Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, December 14, 1930

A.M. to French Rd. bridge for walk – the Year has taken a sudden leap forward into winter overnight – The sun shines remote and coldly silver in the far southeast, while out of the misty north comes a fine diamond dust snow driven by a raw wind – there is a vast midwinter remoteness in the aspect of all things – houses seem smaller and set further apart – 

I pause in the swamps by a willow shrub – something in the appearance of its brown painted twigs glistening in the sun, the sparkling snow dust falling aslant it, caused me to realize with a sudden rush of feeling how far away from the deep subtle moods of nature I have withdrawn during the last ten years – my struggle will be to regain the old intimacy.

Instead of as usual walking down the extreme east track, I crossed several tracks and went down the middle or main road – the ground was lower here, and it seemed I was in a new country – the brisk walk down to the Clinton Rd. was a physical pleasure. Down here to get home  I had to crawl under innumerable strings of freight cars – a proceeding which in spite of their quietness and the remote probability of their moving, filled me with a vague apprehension – 

Charles E. Burchfield, December 14, 1930