Jan. 6, 1855. P. M. To Great Meadows.
What is that small insect with large, slender wings, which I see on the snow or fluttering in the air these days? Also some little black beetles on the ice of the meadow, ten rods from shore.
In many places near the shore the water has over flowed the ice to a great extent and frozen again with water between of a yellowish tinge, in which you see motes moving about as you walk. The skating is for the most part spoiled by a thin, crispy ice on top of the old ice, which is frozen in great crystals and crackles under your feet. This is apparently the puddles produced by the late thaw and rain, which froze thinly while the rest of the water was soaked up. A fine snow is falling and drifting before the wind over the ice and lodging in shallow drifts at regular intervals.
I see where a woodpecker has drilled a hole about two inches over in a decayed white maple; quite recently, for the chippings are strewn over the ice beneath and were the first sign that betrayed it. The tree was hollow. Is it for a nest next season? There was an old hole higher up.
I see that the locust pods are still closed, or but partially open, but they open wider after lying in my chamber.
H.D.T.
Jan. 6. 2021.
Just before noon, under partly cloudy skies, I start across the causeway at Great Meadows feeling very cold (even though it is 37 degrees) due to a swift wind. The impoundments are partially frozen, with some scattered snow. I search and find yellow colored ice with a rough, thin and brittle exterior, seemingly from a thaw and re-freeze. Any signs of insects evade me, but I do find exquisite footprints in the dusting of last night’s snow by sparrows exploring the ice’s edge among the cattails and reeds. Two robust trees along the Concord River boast thick and high root masses to withstand the ever changing river height. Other trees, including one dead with decay, show holes that could serve for next season’s bird nests. A impressive sea of cattails in the western portion of the upper impoundment seems endless. Nearby, a beaver crossing intersects the Dike Trail from river to impoundment. No locust pods are to be found, although I do find some open milk weed pods.
My meditative meanderings come to an abrupt end, when I am brought back to the reality of my comitments for the day, realizing that I am late and have to literally run back in a great rush ti my car to make it to my kids' school in time for dismissal.
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