Tuesday, March 22, 2016

A Book of the Seasons: March 22.

March 22.

It affects one's philosophy, after so long living in winter quarters, to see the day dawn from some hill. Our effete lowland town is fresh as New Hampshire. It is as if we had migrated and were ready to begin life again in a new country, with new hopes and resolutions. See your town with the dew on it, in as wild a morning mist (though thin) as ever draped it . . . such reviving spring days. 

To see the day dawn
from some hill after so long
in winter quarters . . .

To see your town with 
the dew on it in a wild 
thin morning mist . . .

begin again wih
new hopes and resolutions
 in a new country.

The now silvery willow catkins shine along the shore over the cold water, and C. thinks some willow osiers decidedly more yellow.

Over cold water.
silvery willow catkins 
shine along the shore

Overcast and cold. Yet there is quite a concert of birds along the river; the song sparrows are very lively and musical, and the blackbirds already sing o-gurgle ee-e-e from time to time on the top of a willow or elm or maple, but oftener a sharp, shrill whistle or a tchuck also hear a short, regular robin song, though many are flitting about with hurried note. The bluebird faintly warbles, with such ventriloquism that I thought him further off. He requires a warmer air.

Overcast and cold –
yet quite a concert of birds
along the river.

Hear rapid tapping --
the downy woodpecker, and
chickadee's spring note. 
March 22, 1855 

I have noticed crows in the meadows ever since they were first partially bare, three weeks ago.

I have noticed crows
in the bare meadows ever
since three weeks ago.

The sap, then, is now generally flowing upward in red and white maples in warm positions. See it flowing from maple twigs which were gnawed off by rabbits in the winter. 

Maple twigs gnawed off
by rabbits in the winter.
The sap now flowing.

Black drops of this thick, sweet syrup spot the under sides of the twigs. No doubt the bees and‘other insects frequent the maples now. I thought I heard the hum of a bee, but perhaps it was a railroad whistle on the Lowell Railroad. 


The hum of a bee? –
perhaps the railroad whistle
on the Lowell line.

The ice of the river is very rapidly softening, still concealed by snow, the upper part becoming homogeneous with the melting snow above it. I sometimes slump into snow and ice six or eight inches, to the harder ice beneath.
Ice of the river
is rapidly softening,
still concealed by snow.
March 22, 1856

Many tracks of crows in snow along the edge of the open water against Merrick’s at Island. They thus visit the edge of water—this and brooks —before any ground is exposed. Is it for small shellfish?

Many tracks of crows 
in snow along the edge of 
the open water 

I see two [sheldrakes] very far off on a bright-blue bay where the waves are running high. They are two intensely white specks, which yet you might mistake for the foaming crest of waves. Now one disappears, but soon is seen again, and then its companion is lost in like manner, having dived. 

Intensely white specks  
far off on a bright-blue bay
where the waves run high.

It is a peculiarly still hour now, when the first drops of rain begin to be heard on the dry leaves around me, and, looking up, I see very high in the air two large birds. 

The first drops of rain 
begin to be heard on the 
dry leaves around me.

A driving northeast snow-storm yesterday and last night. To-day the drifts are high over the fences and the trains stopped. 

The Boston train due 
at 8.30 A.M. does not 
reach here till five.
March 22, 1861

March 22, 2022


If you make the least correct 
observation of nature this year,
 you will have occasion to repeat it
 with illustrations the next, 
and the season and life itself is prolonged.
 
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 © 2009-2024

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