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
These November days
twilight makes so large a part
of the afternoon.
November 28, 2020
We make a good deal of the early twilights of these November days, they make so large a part of the afternoon. November 28, 1859
Still very clear and bright as well as comfortable weather. November 28, 1854
Think how variously men spend the same hour in the same village! November 28, 1859
Boys skating in Cambridgeport, — the first ice to bear. November 28, 1853
The farmers are beginning to pick up their dead wood. November 28, 1850
Goodwin is cutting out a few cords of dead wood in the midst of E. Hubbard's old lot. November 28, 1859
The lawyer sits talking with his client in the twilight; the trader is weighing sugar and salt; while Abel Brooks is hastening home from the woods with his basket half full of chips. November 28, 1859
Cold drizzling and misty rains, which have melted the little snow. November 28, 1850
A gray, overcast, still day, and more small birds —tree sparrows and chickadees — than usual about the house. November 28, 1858
There have been a very few fine snowflakes falling for many hours, and now, by 2 P. M., a regular snow-storm has commenced, fine flakes falling steadily, and rapidly whitening all the landscape. November 28, 1858
In half an hour the russet earth is painted white even to the horizon. Do we know of any other so silent and sudden a change? November 28, 1858
Boys skating in Cambridgeport, — the first ice to bear. November 28, 1853
The farmers are beginning to pick up their dead wood. November 28, 1850
Goodwin is cutting out a few cords of dead wood in the midst of E. Hubbard's old lot. November 28, 1859
The lawyer sits talking with his client in the twilight; the trader is weighing sugar and salt; while Abel Brooks is hastening home from the woods with his basket half full of chips. November 28, 1859
Cold drizzling and misty rains, which have melted the little snow. November 28, 1850
A gray, overcast, still day, and more small birds —tree sparrows and chickadees — than usual about the house. November 28, 1858
There have been a very few fine snowflakes falling for many hours, and now, by 2 P. M., a regular snow-storm has commenced, fine flakes falling steadily, and rapidly whitening all the landscape. November 28, 1858
In half an hour the russet earth is painted white even to the horizon. Do we know of any other so silent and sudden a change? November 28, 1858
Within a day or two the walker finds gloves to be comfortable, and begins to think of an outside coat and of boots. Embarks in his boots for the winter voyage. November 28, 1850
I cannot now walk without leaving a track behind me; that is one peculiarity of winter walking. November 28, 1858
On the hillside above his swamp, near the Ministerial land, I found myself walking in one of those shelf-like hillside paths made by Indians, hunters, cows, or what-not, and it was beset with fresh snares for partridges. November 28, 1857
I saw one that was sprung with nothing in it, another whose slip-noose was blown or fallen one side, and another with a partridge still warm in it. November 28, 1857
It was a male bird hanging dead by the neck, just touching its toes to the ground. It had a collar or ruff about its neck, of large and conspicuous black feathers with a green reflection. November 28, 1857
The general color of the bird is that of the ground and dry leaves on it at present. The bird hanging in the snare was very inconspicuous. November 28, 1857
These birds appear to run most along the sides of wooded banks around swamps. At least these paths and snares occur there oftenest. November 28, 1857
I often scare them up from amid or near hemlocks in the woods. November 28, 1857
The mass of men are very easily imposed on. They have their runways in which they always travel, and are sure to fall into any pit or box trap set therein. November 28, 1860
There is scarcely a wood of sufficient size and density left now for an owl to haunt in, and if I hear one hoot I may be sure where he is. November 28, 1859
Spoke to Skinner about that wildcat which he says he heard a month ago in Ebby Hubbard’s woods. . . . a low sort of growling and then a sudden quick-repeated caterwaul, or yow yow you, or yang yang yang. He says they utter this from time to time when on the track of some prey. November 28, 1857
And all the years that I have known Walden these striped breams have skulked in it without my knowledge! How many new thoughts, then, may I have? November 28, 1858
To Annursnack. Looking from the hilltop, I should say that there is more oak woodland than pine to be seen, especially in the north and northeast, but it is somewhat difficult to distinguish all in the gleaming sunlight of mid-afternoon. November 28, 1860
As I stand looking down the hill over Emerson's young wood-lot there, perhaps at 3.30 p. m., the sunlight reflected from the many ascending twigs of bare young chestnuts and birches, very dense and ascendant with a marked parallelism, they remind me of the lines of gossamer at this season, being almost exactly similar to the eye. November 28, 1856
It is a true November phenomenon. November 28, 1856
I look down now on the top of a pitch pine wood southwest of Brooks's Pigeon-place, and its top, so nearly level, has a peculiarly rich and crispy look in the sun. November 28, 1856
