I noticed as I sat in my boat by the riverside last evening, half an hour after sunset, a very low and local, yet dense, fog close to the shore, under the edge of the sedge on one side, a foot high by three or four wide for several rods. It occupied such a space as a shadow does under a hedge.
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, June 13, 1860
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau"A book, each page written in its own season,out-of-doors, in its own locality.”
~edited, assembled and rewritten by zphx © 2009-2021
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