24 March 1851 – 30 March 1851

Walden is two-thirds broken up. It will probably be quite open by to-morrow night.

Spring is already upon us. I see the tortoises, or rather I hear them drop from the bank into the brooks at my approach. The catkins of the alders have blossomed. The pads are springing at the bottom of the water. The pewee is heard, and the lark.