To Second Division Brook.
The rain cleared away yesterday afternoon, and today the air is remarkably clear. I can see far into the pine woods to tree behind tree, and one tower behind another of silvery needles, stage above stage, relieved with shade.
The edge of the wood is not a plane surface, but has depth.
Hear and see what I call the pine warbler, -- vetter vetter vetter vetter vet, -- the cool woodland sound. The first this year of the higher-colored birds, after the bluebird and the blackbird's wing. It so affects me as something more tender.
Together with the driftwood on the shore of the Assabet and the sawdust from Heywood's mill, I pick up teasel-heads from the factory with the wool still in them. How many tales the stream tells!
See the fine moss in the pastures with beautiful red stems even crimsoning the ground. This is its season.
The amelanchier buds look more forward than those of any shrub I notice.
Observed some plowing yesterday.
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, April 2, 1853
Tree behind tree, and one tower behind another of silvery needles, stage above stage, relieved with shade. See February, 5, 1852 ("The boughs, feathery boughs, of the white pines, tier above tier, reflect a silvery light against the darkness of the grove, as if both the silvery-lighted and greenish bough and the shadowy intervals of the shade behind belong to one tree.”); March 21, 1859 (“that fine silvery light reflected from its needles (perhaps their undersides) incessantly in motion.”); April 29, 1852 ("The pines have an appearance they have not worn before, yet not easy to describe. The mottled sunlight and shade, seen looking into the woods, is more like summer."); May 1, 1855 ("Why have the white pines at a distance that silvery look around their edges or thin parts? Is it owing to the wind showing the under sides of the needles? Methinks you do not see it in the winter.”); May 3, 1852 ("The white pine is beautiful in the morning light--the early sunlight and the dew on it -- before the water is rippled and the morning song of the birds is quenched.”) May 17, 1852 ("I see dark pines in the distance in the sunshine, contrasting with the light fresh green of the deciduous trees.”); May 18, 1852 ("The forest, the dark-green pines, wonderfully distinct, near and erect, with their distinct dark stems, spiring tops, regularly disposed branches, and silvery light on their needles.”)
How many tales the stream tells! See note to September 16, 1856 (“William Monroe is said to have been the first who raised teasels about here.”) Also April 1, 1859 ("The river being so low, we see lines of sawdust perfectly level and parallel to one another on the side of the steep dark bank at the Hemlocks. . .”); April 1, 1858 ("It is remarkable that the river seems rarely to rise or fall gradually, but rather by fits and starts, and hence the water-lines, as indicated now by the sawdust, are very distinct parallel lines four or five or more inches apart.”); July 9, 1857 (“Am surprised to find how much carburetted hydrogen gas there is in the beds of sawdust by the side of this stream, as at the "Narrows."”): April 19, 1854 ("Yesterday, as I was returning down the Assabet, . . . I was surprised to find the river so full of sawdust from the pail-factory and Barrett's mill that I could not easily distinguish if the stone-heaps had been repaired. There was not a square three inches clear. And I saw the sawdust deposited by an eddy in one place on the bottom like a sand-bank a foot or more deep half a mile below the mill.”) April 1, 1854 ("The lines of sawdust from Barrett's mill at different heights on the steep, wet bank under the hemlocks rather enhance the impression of freshness and wild-ness, as if it were a new country.”); April 12, 1852 ("The lines of sawdust left at different levels on the shore is just hint enough of a sawmill on the stream above. “)
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