Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, February 9, 1915

A beautiful day.  Winter’s own.

At morning, a heavy fog on the air.  Every bush and tree finely coated with frost, which at once added [weird] beauty to nature. The snow and sky were peculiarly yellow as if filled with smoke. Distant trees were a wonderful pale blue, almost dissolved into the sky. Near Grunplatz a crow shattered the air.

Early the fog condensed into a fluffy shower of sparkleflakes, which fell unheeded by a wind. They seemed so brilliant that they even appeared white against the sky. It was a sight that brought a smile, as if we realized nature was being whimsical.

Evening brings a clearing – the air is fresh. Looking out of my window I saw a rare sight. Just as the sun fell away from a cloud, and flooded the houses in the east with sudden yellow light, a light shower of flakes commenced. This evening sunshine reminds me oddly of Spring. From now on the weather has the character of Spring. The beauties of Spring are capricious -mere momentary whims, utterly elusive. Such were today’s beauties.

I have arrived at the point in my work, where I can look ahead and see what I must begin to learn; so far I have been deluding myself - now I must begin to study.

Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, February 9, 1915