The sight of Nut Meadow Brook in Brown’s land–reminds me that the attractiveness of a brook depends much on the character of its bottom…I stop to look at the circular shadows of the dimples over the yellow sand– & the dark brown clams on their edges in the sand at the bottom.
I hear the sound of the piano below as I write this an…d feel as if the winter in me were at length beginning to thaw–for my spring has been even more backward than nature’s.
For a month past life has been a thing incredible to me. None but the kind gods can make me sane– If only they will let their south winds blow on me. I ask to be melted. You can only ask of the metals that they be tender to the fire that melts them. To naught else can they be tender.
The sweet flags are now starting up under water two inches high– & minnows dart.
A pure brook is a very beautiful object to study minutely–it will bear the closest inspection–even to the fine air bubbles like minute globules of quicksilver that lie on its bottom.