Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, December 26, 1926

Oh the agony of longing for what is irrevocably past – I unpacked some of the pictures that were sent down, this evening – before I went in the shop I had paused to look at the skies – to the east the December moon partially concealed by vague mists & wispy clouds that somehow expressed the torment of my mind; it had in it some of the exquisite pain of early spring – to the south west a star, glowed with what I can only call dim brilliance – the thrill of the unpacking was the discovery of “Burnt Forest” that I had given up for lost – Made in March 1918 – my mind flew back to that time with dizzy sudden-ness – the thoughts of brilliant march days in the waste lands of Ohio filled me with sadness—

Lying in bed the thousand and one unavoidable duties that I have surrounded myself with crowded down upon me like huge boxes or rocks – it seemed as if I would be suffocated – it was unbearable – Outside the moon was almost directly overhead –the thrill of winter moons that are high in the sky—

Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, December 26, 1926