A Book of the Seasons: December 21

December 21


Dark evergreen woods,
untrodden snow pure and still --
these the finest days.
December 21, 1854

Last rays of the sun
falling on the Baker Farm
reflect a clear pink.
December 21, 1854


These the finest days
of the year a few simple
colors now prevail.
December 21, 1854/55


Long after the sun has set,
and downy clouds have turned dark,
and the shades of night
have taken possession of the east,
some rosy clouds will be seen
in the upper sky
over the portals of the darkening west.
December 21, 1851


Sunlight on pine-needles is the phenomenon of a winter day. December 21, 1851

The last rays of the sun falling on the Baker Farm reflect a clear pink color. December 21, 1854

Long after the sun has set, and downy clouds have turned dark, and the shades of night have taken possession of the east, some rosy clouds will be seen in the upper sky over the portals of the darkening west. December 21, 1851

How swiftly the earth appears to revolve at sunset, which at midday appears to rest on its axle! December 21, 1851

We are tempted to call these the finest days of the year. December 21, 1854

A few simple colors now prevail. December 21, 1855

Fair Haven Pond, for instance, a perfectly level plain of white snow, untrodden as yet by any fisherman, surrounded by snow-clad hills, dark evergreen woods, and reddish oak leaves, so pure and still.December 21, 1854

A few simple colors now prevail. December 21, 1855

*****

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 © 2009-2017