Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, January 1, 1916

A January Thaw! The snow melting on the trees drips stickily into the soggy snow – now & then the crash of a larger piece of snow.

Behind the black silhouette of the cyclamen on the dining room table, the blue misty outdoors blurred slanting streaks are sparrows dropping from the apple tree in search of crumbs –

Night comes early, and with it I read Hugos “Toilers of the Sea” at the very part where the fog is settling on the Durande.

The wind is rising – it tugs at my very soul, – for a windstorm coming on the heels of a thaw is full of poetry to me – my place is outdoors –