look for it in the morning, and watch it from time to time during the day. During a gale it leans this way and that, but after it is all over, there it stands errct, immoveable, a symbol of hope and courage—On sunny days it is a light sienna, on gray days a dark sepia—

Charles E. Burchfield, December 22, 1957