SPUING JOTTINGS 1G3 



Two lines of ducks go up tlie river, one a few 

 feet beneath the other. On second ghince tlie 

 under line proves to be the reflection of the 

 other in the still water. As the ducks cross a 

 large field of ice, the lower line is suddenly 

 blotted out, as if the birds had dived beneath 

 the ice. A train of cars across the river, — the 

 train sunk beneath a solid stratum of fog, its 

 plume of smoke and vapor unrolling alx)ve it 

 and slanting away in the distance; a liquid 

 morning; the turf buzzes as you walk over it. 



Skunk cabbage on Saturday the 22d, proba- 

 bly in bloom several days. This plant always 

 gets ahead of me. It seems to come up like a 

 mushroom in a single night. Water newts just 

 out, and probably piping before the frogs, 

 though not certain about this. 



March 25. One of the rare days that go be- 

 fore a storm; the flower of a series of days in- 

 creasingly fair. To-morrow, probably, the flower 

 falls, and days of rain and cold prepare the way 

 for another fair day or days. The barometer 

 must be high to-day ; the birds fly high. I feed 

 my bees on a rock and sit long and watch them 

 covering the combs, and rejoice in the multitu- 

 dinous humming. The river is a great mirror 

 dotted here and there by small cakes of ice. 

 The first sloop comes lazily up on the flood tiile, 

 like the first butterfly of spring; the little 

 steamer, our river omnibus, makes her flrst trip, 

 and wakes the echoes with her salutatory whis- 

 tle, her flags dancing in the sun. 



April 1. Welcome to April, my natal 



