Sunday, April 17, 2016

A Book of the Seasons: April 17.

April 17.

April 17, 2021


The distant white pines over the Spanish Brook seem to flake into tiers; the whole tree looks like an open cone.

The distant white pines
flake into tiers, the whole tree
like an open cone.
April 17, 1855



So quickly and surely does a bee find the earliest flower, as if he had slumbered all winter at the root of the plant. No matter what pains you take, probably —undoubtedly—an insect will have found the first flower before you.

Quickly and surely
the bee finds the first flower
before the poet.
April 17, 1855




Rain. It rains about
every other day now
for a fortnight past.


The female flowers
 of the alder bright-crimson
 seen against the sun,.



How pleasing and soothing are some of the first and least audible sounds of awakened nature in the spring, as this first humming of bees, etc.,

We are charmed by
the first vibration of an
insect's wing in spring.

How pleasing the sounds 
awakened nature in spring
first humming of bees.

April 17, 1859




Sunny nook in spring —
go  ten feet  this way to the 
lee of a bush and —
 

your charmed ears may hear 
this faint susurrus weaving 
the web of summer. 

We begin to be
more outdoors, come in chiefly
to eat and to sleep.
April 17, 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 © 2009-2021

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