9 A. M. —To Fair Haven Pond.
A clear and a pleasanter and warmer day than we have had for a long time.
For two or three weeks, successive light and dry snows have fallen on the old crust and been drifting about on it, leaving it at last three quarters bare and forming drifts against the fences, etc., or here and there low, slaty, fractured ones in mid-field, or pure white hard-packed ones. These drifts on the crust are commonly quite low and flat.
February 8, 2020
Perhaps the snow has settled considerably, for the track in the roads is the highest part. Some heard a loud cracking in the ground or ice last night.
I cut through, five or six rods from the east shore of Fair Haven, and find seven inches of snow, nine inches of snow ice and eight of water ice, — seventeen of both. The water rises to within half an inch of the top of the ice.
Isaac Garfield has cut a dozen holes on the west side. The ice there averages nineteen inches in thickness. Half the holes are five or six rods from the shore, and the rest nine or ten, the water from three to seven feet deep. In some places more than half the whole depth is ice. The thinnest ice is 17 inches; the thickest, 20+. The inner row invariably the thickest. The water rises above the ice in some cases.
The snow begins (at noon) to soften somewhat in the road. Coming home at twelve, the ice is fast melting on the trees, and I see in the drops the colors of all the gems.
The snow is soft, and the eaves begin to run as not for many weeks. Thermometer at 3.30 P. M., 31°.
H. D. Thoreau, Journal. February 8, 1856
Yesterday’s snow turning to rain, which froze as it fell, there is now a glaze on the trees. See February 7, 1856 ("Begins to snow at 8 A.M.; turns to rain at noon, and clears off, or rather ceased raining, at night, with some glaze on the trees."); See also February 6, 1857 ("Down railroad to see the glaze, the first we have had this year, but not a very good one."); February 8, 1852 ("Night before last, our first rain for a long time; this afternoon, the first crust to walk on."); February 26, 1854 ("This morning it began with snowing, turned to a fine freezing rain producing a glaze, but in the afternoon changes to pure rain.") and Yesterday's ice storm today.
At this hour the crust sparkles with a myriad brilliant points or mirrors. See February 3, 1852 (“This snow . . . is two feet deep, pure and powdery. From a myriad little crystal mirrors the moon is reflected, which is the untarnished sparkle of its surface.”); ; February 13, 1859 ("A dry, powdery snow about one inch deep, from which, as I walk toward the sun, this perfectly clear, bright afternoon, at 3.30 o’clock, the colors of the rainbow are reflected from a myriad fine facets.");.January 12, 1860 ("Going from the sun, I see a myriad sparkling points scattered over its surface, — little mirror-like facets, . . .which has fallen in the proper position, reflecting an intensely bright little sun. Such is the glitter or sparkle on the surface of a snow freshly fallen when the sun comes out and you walk from it, the points of light constantly changing."); January 29, 1860 ("A parabola of rainbow-colored reflections, from the myriad reflecting crystals of the snow as I walk toward the sun.")
The ice there [Fair Haven] averages nineteen inches in thickness. See February 6, 1856 ("Cut a cake of ice out of the middle of Walden . . . On the 18th of January the ice had been about seven inches thick here . . . It was now 19 inches thick.")
The ice is fast melting on the trees, and I see in the drops the colors of all the gems. See February 8, 1857 ("My diffuse and vaporous life becomes as the frost leaves and spiculae radiant as gems on the weeds and stubble in a winter morning.") See also December 6, 1858 ("Looking at a dripping tree between you and the sun, you may see here or there one or another rainbow color, a small brilliant point of light."); December 11, 1855 ("Great winter itself looked like a precious gem, reflecting rainbow colors from one angle.")
The eaves begin to run as not for many weeks. See February 1, 1856 ("The eaves have scarcely run at all. It has been what is called 'an old-fashioned winter.'"); February 11, 1856 ("It is now fairly thawing, the eaves running; and puddles stand in some places.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Signs of the Spring; The Eaves Begin to Run
February 8. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, February 8
Snow turning to rain
froze as it fell – there is now
a glaze on the trees.
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau,
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-560208
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