Log Search Results

  It is refreshing to stand on the face of the Cliff and see the water gliding over the surface of the almost perpendicular rock in a broad thin sheet, pulsing over it . . .

  I see the snow lying thick on the south side of the Peterboro Hills . . .

  I see the old circular shore of Fair Haven, where the tops of the button-bushes, willows, etc., rise above the water. This pond is now open; only a little ice against the Pleasant Meadow . . .

  To Clematis Brook via Lee’s Bridge . . . I hear the hollow sound of drops falling into the water under Hubbard’s Bridge, and each one makes a conspicuous bubble which is floated down-stream . . . At Conantum End I saw a red-tailed hawk launch himself away from an oak by the pond at my approach, – a heavy flier, flapping even like the great bittern at first,—heavy forward. After turning Lee’s Cliff I heard, methinks, more birds singing even than in fair weather.

  P. M.—To Clematis Brook via Lee’s.

  A pleasant day, growing warmer; a slight haze. Now the hedges and apple trees are alive with fox-colored sparrows, all over the town, and their imperfect strains are occasionally heard. Their clear, fox-colored backs are very handsome. I get quite near to them. Stood quite near to what I called a hairy woodpecker—but, seeing the downy afterward, I am in doubt about it . . .

  The alder scales south of the railroad, beyond the bridge, are loosened . This corresponds to the opening (not merely expansion showing the fuzziness) of the white maple buds.

  There is still but little rain, but the fog of yesterday still rests on the earth. My neighbor says it is the frost coming out of the ground. This, perhaps, is not the best description . . .

  For a fortnight past, or since the frost began to come out, I have noticed the funnel-shaped holes of the skunk in a great many places and their little mincing tracks in the sand. Many a grub and beetle meets its fate in their stomachs . . .

  Such an appetite have we for new life that we begin by nibbling the very crust of the earth. We betray our vegetable and animal nature and sympathies by our delight in water . . .

  P.M.—To Cliffs . . .

  I see several earthworms to-day under the shoe of the pump, on the platform. They may have come through the cracks from the well where the warm has kept them stirring . . .