Sunrise and morning paddle.

June 16.

A low fog on the meadows.  

The clouds scattered wisps in the sky, like a squadron thrown into disorder at the approach of the sun.  The sun now gilds an eastern cloud a broad, bright, coppery-golden edge, fiery bright.  Protuberances of the cloud cast dark shadows ray-like up into the day.  

A new season. The earth looks like a  debauchee after the sultry night.

Paddle from the ash tree to the swimming-place. The river appears covered with an almost imperceptible blue film.  What wealth in a stagnant river! 

There is music in every sound in the morning atmosphere.  

As I look up over the bay,  I see the reflections of the meadow woods and the Hosmer hill at a distance, the tops of the trees cut off by a  slight ripple. Even the fine grasses on the near bank are distinctly reflected. Owing to the reflections of the distant woods and hills, you seem to be paddling into a vast hollow country, doubly novel and interesting. 

Thus the voyageur is lured onward to fresh pastures.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, June 16, 1852

The earth looks like a debauchee after the sultry night: See July 24, 1851 ("Nature is like a hen panting with open mouth, in the grass, as the morning after a debauch.”)


Owing to the reflections of the distant woods and hills, you seem to be paddling into a vast hollow country, doubly novel and interesting. See September 7, 1854 (“The beauty of the sunset is doubled by the reflection. . . . We seem withal to be floating directly into it. . .We paddle over the liquid and almost invisible surface, floating directly toward those clouds in the sunset sky. . . .The reflected shadow of the Hill is black as night, and we seem to be paddling directly into it a rod or two before us, but we never reach it at all.”)