After the Storm

January 19

The snow, which has drifted badly, ceases about 2 o'clock,  and I go forth by way of Walden road, wither no sleigh or sled had passed this day.  

It is pleasant to make the first tracks in this road through the woods, where all the road was obliterated, except  two long slight valleys marking the ruts,  – a smooth, white plain between the bordering woods, the fine, dry snow blowing and drifting still.  For long distances  I sink into the snow more than three feet at each step. 

From Bare Hill I look into the west, the sun still fifteen minutes high. The snow blowing far off in the sun, high as a house, looks like the mist that rises from rivers in the morning.  

The low western sky an Indian red, after the sun is gone.


H. D. Thoreau, Journal, January 19, 1852

The snow blowing far off in the sun . . . looks like the mist that rises from rivers in the morning. See February 3, 1855 ("flowing streams of snow, in form like the steam which curls along a river’s surface at sunrise"); January 19, 1860 ("This snow looks just like vapor curling along over the surface, long waving lines producing the effect of a watered surface in motion .");See also December 24, 1850 ("like steam curling up, as from a wet roof when the sun comes out after a rain.");  February 16, 1852 ("I see the steam-like snow-dust curling up and careering along over the fields. . . .like the spray on a beach before the northwest wind.")

January 19. See A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau,  January 19

I sink into snow

more than three feet at each step –

first tracks through the woods

To make the first tracks

in this road through the woods as

snow blows and drifts still.

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, After the Storm

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 © 2009-2025

The snow, which has drifted badly, ceasing about 2 o'clock, I went forth by way of Walden road, whither no sleigh or sled had passed this day, the fine, dry snow blowing and drifting still. 

It was pleasant to make the first tracks in this road through the woods, where all the road, except a faint depression, two long slight valleys, marking the ruts, was obliterated, — a smooth, white plain between the bordering woods, which only a few dry oak leaves coursed over. I sank into the snow for long distances more than three feet at each step.

From Bare Hill I looked into the west, the sun still fifteen minutes high. The snow blowing far off in the sun, high as a house, looked like the mist that rises from rivers in the morning.

I came across lots through the dry white powder from Britton's camp. Very cold on the causeway and on the hilltops. The low western sky an Indian red, after the sun was gone.