Saw Abel Brooks there with a half-bushel basket on his arm. He was picking up chips on his and neighboring lots; had got about two quarts of old and blackened pine chips, and with these was returning home at dusk more than a mile. November 28, 1859
He had thus spent an hour or two and walked two or three miles in a cool November evening to pick up two quarts of pine chips scattered through the woods. November 28, 1859
He evidently takes real satisfaction in collecting his fuel, perhaps gets more heat of all kinds out of it than any man in town. He is not reduced to taking a walk for exercise as some are. November 28, 1859
Evidently the quantity of chips in his basket is not essential; it is the chippy idea which he pursues. November 28, 1859
I think I should prefer to be with Brooks. He was literally as smiling as a basket of chips. November 28, 1859
I cannot now walk without leaving a track behind me; that is one peculiarity of winter walking. November 28, 1858
On the hillside above his swamp, near the Ministerial land, I found myself walking in one of those shelf-like hillside paths made by Indians, hunters, cows, or what-not, and it was beset with fresh snares for partridges. November 28, 1857
I saw one that was sprung with nothing in it, another whose slip-noose was blown or fallen one side, and another with a partridge still warm in it. November 28, 1857
It was a male bird hanging dead by the neck, just touching its toes to the ground. It had a collar or ruff about its neck, of large and conspicuous black feathers with a green reflection. November 28, 1857
The general color of the bird is that of the ground and dry leaves on it at present. The bird hanging in the snare was very inconspicuous. November 28, 1857
These birds appear to run most along the sides of wooded banks around swamps. At least these paths and snares occur there oftenest. November 28, 1857
I often scare them up from amid or near hemlocks in the woods. November 28, 1857
The mass of men are very easily imposed on. They have their runways in which they always travel, and are sure to fall into any pit or box trap set therein. November 28, 1860
There is scarcely a wood of sufficient size and density left now for an owl to haunt in, and if I hear one hoot I may be sure where he is. November 28, 1859
Spoke to Skinner about that wildcat which he says he heard a month ago in Ebby Hubbard’s woods. . . . a low sort of growling and then a sudden quick-repeated caterwaul, or yow yow you, or yang yang yang. He says they utter this from time to time when on the track of some prey. November 28, 1857
And all the years that I have known Walden these striped breams have skulked in it without my knowledge! How many new thoughts, then, may I have? November 28, 1858
To Annursnack. Looking from the hilltop, I should say that there is more oak woodland than pine to be seen, especially in the north and northeast, but it is somewhat difficult to distinguish all in the gleaming sunlight of mid-afternoon. November 28, 1860
As I stand looking down the hill over Emerson's young wood-lot there, perhaps at 3.30 p. m., the sunlight reflected from the many ascending twigs of bare young chestnuts and birches, very dense and ascendant with a marked parallelism, they remind me of the lines of gossamer at this season, being almost exactly similar to the eye. November 28, 1856
It is a true November phenomenon. November 28, 1856
I look down now on the top of a pitch pine wood southwest of Brooks's Pigeon-place, and its top, so nearly level, has a peculiarly rich and crispy look in the sun. November 28, 1856
Saw Abel Brooks there with a half-bushel basket on his arm. He was picking up chips on his and neighboring lots; had got about two quarts of old and blackened pine chips, and with these was returning home at dusk more than a mile. November 28, 1859
He had thus spent an hour or two and walked two or three miles in a cool November evening to pick up two quarts of pine chips scattered through the woods. November 28, 1859
He evidently takes real satisfaction in collecting his fuel, perhaps gets more heat of all kinds out of it than any man in town. He is not reduced to taking a walk for exercise as some are. November 28, 1859
Evidently the quantity of chips in his basket is not essential; it is the chippy idea which he pursues. November 28, 1859
I think I should prefer to be with Brooks. He was literally as smiling as a basket of chips. November 28, 1859
Goodwin cannot be a very bad man, he is so cheery. November 28, 1858
Were those plover which just after sunset flew low over the bank above the railroad and alighted in the opposite meadow, with some white in tails like larks? November 28, 1854
Were those plover which just after sunset flew low over the bank above the railroad and alighted in the opposite meadow, with some white in tails like larks? November 28, 1854
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Seen from a Hillside
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Gossamer Days
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, November Sunsets
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Chickadee in Winter
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Partridge
A Book of Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Voice of the Barred Owl
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, First Ice
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, November days
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Snow-storms might be classified.
