I look in wonder –
are there any finer days
in the year than these?
It is a
beautifully
clear
and bracing air
with
just enough coolness
full of
the memory
of
frosty mornings
This clear and bracing
air full of the memory
of frosty mornings.
Large woolly aphides
now clustered close together
on the alder stems.
Seen from the stone bridge
the water clear and sunny
and the river smooth.
September 22, 1854These bracing fine days
when frosts come to ripen the
year, the days, like fruit.
September 22, 1854
I collect these herbs
biding the time when their use
shall be discovered.
September 22, 1856
The fragrance of grapes
is on the breeze and the red
drooping barberries
sparkle amid the leaves.
September 22, 2017
In love we impart, each to each, in subtlest immaterial form of thought or atmosphere, the best of ourselves, such as commonly vanishes or evaporates in aspirations, and mutually enrich each other. September 22, 1852
Yesterday and to-day the stronger winds of autumn have begun to blow, and the telegraph harp has sounded loudly. September 22, 1851
To the Three Friends' Hill over Bear Hill. September 22, 1851
Standing on Bear Hill in Lincoln.September 22, 1851
As I look off from the hilltop, wonder if there are any finer days in the year than these. September 22, 1854
 |
| September 22, 2018 |
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 © 2009-2015
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