Grew cold again last night, with high wind. The wind began about midday. I think a high wind commonly follows rain or a thaw in winter. The thermometer at 8.30 A. M. is at zero. (At 1 P. M., 8°+.)
February 13, 2022
Now, no doubt, many sportsmen are out with their dogs, who have been imprisoned by the depth of the snow. In the woods where there are bushes beneath, you still slump more or less.
The crust is quite green with the needles of pitch pines, sometimes whole plumes which have recently fallen. Are these chiefly last year’s needles brought down by the glaze, or those of the previous year which had not fallen before? I suspect they are chiefly the former, but maybe some of the latter.
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, February 13, 1856
I think a high wind commonly follows rain or a thaw in winter. See January 22, 1855 (“Heavy rain in the night and half of today, with very high wind from the southward, washing off the snow and filling the road with water. The roads are well-nigh impassable to foot-travellers.”)
This fall of 42° from 8.30 A. M. yesterday. See February 12, 1856 ("Thawed all day yesterday and rained some what last night; clearing off this morning. Heard the eaves drop all night. The thermometer at 8.30 A. M., 42°")
A very firm and thick, uneven crust, on which I go in any direction across the fields, stepping over the fences. See January 16, 1856 ("With this snow the fences are scarcely an obstruction to the traveller; he easily steps over them. Often they are buried.”); February 28, 1856 ("I go on the crust which we have had since the 13th, i. e. on the solid frozen snow, which settles very gradually in the sun, across the fields and brooks."); March 10, 1856 ("I may say that I have not had to climb a fence this winter, but have stepped over them on the snow.“); See also February 13, 1859 ("Winter comes to make walking possible where there was no walking in summer."); December 29, 1855 ("Jonas Potter tells me that he has known the crust on snow two feet deep to be as strong as this, so that he could drive his sled anywhere over the walls."); January 27, 1860 ("After the January thaw we have more or less of crusted snow, i. e. more consolidated and crispy. When the thermometer is not above 32 this snow for the most part bears, — if not too deep."); February 8, 1852 ("Night before last, our first rain for a long time; this afternoon, the first crust to walk on. It is pleasant to walk over the fields raised a foot or more above their summer level, and the prospect is altogether new."); February 17, 1854 ("In the early part of winter there was no walking on the snow, but after January. . . you could walk on the snow-crust pretty well."); February 19, 1855 ("Rufus Hosmer says that in the year 1820 there was so smooth and strong an icy crust on a very deep snow that you could skate everywhere over the fields and for the most part over the fences.")
A very firm and thick, uneven crust, on which I go in any direction across the fields, stepping over the fences. See January 16, 1856 ("With this snow the fences are scarcely an obstruction to the traveller; he easily steps over them. Often they are buried.”); February 28, 1856 ("I go on the crust which we have had since the 13th, i. e. on the solid frozen snow, which settles very gradually in the sun, across the fields and brooks."); March 10, 1856 ("I may say that I have not had to climb a fence this winter, but have stepped over them on the snow.“); See also February 13, 1859 ("Winter comes to make walking possible where there was no walking in summer."); December 29, 1855 ("Jonas Potter tells me that he has known the crust on snow two feet deep to be as strong as this, so that he could drive his sled anywhere over the walls."); January 27, 1860 ("After the January thaw we have more or less of crusted snow, i. e. more consolidated and crispy. When the thermometer is not above 32 this snow for the most part bears, — if not too deep."); February 8, 1852 ("Night before last, our first rain for a long time; this afternoon, the first crust to walk on. It is pleasant to walk over the fields raised a foot or more above their summer level, and the prospect is altogether new."); February 17, 1854 ("In the early part of winter there was no walking on the snow, but after January. . . you could walk on the snow-crust pretty well."); February 19, 1855 ("Rufus Hosmer says that in the year 1820 there was so smooth and strong an icy crust on a very deep snow that you could skate everywhere over the fields and for the most part over the fences.")
The crust is quite green with the needles of pitch pines . . . Are these chiefly last year’s needles . . . or those of the previous year? See February 14, 1856 (" I find that a great many pine-needles, both white and pitch, of ’54 still hold on . . .Those that strew the snow now are of both kinds .") See also December 26, 1855 ("After snow, rain, and hail yesterday and last night, we have this morning quite a glaze . . .The crust is already strewn with bits of the green needles which have been broken ofl.")
Step over fences,
go in any direction –
this firm and thick crust.
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, A crust on which I go in any direction
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 © 2009-2026
https://tinyurl.com/hdt-560213
No comments:
Post a Comment