A Book of the Seasons: February 1.

February 1.

Now the river is

one level white blanket of 

snow quite to each shore.

February 1, 1855

The river is one

level white blanket of snow

quite to each shore now.

February 1, 1855

I see a pitch pine
seed blown thirty rods from J.
Hosmer’s little grove.
February 1, 1856

A memorable 

January-- old-fashioned

winter. Snow and cold.

February 1, 1856

Blue jays chickadees

common in the village -- 

more than usual.

February 1, 1856

Flock of snow buntings

and that black and white effect

when they fly past you.
February 1, 1857

Minus 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 © 2009-2020