P. M. - To Hill and round by J. Hosmer woodland and Lee house.
I see some of those great andromeda puffs still hanging on the twigs behind Assabet Spring, black and shrivelled bags. The river is generally open again. The snow is mostly gone. In many places it is washed away down to the channels made by the mice, branching galleries. I go through the lot where Wheeler’s Irishmen cut last winter. Though they changed hands, they did not cut twice in a place, and the stump, instead of having a smooth surface, is roughly hacked. There is a fine healthy and handsome scarlet oak between Muhlenbergii Brook and the Assabet River watering-place, in the open land. It is about thirty-five feet high and spreads twenty-five, perfectly regular. It is very full of leaves, excepting a crescent of bare twigs at the summit about three feet wide in the middle. The leaves have a little redness in them.
There is a dense growth of young birches from the seed in the sprout-land lot just beyond on the riverside, now apparently two or three years old, and they have a peculiar pink tint seen in the mass.
