A Book of the Seasons: February 7.

February 7.

The cold stops the clock.

Sheets freeze stiff about the face –

cold as Cold Friday.

February 7, 1855

Single trees on hill

so distinct and black under 

dull mist-covered sky.

February 7, 1856

Reflected trees in

water on ice appear as

if seen through a mist.

February 7, 1857

Little tufts or mounds

of yellowish golden moss --

sunlight on the ground.

February 7, 1858

The distant woods are

more bluish these warm and moist

misty winter days.

February 7, 1859

We stay in our track

Follow two ruts in the snow

now on our way home.

February 7, 2021

Birch trees along the

way – a sense of place in

these beautiful woods.

February 7, 2022

Single trees on hill

under dull mist-covered sky

so distinct and black.

February 7, 1856

Trees reflected in

water on ice appear as

when seen through a mist.

February 7, 1857

FEBRUARY 7,2016

 

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 © 2009-2018