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  10 A.M.—To Cliffs.

  A clear, cold, windy day. The water on the meadows, which are rapidly becoming bare, is skimmed over and reflects a whitish light, like silver plating, while the unfrozen river is a dark blue. In plowed fields I see the asbestos-like ice-crystals, more or less mixed with earth, frequently curled and curved like crisped locks . . .

  A clear, cold, windy afternoon. The cat crackles with electricity when you stroke her, and the fur rises up to your touch.

  This is November of the hardest kind,—bare frozen ground covered with pale-brown or straw-colored herbage, a strong, cold, cutting northwest wind which makes inc seek to cover my ears, a perfectly clear and cloudless sky . . .

  I go through the Dennis Swamp by railroad . . .

  While most keep close to their parlor fires this cold and blustering Thanksgiving afternoon, and think with compassion of those who are abroad, I find the sunny south side of this swamp as warm as their parlors, and warmer to my spirit . . .

  Landing at the ash tree above the railroad, I thought I heard the peculiar not of grackles toward the willow-row across the field, and made a memorandum of it, never doubting; but soon after I saw some farmers at work there, and found that it was the squeaking of the wheel that rolled before their plow… We hear the clattering sound of two ducks – which rise and fly low at first – before we can see them though quite far off by the side of the pond . . .

  Ministerial Swamp, P. M. It is 10 1/2 feet high, 2 1/2 inches [in] diameter just above ground, and has 21 rings, 1/17 inch to a ring. . . .

  Last night and to-day are very cold and blustering. Winter weather has come suddenly this year. The house was shaken by wind last night, and there was a general deficiency of bedclothes. This morning some windows were as handsomely covered with frost as ever in winter . . .