Sunny, but cold, with a biting north wind. Pax and I had a good walk in spite of the unpleasant conditions. I'm glad my walking pal is back in good fettle.

Heading below zero again tonight, and tomorrow night, but after that perhaps no more. I can tell that the snow is itching to melt—showing little patches of dampness in sheltered, sunny spots.

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From Thoreau:

So many autumn, ay, and winter days, spent outside the town, trying to hear what was in the wind, to hear and carry it express! I well-nigh sunk all my capital in it, and lost my own breath into the bargain, running in the face of it. If it had concerned either of the political parties, depend upon it, it would have appeared in the Gazette with the earliest intelligence. At other times watching from the observatory of some cliff or tree, to telegraph any new arrival; or waiting at evening on the hill-tops for the sky to fall, that I might catch something, though I never caught much, and that, manna-wise, would dissolve again in the sun.