November 29.
The trees and shrubs look larger than usual when seen through the mist, perhaps because, though near, yet being in the visible horizon and there being nothing beyond to compare them with, we naturally magnify them, supposing them further off.
The trees and shrubs look larger than usual when seen through the mist, perhaps because, though near, yet being in the visible horizon and there being nothing beyond to compare them with, we naturally magnify them, supposing them further off.
The pines standing in the ocean of mist, seen from the Cliffs, are trees in every stage of transition from the actual to the imaginary. The near are more distinct, the distant more faint, till at last they are a mere shadowy cone in the distance. As you advance, the trees gradually come out of the mist and take form before your eyes.
You are reminded of your dreams. Life looks like a dream. You are prepared to see visions.
And now, just before sundown, the night wind blows up more mist through the valley, thickening the veil which already hangs over the trees, and the gloom of night gathers early and rapidly around.
Birds lose their way.
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, November 29, 1850
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