The river is one
level white blanket of snow
quite to each shore now.
I see a pitch pine
seed blown thirty rods from J.
Hosmer’s little grove.
Old-fashioned winter
memorable snow and cold
summer forgotten
February 1, 1856
Blue jays chickadees
common in the village –
more than usual.
February 1, 1856
A snow bunting flock
and that black and white effect
when they fly past you
February 1, 1857
The shaking surface
composed in part of sphagnum
is really floating.
February 1, 1858
An ice-belt adheres
to the steep shores – thick ice bent
under its own weight.
February 1. 1859
Only five degrees.
A cold day. Colder toward night.
Frost forms on windows.
February 1, 1860
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 © 2009-2025
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