A Book of the Seasons: February 24.

February 24.

February 24, 2018

Observe the poplar's
swollen buds and the brightness
of the willow's bark.

Though snow covers ground
the quality of the air
reminds me of spring.

The sound of men's work
reminds, advertises, me of
the coming of spring.
February 24, 1852

A season of spring

the brightening osiers

all the landscape shines.

February 24, 1855

Surprised to hear
the strain of a song sparrow
from the riverside.
February 24, 1857

*****

A fine spring morning.  February 24, 1857

Get my boat out the cellar. February 24, 1857

A very spring-like day, so much sparkling light in the air.  February 24, 1860

It seems to be one of those early springs of which we have heard but have never experienced. Perhaps they are fabulous.  February 24, 1857

The brightening of the willows or of osiers, —that is a season in the spring, showing that the dormant sap is awakened. February 24, 1855

I now hear at a distance the sound of the laborer's sledge on the rails. February 24, 1852

The very sound of men's work reminds, advertises, me of the coming of spring.  February 24, 1852

I am reminded of spring by the quality of the air. February 24, 1852

Observe the poplar's swollen buds and the brightness of the willow's bark. It is a natural resurrection, an experience of immortality.  February 24, 1852

I am surprised to hear the strain of a song sparrow from the riverside, and as I cross from the causeway to the hill, thinking of the bluebird, I that instant hear one's note from deep in the softened air.  February 24, 1857

Their short, rich, crispy warble curls through the air. Its grain now lies parallel to the curve of the bluebird's warble, like boards of the same lot.  February 24, 1857

I have seen the probings of skunks for a week or more.  February 24, 1857

The other day I thought that I smelled a fox very strongly, and went a little further and found that it was a skunk. May not their odors differ in intensity chiefly? February 24, 1854

The willow-row does not begin to look bright yet. The top two or three feet are red as usual at a distance, the lower parts a rather dull green. February 24, 1855

Thermometer at 10° at 10 P. M. February 24, 1855

Dr. Jarvis tells me that he thinks there was as much snow as this in ’35, when he lived in the Parkman house and drove in his sleigh from November 23d to March 30th excepting one day.  February 24, 1856

"A book, each page written in its own season,
out-of-doors, in its own locality.”

~edited, assembled and rewritten by zphx © 2009-2016