When I think of the multitude of things there are to paint – the whole untouched field of nature moods and weather, and the whole gamut of human life and endeavor which can be expressed in houses and building – when I think of these, and how little I have actually accomplished, I am aghast at my inactivity – a cessation of painting that has lasted from October. There is so little time – human life is so brief, it seems “flying in the face of fate” to be idle.
I have, however been “filling my days” with activity – mounting paper of all sizes, doing all sorts of odd jobs around the house and studio, running to Buffalo etc.
Yesterday, I filled in the time going over my 1917 and 1918 water-colors, an occupation that always gives me pleasure, mingled with something of regret, or distain that the “fires of youth” have dwindled so with the years – The things that I attempted then!
We are having fine winter weather – the temperature ranging from zero to 20° above, some days sunny, and again with steel grey skies and snow flowers. It is a physical pleasure to be out in it.
The whole Christmas season passed without any record in my journal. I remember it as an unusually quiet happy period, with a feeling of contentment and good feeling in the family circle.
Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, January 14, 1943