Looking to the sun,
the blowing snow looks like steam
over a wet roof.
It always melts
and freezes at the same time
when icicles form.
My spruce tree
one of the small ones in the swamp
hardly a quarter the size of the largest
looked double its size
in the town hall this evening
and its top had been cut off.
It was lit with candles --
But the starlit sky
is far more splendid to-night
than any saloon.
December 24, 1853
Snow collects like down
in little columns about
every twig and stem.
Seen in perfection,
complete to the last flake, now
while it is snowing.
 |
| December 24, 2015 |
It is never so cold but it melts somewhere . . . It is always melting and freezing at the same time when icicles form. December 24, 1850
Walking to-day across the Great Meadows on the snow-crust looking toward the sun, I notice that the fine, dry snow blown over the surface of the frozen fields looks like steam curling up, as from a wet roof when the sun comes out after a rain. December 24, 1850
like steam when seen in the sun December 24, 1851
Now and long since the birds' nests have been full of snow. December 24, 1851
In the town hall this evening, my spruce tree, one of the small ones in the swamp, hardly a quarter the size of the largest, looked double its size, and its top had been cut off for want of room. It was lit with candles, but the starlit sky is far more splendid to-night than any saloon. December 24, 1853
The snow collects and is piled up in little columns like down about every twig and stem, and this is only seen in perfection, complete to the last flake, while it is snowing, as now. December 24, 1856
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau~edited, assembled and rewritten by zphx © 2009-2020
"A book, each page written in its own season,
out-of-doors, in its own locality.”
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