166 SPRING JOTTINGS 



How conspicuous the crows in the brown 

 fields, or against the lingering snowbanks, or 

 in the clear sky. How still the air ! One could 

 carry a lighted candle over the hills. The 

 light is very strong, and the effect of the wall 

 of white mountains rising up all around from 

 the checkered landscape, and holding up the 

 blue dome of the sky, is strange indeed. 



April 14. A delicious day, warm as May. 

 This to me is the most bewitching part of 

 the whole year. One's relish is so keen, and 

 the morsels are so few, and so tender. How the 

 fields of winter rye stand out! They call up 

 visions of England. A perfect day in April far 

 excels a perfect day in June, because it pro- 

 vokes and stimulates while the latter sates and 

 cloys. Such days have all the peace and gen- 

 iality of summer without any of its satiety or 

 enervating heat. 



April 15. Not much cloud this morning, 

 but much vapor in the air. A cool south wind 

 with streaks of a pungent vegetable odor, prob- 

 ably from the -willows. When I make too 

 dead a set at it I miss it; but Avhen I let my 

 nose have its own way, and take in the air 

 slowly, I get it, an odor as of a myriad swell- 

 ing buds. The long-drawn call of the high- 

 hole comes up from the fields, then the tender 

 rapid trill of the bush or russet sparrow, then 

 the piercing note of the meadow-lark, a flying 

 shaft of sound. 



April 21. The enchanting days continue 

 without a break. One's senses are not large 



