The wet scent of the umbrella.

March 21. 

Warm rain, April-like, the first of the season, holding up from time to time, though always completely overcast. 

P. M. – To Ministerial Swamp via Little River. 

Standing by the mud-hole in the swamp, I hear the pleasant phebe note of the chickadee. It is, methinks, the most of a wilderness note of any yet. It is peculiarly interesting that this, which is one of our winter birds also, should have a note with which to welcome the spring. 

Standing by that pool, it is pleasant to see the dimples made on its smooth surface by the big drops, after the rain has held up a quarter of an hour. 

The skunk-cabbage at Clamshell is well out, shedding pollen. It is evident that the date of its flowering is very fluctuating, according to the condition in which the winter leaves the crust of the meadow. 

This first spring rain is very agreeable. I love to hear the pattering of the drops on my umbrella, and I love also the wet scent of the umbrella. It helps take the remaining frost out and settles the ways, but there is yet frost and ice in meadows and swamps.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, March 21, 1858

It is peculiarly interesting that this, which is one of our winter birds also, should have a note with which to welcome the spring. See January 9, 1858 ("Some chickadees come flitting close to me, and one utters its spring note, phe-be, for which I feel under obligations to him."); See February 9, 1856 ("I hear a phoebe note from a chickadee"); February 24, 1857 ("A chickadee with its winter lisp flits over, and I think it is time to hear its phebe note, and that instant it pipes it forth. ");  March 1, 1854 ("I hear the phoebe or spring note of the chickadee"); March 1, 1856 ("I hear several times the fine-drawn phe-be note of the chickadee, which I heard only once during the winter. Singular that I should hear this on the first spring day."); March 10, 1852 ("Hear the phoebe note of the chickadee to-day for the first time. I had at first heard their day-day-day ungratefully,- ah! you but carry my thoughts back to winter, - but anon I find that they too have become spring birds; they have changed their note. Even they feel the influence of spring."):   March 11, 1854 (" Air full of birds, — bluebirds, song sparrows, chickadee (phoebe notes), and blackbirds. Bluebirds' warbling curls in elms.”); March 14, 1852 (" I see a flock of blackbirds and hear their conqueree. The ground is mostly bare now. Again I hear the chickadee's spring note.”); March 19, 1858 ("Hear the phebe note of a chickadee."); March 22, 1855 ("The jays scream. I hear the downy woodpecker’s rapid tapping and my first distinct spring note (phe-be) of the chickadee.”). See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Signs of the Spring: the spring note of the chickadee

The skunk-cabbage at Clamshell is well out, shedding pollen. The date of its flowering is very fluctuating. See February 18, 1851 (" See the skunk-cabbage in flower.”); March 2, 1859 (“Under the alders at Well Meadow I see a few skunk- cabbage spathes fairly open on the side, and these may bloom after a day or two of pleasant weather.”): March 6, 1854 ("I see the skunk- cabbage started about the spring at head of Hubbard's Close'") March 8, 1855 ("As the ice melts in the swamps I see the horn-shaped buds of the skunk-cabbage, green with a bluish bloom, standing uninjured, ready to feel the influence of the sun, - the most prepared for spring—to look at— of any plant."); March 18, 1860 (The skunk-cabbage, now generally and abundantly in bloom all along under Clamshell"); March 30, 1856 ("I am surprised to see the skunk cabbage, with its great spear-heads open and ready to blossom (i. e. shed pollen in a day or two)"); April 7, 1855 ("The skunk-cabbage open yesterday, — the earliest flower this season."). See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Signs of Spring: the Skunk Cabbage

This first spring rain is very agreeable. I love to hear the pattering of the drops on my umbrella, and I love also the wet scent of the umbrella. See April 4, 1853 ("A warm, dripping rain, heard on one's umbrella as on a snug roof, and on the leaves without, suggests comfort.")

March 21.  See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, March 21

This first spring rain I 

love to hear the pattering 

on my umbrella.

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The wet scent of the umbrella

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