The year is but a succession of days,
and I see that I could assign some office to each day
which, summed up, would be the history of the year.
Henry Thoreau, August 24, 1852
A sky without clouds –
a meadow without flowers,
a sea without sails.
June 24, 2012
What could a man learn by watching the clouds? They are among the most glorious objects in nature. They are the flitting sails in that ocean whose bounds no man has visited. June 24, 1852
The calopogon is a more bluish purple than the pogonia. June 24, 1853
June 24, 2015
A kingbird’s nest just completed in an apple tree. June 24, 1856
June 24, 2017
Looked over Farmer's eggs and list of names. He has several which I have not . . . The eggs were numbered with a pen, — 1, 2, 3, etc., — and corresponding numbers written against the names on the cover of the pasteboard box in which were the eggs. June 24, 1857
Storrow Higginson gives me a bobolink's egg. June 24, 1858
Start a woodcock from amid ferns. All plants leafed, and summer commenced. June 24, 1860
June 24, 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 © 2009-2023
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