Wednesday, March 2, 2016

A Book of the Seasons: March 2.



Two hawks scream like wind through a crevice in the sky – that cracked blue saucer. March 2, 1855 tinyurl.com/hdt-550302

Unwearied Nature 
spreading her seeds far away
to distant shores.
March 2, 1856

Very gusty day. An inch or two of snow falls, — strangely blown away. March 2, 1857 tinyurl.com/hdt-570302

Flock of snow buntings
the white birds of the winter
 rejoicing in snow. 
March 2, 1858

Blackbird's sharp whistle
heard against the dark winter —
like sparks from the swamp.


The bluebird

The bluebird – which some woodchopper or inspired walker said to have seen in that sunny interval between the snow- storms like a speck of clear blue sky near the end of a storm reminding us of a heaven we had forgotten – bluebird comes with his warble and sets free the ponds.


It is more dashing rippling sparkling living this windy but clear day. March 2, 1860 tinyurl.com/hdt-600302



March 2, 2018

Notice the brightness of a row of osiers this morning. This phenomenon, whether referable to a change in the condition of the twig or to the spring air and light, or even to our imaginations, is not the less a real phenomenon, affecting us annually at this season. March 2, 1860

See a hen-hawk. March 2, 1860


Hear two hawks scream. March 2, 1855



We listen to the February cock-crowing and turkey-gobbling as to a first course, or prelude. March 2, 1859


See a large flock of snow buntings, the white birds of the winter, rejoicing in the snow. March 2, 1858

I can hardly believe that hen-hawks may be beginning to build their nests now, yet their young were a fortnight old the last of April last year. March 2, 1856


The bluebird comes and with his warble drills the ice and sets free the rivers and ponds and frozen ground. March 2, 1859


The sharp whistle of the blackbird, too, is heard like single sparks or a shower of them shot up from the swamps and seen against the dark winter in the rear. March 2, 1859

Looking up a narrow ditch in a meadow, I see a modest brown bird flit along it furtively, — the first song sparrow, -- and then alight far off on a rock. March 2, 1860

See thirty or more crows come flying in the usual irregular zigzag manner in the strong wind, from over M. Miles’s, going northeast, — the first migration of them, — without cawing. March 2, 1860





We . . . commonly antedate the spring more than any other season, for we look forward to it with more longing. March 2, 1859


We talk about spring as at hand before the end of February, and yet it will be two good months, one sixth part of the whole year, before we can go a-maying. March 2, 1859








What produces the peculiar softness of the air yesterday and to-day, as if it were the air of the south suddenly pillowed amid our wintry hills? March 2, 1854

We have suddenly a different sky, — a different atmosphere. March 2, 1854









The great phenomenon these days is the sparkling blue water, — a richer blue than the sky ever is. The flooded meadows are ripple lakes on a large scale. March 2, 1860



It is more dashing, rippling, sparkling, living, this windy but clear day; never smooth, but ever varying in its degree of motion and depth of blue as the wind is more or less strong, rising and falling. March 2, 1860


These are ripple days begun, — not yet in woodland pools, where is ice yet. March 2, 1860





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 © 2009-2019

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