

LEAVES FROM A JANUARY NOTE BOOK 21 



even the birds seem discouraged and the chickadees fhili up their 

 feathers and do not sing a note. 



Jan. 25. — Such a thick frost curtain on my double 



window that I can not , «* 'ft through it ! When I clean 



off a space it is soon ?>$^ V covered again with a frost 

 layer which forms a spec- ^.^V ' trum and I see the world 

 outside through exquisite rainbow colors. 



Afternoon. — The sunshine is warmer and brighter and the nut- 

 hatches call in polysyllables instead of monosyllables. 



Jan. 26 — A cold day full of snow flurries and rather dreary. 

 I think the blue jays have estranged me more or less from the other 

 birds. They are like some people I have met — the more they are 

 with you, the more other folks aren't. 



Jan. 30. — It has been warmer today though still wintry, but the 

 nuthatches think spring has come. They repeat their notes over 

 and over, and one, probably the male, struts on the tree trunk, 

 his tail spread like a little turkey cock, showing his white feathers. 

 The chickadees sing"phcebe" too, and give their singing yodle. 



Jan. 31. — Another cold wave has been billowing toward us all 

 day, yet I heard the chickadees sing "phcebe" and yodle too, and 

 we heard a Hairy drum and saw him at it. He is surely crowding 

 the season. 



THE FEBRUARY HUSH 



Snow o'er the darkening moorlands; 



Flakes fill the quiet air; 

 Drifts in the forest hollows 



And a soft mask everywhere. 



The nearest twig on the pine tree 



Looks blue through the whitening sky, 



And the clinging beech-leaves rustle 

 Though never a wind goes by 



But there's red on the wild rose berries 



And red in the lovely glow 

 On the cheeks of the child beside me 



That once were pale as snow. 



— Thomas Wentworth Htgginson. 



