Charles E. Burchfield (1893-1967)

desolation in the woods, with its remnants of the recent snow storm, seemed exciting to me. The plaintive cries of a small flock of gold finches which I had startled. The deep gloom under hemlock groups.; The East woods. A large woods extending inland for several miles—A great open woods of much dignity. The whole sky now was covered with an unbroken expanse of luminous gray, and the snow increased. The fine rattle of the snow-pellets on the crisp leaves mingled with the soft roar of wind on the tree-tops. On all sides my mysterious gloom and dark shadows, augmented by the wet tree trunks. It was bitterly cold (colder at 32˚ than it ever is at 20 or less.); Painting clearly was out of the question. Started northwards with the intention of finding a place on the Darien Rd. (which had seemed interesting on the drive down) to eat my lunch. A brief trip westward, on the return a little farm-house with a double row of maples on front attracted me, and I decided to make a pencil sketch of it then work it up in the studio. I made several sketches (by now it was snowing hard.) and then ate my lunch.; Coming home, I set to work at once in the studio & worked all afternoon—A fine day all in all.; Evening M & H down—first take us to Leftins for sundaes, and then back home & played a game of rummy which Mart won.; ; ; ; ; Nov. 16—(Sun.); Milder—rain—dark and chilly—; All of us to church—dedication of new organ & altar things—The organ very satisfactory.; An afternoon at home—Philharmonic concert & letters to the girls.; Evening—B & I to church to concert in celebration of new organ—