Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

A calm clear snowy morning after a heavy frost—song sparrows—Two mourning doves in the white pine. Somewhere a carpenters hammer— A walk to the end of the lot—crocuses in the upper bed in full bloom. I counted 24 yellow—a fine sight— P.M. B & I for drive southward in the country. It is fine to be going in a southerly direction in early spring—as if to meet the sunshine. The light from the sun fills the air, and is unpleasantly blinding. Below Hamburg the season is advanced—the truck gardens being plowed.  Stop at Taylor’s Maple grove. Mrs. Taylor reminded me that I had ordered 6 gallons of syrup last month, but she hoped we could do with less as they could not fill all their orders. When she said the price was $5, I told her I’m sure we could do with less. We decided to take only one gallon, and she was genuinely pleased. They had made 440 gallons.  We decided to go to the Hepatica hill south of Springville, and so we turned east on R. 39. An interesting road. It was more pleasant going with the sun at our backs.  As we went south from Springville, more and more snow appeared, and the season seemed backward. Some wooded hills were solid with snow. The Hepatica hill was fairly free of snow, but there were great patches of sooty black smoothly flattened leaves, where it was obvious that the snow had but recently melted. The hepaticas were just started, tiny downy buds about an inch high. Dug up several plants for forcing indoors. The air was chilly here. The roar of the swollen