Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

from the full moon in the west, revealed the choppy heaving ice-clothed creek, sweeping powerfully along, over-flowing the island. A beautiful memorable sight.
Monday – B & A & I to Wyoming Village by way of Route 20 – a the village we bought some honey, then parked and went to visit the cemetery up on the hill. A beautifully created funeral ground – high up overlooking the wide valley, with Norway pines as guardian – Some very fine old stones here, dating back to Revolutionary times, and the sun was just right – falling aslant from the southwest, revealing the low relief with sharply accented light.
A fine hour – as if we renewed our roots in the soil. The strong “March-like” wind rippling over the day bleached out grassy hillsides, bringing a chill air from the snow-clogged ravine adjoining, and stirring the pine needles in the thick gloom under the ancient pines.
I felt renewed in spirit –
Home by way of Warsaw – (The grim cliffs chutting in the road leading out of the town, with great masses of greenish ice)
Yesterday – warm and sunshiny – a soft wind from the south – too restless to do anything – I made little excursions to the creek to watch the water –
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Letter in the morning from Mr. Moe – asking me to serve on the jury again – the meeting set for March 2