Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

appeared suddenly and magicly almost it seemed, obscuring the sun and sky. Pay the price, did I say? It would not be a hard one to pay, either. A rainy day has a charm of its own.

Thursday, February 29, 1912.

As I will not have a chance to write that date in my diary for four year,I thought best to write on this day. The last two days have been fresh wintry days. Monday morning was a damp murky one, with a soft rain falling and grey misty sky. Down at the office I watched the weather as much as possible, for there was not much work to do. Across the street is the opening of a suerthru which, foul gas came,white like steam. Down from the shops, came the smoke which always hovers around the ground on rainy days, which the wind caught,and whirled up fantastically, mingling it with the suer gas. Later on the wind swerved around to the southwest; the clouds began to break up; and the warm sun­shine came forth. When I came out at noon I was delighted at how fresh the breeze was tho it was not yet any colder. In the after­noon, the