Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

dead branches One narrow place had been left open and around this the creek roared and dashed, like some wild animal, angry at the hindrance. At the turn in the path was a raw overhanging bank of yellow earth on the top of which old tree roots hung down, dripping with sparkling water. Where the two streams, the main one, and the one from south Forqhuar’s, united near the base of Blue “Mountain”, was a wild and beautiful scene. Leaping the stream, I went up around Blue Mountain by way of the Lane, and across Witchhazel hollow and up again. The hillside here was covered with pure untramped snow. In some places when one stepped, the thin crust of snow fell slightly for quite a space around,making an odd swishing sound. As I walked along, the roar of the stream below was constantly in my ears, and occasionally a Peterbird sang.  

     The ground along here was covered with a sort of ice and mud mixture,under which little streams could be heard, that sounded like low toned sleighbells. Willow Pond, in front of Farqhuar’s, was full of water. Thru Bentley’s I hurried,tho I did not wish to hurry. At the Twin Springs