Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, March 29, 1915

Zero weather is reported – I stay in all morning but my impression of the morning is whistling wind rushing over the black & white earth and a frothy sun sparkling in a blue and white sky – on my waking the icy wind blowing in my face brings the overflowing warble of a robin –

P.M. To Post’s. Swift cold wind - white rhythms in grass startle white sides of trees against dark sky – a stray streak of sunlight yellowing along a woods some distance from us – Homeward the icy wind riddles our clothes crusting our cheeks; a blizzard comes up and dims the howling woods; and is gone quickly; in the Fields we saw a sparrowhawk scudding lowly and swiftly over the earth; so wild was he, he seemed the spirit of the March snow-storm. When home a longer & denser blizzard whirls over the land; as I watch it I see a streak of yellow light ripple down an apple-tree; I run out, the sun is bursting thru the falling flakes; glows awhile then disappears in a new storm which soon whitens the air in a swirling Robins calling shriek

So it continues all evening; the air gets colder the wind wilder and whirls the powdery snow high until finally from the last final spray of the blizzard the blinding moon is flung upwards in the black sky.

Charles E. Burchfield, Journals, March 29, 1915