March 18, 2019
The season is so far advanced that the sun, every now and then promising to shine out through this rather warm rain, lighting up transiently with a whiter light the dark day and my dark chamber, affects me as I have not been affected for a long time. I must go forth.
How eagerly the birds of passage penetrate the northern ice, watching for a crack by which to enter! Forthwith the swift ducks will be seen winging their way along the rivers and up the coast. They watch the weather more sedulously than the teamster. All nature is thus forward to move with the revolution of the seasons.
It is decidedly clearing up. At Conantum Cliff the columbines have started and the saxifrage even, the former as conspicuously as any plant, particularly any on dry ground. Both these grow there in high and dry chinks in the face of tire cliff, where no soil appears, and the sunnier the exposure the more advanced. Even if a fallen fragment of the rock is so placed as to reflect the heat upon it, it has the start of its neighbors. These plants waste not a day, not a moment, suitable to their development.
The ice in Fair Haven is more than half melted, and now the woods beyond the pond, reflected in its serene water where there has been opaque ice so long, affect me as they perhaps will not again this year.
It is decidedly clearing up. At Conantum Cliff the columbines have started and the saxifrage even, the former as conspicuously as any plant, particularly any on dry ground. Both these grow there in high and dry chinks in the face of tire cliff, where no soil appears, and the sunnier the exposure the more advanced. Even if a fallen fragment of the rock is so placed as to reflect the heat upon it, it has the start of its neighbors. These plants waste not a day, not a moment, suitable to their development.
The ice in Fair Haven is more than half melted, and now the woods beyond the pond, reflected in its serene water where there has been opaque ice so long, affect me as they perhaps will not again this year.
The bluebird and song sparrow sing immediately on their arrival and hence deserve to enjoy some preeminence. They give expression to the joy which the season inspires. But the robin and blackbird only peep and chuck at first commonly, and the lark is silent and flitting.
The bluebird at once fills the air with his sweet warbling, and the song sparrow from the top of a rail pours forth his most joyous strain. Both express their delight at the weather which permits them to return to their favorite haunts. They are the more welcome to man for it.
The sun is now declining, with a warm and bright light on all things, a light which answers to the late afterglow of the year, when, in the fall, wrapping his cloak closer about him, the traveller goes home at night to prepare for winter. This the foreglow of the year, when the walker goes home at eve to dream of summer.
To-day first I smelled the earth.
This the foreglow of the year, . . .See August, 19, 1853 ("The day is an epitome of the year.”); August 24, 1852 ("The year is but a succession of days, and I see that I could assign some office to each day which, summed up, would be the history of the year."); July 26, 1853 (“This the afternoon of the year.”); August 31, 1852 ("The evening of the year is colored like the sunset.”)
To-day first I smelled the earth. See note to March 4, 1854 ("I begin to sniff the air and smell the ground.”)
The sun is now declining, with a warm and bright light on all things, a light which answers to the late afterglow of the year, when, in the fall, wrapping his cloak closer about him, the traveller goes home at night to prepare for winter. This the foreglow of the year, when the walker goes home at eve to dream of summer.
To-day first I smelled the earth.
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, March 18,1853
The ice in Fair Haven is more than half melted. See March 19, 1855 ("I am surprised to find that the river has not yet worn through Fair Haven Pond.”); March 22, 1855 ("I cross Fair Haven Pond, including the river, on the ice, and probably can for three or four days yet.”); March 26, 1857 ("Fair Haven .is open; may have been open several days; there is only a little ice on the southeast shore.”); March 26, 1860 ("Fair Haven Pond may be open by the 20th of March, as this year, or not till April 13 as in '56, or twenty-three days later.”); March 22, 1854 ("Fair Haven still covered and frozen anew in part.”) See also April 1, 1852 ("Each part of the river seen further north shines like silver in the sun, and the little pond in the woods west of this hill is half open water. Cheering , that water with its reflections, compared with this opaque dumb pond.")
The ice in Fair Haven is more than half melted. See March 19, 1855 ("I am surprised to find that the river has not yet worn through Fair Haven Pond.”); March 22, 1855 ("I cross Fair Haven Pond, including the river, on the ice, and probably can for three or four days yet.”); March 26, 1857 ("Fair Haven .is open; may have been open several days; there is only a little ice on the southeast shore.”); March 26, 1860 ("Fair Haven Pond may be open by the 20th of March, as this year, or not till April 13 as in '56, or twenty-three days later.”); March 22, 1854 ("Fair Haven still covered and frozen anew in part.”) See also April 1, 1852 ("Each part of the river seen further north shines like silver in the sun, and the little pond in the woods west of this hill is half open water. Cheering , that water with its reflections, compared with this opaque dumb pond.")
This the foreglow of the year, . . .See August, 19, 1853 ("The day is an epitome of the year.”); August 24, 1852 ("The year is but a succession of days, and I see that I could assign some office to each day which, summed up, would be the history of the year."); July 26, 1853 (“This the afternoon of the year.”); August 31, 1852 ("The evening of the year is colored like the sunset.”)
To-day first I smelled the earth. See note to March 4, 1854 ("I begin to sniff the air and smell the ground.”)
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