A Book of the Seasons: March 11.

March 11.

Landscape nearly bare

distant mountains white with snow—

song sparrow’s first song.

March 11, 1854

I wish so to live ever as to derive my satisfactions and inspirations from the commonest events, every-day phenomena, so that what my senses hourly perceive, my daily walk, the conversation of my neighbors, may inspire me, and I may dream of no heaven but that which lies about me. March 11, 1856

Air full of birds, — bluebirds, song sparrows, chickadee (phoebe notes), and blackbirds. March 11, 1854

The birds anticipate the spring; they come to melt the ice with their songs. March 11, 1859

Song sparrows toward the water, with at least two kinds or variations of their strain hard to imitate. March 11, 1854

By riverside I hear the song of many song sparrows, the most of a song of any yet. March 11, 1859

Only that travelling is good which reveals to me the value of home and enables me to enjoy it better.  March 11, 1856

The distant mountains are all white with snow while our landscape is nearly bare. March 11, 1854

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, March 11

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 © 2009-2022