Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

Yesterday Phil Eliot out. He wanted me to accept the part of “Artist in Residence” for the Albright school. I declined with thanks – I think he understood, and as a matter of fact, I think they really only felt they should ask me first before going out of town. He also brought up the subject of Maratha’s leaving the school and I told him why she quit. He suggested she come in the next half- year tuition free, and take a special course.

Now, tonight it is raining, and it almost feels normal, as this could be a January Thaw, The snow-less cold weather has made the creek excellent for skating, and Art has been out a lot. I envy him his youth, altho [sic] if I had kept in condition, I should be able to skate.
Feb. 10-
Spring in February: patches of melted snow on sidewalks reflecting the heavenly blue of the sky- cavern above, the snow on both sides of the walk honey-combed slantingly by the brilliant sun. The cawing of crows has taken on a new significance.
Past three weeks on paining the house. I have rearranged my bedroom, so that now the bed is by the case-ment window to the east. I love the poplar tree just outside, with its up-shooting branches. The other night, at 4:00 a.m. the cold moon high in the west, shed its ghostly light on poplar’s trunk, and eerie effect.