Quite a fog risen up from the river. I cannot see over it from the hill a 6 A.M. The first I have seen. The grass is now high enough to be wet. I see many perfectly geometrical cobwebs on the trees . . .

  P.M.—To climbing fern.

  I have seen a little blue moth a long time. My thick sack is too much yesterday and to-day. The golden robin makes me think of a thinner coat. I sec that the great thrush,—brown thrasher,—from its markings, is still of the same family . . .