7 A. M. - To Hubbard Bathing-Place.
A fine, calm, frosty morning, a resonant and clear air except a slight white vapor which escaped being frozen or perchance is the steam of the melting frost. Bracing cold, and exhilarating sunlight on russet and frosty fields. I wear mittens now. Apples are frozen on the trees and rattle like stones in my pocket. Aster puniceus left. A little feathery frost on the dead weeds and grasses, especially about water, - spring and brooks (though now slightly frozen), - where was some vapor in the night. I notice also this little frostwork about the mouth of a woodchuck’s hole, where, perhaps, was a warm, moist breath from the interior, perchance from the chuck!
