The robins sing at the very earliest dawn. I wake with their note ringing in my ear.
To Lincoln, surveying for Mr. Austin.
The catkins of the hazel are now trembling in the wind and much lengthened, showing yellowish and beginning to shed pollen.
When the air is a little hazy, the mountains are particularly dark blue. It is affecting to see a distant mountain-top, like the summits of Uncanoonuc, well seen from this hill, whereon you camped for a night in your youth, which you have never revisited, still as blue and ethereal to your eyes as is your memory of it.
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, March 31, 1853
The robins sing at the very earliest dawn . . . See May 4, 1855 ("A robin sings when I, in the house, cannot distinguish the earliest dawning from the full moon light.”) See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Robins in Spring
The catkins of the hazel are now trembling in the wind. . . See March 27, 1853 ("The hazel is fully out. The 23d was perhaps full early to date them. It is in some respects the most interesting flower yet, so minute that only an observer of nature, or one who looked for them, would notice it."); April 13, 1855 (“Half a dozen catkins, one and three quarters inches long, trembling in the wind, shedding golden pollen . . .They know when to trust themselves to the weather.”) See also A Book of the Seasons: the Hazel.
It is affecting to see a distant mountain-top, like the summits of Uncanoonuc, well seen from this hill, whereon you camped for a night in your youth, which you have never revisited, still as blue and ethereal to your eyes as is your memory of it. Compare November 11, 1851 (“That blue mountain in the horizon is certainly the most heavenly, the most elysian, which we have not climbed, on which we have not camped for a night.”); July 9, 1851 ("What can be more impressive than to look up a noble river just at evening, – one, perchance, which you have never explored, — and behold its placid waters, reflecting the woods and sky, lapsing inaudibly toward the ocean; to behold as a lake, but know it as a river, tempting the beholder to explore it and his own destiny at once?") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Mountains in the Horizon
The robins sing at the very earliest dawn . . . See May 4, 1855 ("A robin sings when I, in the house, cannot distinguish the earliest dawning from the full moon light.”) See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Robins in Spring
The catkins of the hazel are now trembling in the wind. . . See March 27, 1853 ("The hazel is fully out. The 23d was perhaps full early to date them. It is in some respects the most interesting flower yet, so minute that only an observer of nature, or one who looked for them, would notice it."); April 13, 1855 (“Half a dozen catkins, one and three quarters inches long, trembling in the wind, shedding golden pollen . . .They know when to trust themselves to the weather.”) See also A Book of the Seasons: the Hazel.
It is affecting to see a distant mountain-top, like the summits of Uncanoonuc, well seen from this hill, whereon you camped for a night in your youth, which you have never revisited, still as blue and ethereal to your eyes as is your memory of it. Compare November 11, 1851 (“That blue mountain in the horizon is certainly the most heavenly, the most elysian, which we have not climbed, on which we have not camped for a night.”); July 9, 1851 ("What can be more impressive than to look up a noble river just at evening, – one, perchance, which you have never explored, — and behold its placid waters, reflecting the woods and sky, lapsing inaudibly toward the ocean; to behold as a lake, but know it as a river, tempting the beholder to explore it and his own destiny at once?") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Mountains in the Horizon
Easter Sunday 2013 I walk to the newspaper box with the dogs there is some excitement when the neighbors drive in with four cars family or friends I guess Buda particularly barks and chases the cars they both bark at the people who get out but eventually follow me up the road I feel quite refreshed it's cool but springlike the streams are rushing I find that orange stick and place it by the culvert where I can the ground still being frozen in places there's only a few snow piles remaining the dogs climb on top of them and eat the snow
cool rushing spring streams –
climbing on the last snow piles
the dogs eat the snow
March 31, 2013
No comments:
Post a Comment