What a cheerful thing is a fire in the woods: Even on a warm night [its] heat is a pleasure; the flames take on all shapes. The weeds around camp are no longer weeds but some beings advancing on us. Away from camp we still look back at [the] fire & feel cozy.
Beautiful colors in a fire. Rich blue & violet in glowing embers.
What is in those flames – trees history & history of its inhabitants. I idly poke a glowing hunk of log. A cloud of atomic sparks [comes] up, looking like thready brass wire. Wood is the poetic fuel.
Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, August 1, 1914