A Book of the Seasons: January 18.

January 18.

The pines, some of them,

seen through this fine driving snow,

have a bluish hue.

January 18, 1852

Today I see blue

in crevices of the snow

while it is snowing.

January 18, 1852

There is a season

when ice is covered with snow --

and when ice is bare.

January 18, 1860

Our very shadows
are no longer black, but a
celestial blue.
January 18, 1856

Pine woods seen a mile 

or more off through thin fog are

a distinct dark blue.

January 18, 1859

The sky darker blue
and clouds blacker more distinct
in the reflection.
January 18, 1860

In the reflection

clouds blacker and more distinct–

the sky darker blue.

January 18, 1860

January 18, 2012

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 © 2009-2020