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau,
November 28, 2020
March 30, 1860 (“It is time to begin to leave your greatcoat at home, to put on shoes instead of boots and feel lightfooted.”)
September 13, 1858 ("Looking from the top of Annursnack, the aspect of the earth generally is still a fresh green, especially the woods, but many dry fields, where apparently the June-grass has withered uncut, are a very pale tawny or lighter still. It is fit that some animals should be nearly of this color. The cougar would hardly be observed stealing across these plains. In one place I still detect the ruddiness of sorrel.")
September 13, 1858 ("A small dense flock of wild pigeons dashes by over the side of the hill, from west to east, — perhaps from Wetherbee’s to Brooks’s, for I see the latter’s pigeon place. They make a dark slate-gray impression")
September 13, 1860 ("Five [lynx] I have heard of (and seen three) killed within some fifteen or eighteen miles of Concord within thirty years past.")
September 15, 1859 ("To Annursnack. Dense flocks of pigeons hurry-skurry over the hill. Pass near Brooks's pigeon-stands. There was a flock perched on his poles, and they sat so still and in such regular order there, being also the color of the wood, that I thought they were wooden figures at first.")
October 12, 1857 ("Looking from the Hill. . . .. I am not sure but the yellow now prevails over the red in the landscape, and even over the green. The general color of the landscape from this hill is now russet, i.e. red, yellow, etc., mingled. The maple fires are generally about burnt out. Yet I can see . . .yellows on Mt. Misery, five miles off, also on Pine Hill, and even on Mt. Tabor, indistinctly. Eastward, I distinguish red or yellow in the woods as far as the horizon, and it is most distant on that side")
October 20, 1857 ("Melvin tells me that Skinner says he thinks he heard a wildcat scream in E. Hubbard's Wood, by the Close. It is worth the while to have a Skinner in the town; else we should not know that we had wildcats.")
October 22, 1853 (" One-eyed John Goodwin, the fisherman, was loading into a hand-cart and conveying home the piles of driftwood which of late he had collected with his boat. It was a beautiful evening, and a clear amber sunset lit up all the eastern shores; and that man's employment, so simple and direct, — . . . thus to obtain his winter's wood, — charmed me unspeakably")
October 25, 1858 (“The light reflected from the parallel twigs of birches recently bare, etc., like the gleam from gossamer lines. This is another Novemberish phenomenon. Call these November Lights”)
October 22, 1853 (" One-eyed John Goodwin, the fisherman, was loading into a hand-cart and conveying home the piles of driftwood which of late he had collected with his boat. It was a beautiful evening, and a clear amber sunset lit up all the eastern shores; and that man's employment, so simple and direct, — . . . thus to obtain his winter's wood, — charmed me unspeakably")
October 25, 1858 (“The light reflected from the parallel twigs of birches recently bare, etc., like the gleam from gossamer lines. This is another Novemberish phenomenon. Call these November Lights”)
November 3, 1857 ("Looking westward now, at 4 P.M., I see against the sunlight, where the twigs of a maple and black birch intermingle, a little gossamer or fine cobwebs, but much more the twigs, especially of the birch, waving slightly, reflect the light like cobwebs. It is a phenomenon peculiar to this season, when the twigs are bare and the air is clear. I cannot easily tell what is cobweb and what twig,")
November 4, 1858 ("I took out my glass, and beheld Goodwin, the one-eyed Ajax, in his short blue frock, short and square-bodied, as broad as for his height he can afford to be, getting his winter's wood; for this is one of the phenomena of the season. ")
November 4, 1858 ("On the 1st, when I stood on Poplar Hill, I saw a man. . .took out my glass, and beheld Goodwin, the one-eyed Ajax, in his short blue frock, short and square-bodied, as broad as for his height he can afford to be.")
November 8, 1857 ("I step over the slip-noose snares which some woodling has just set. How long since men set snares for partridges and rabbits?")
November 13, 1858 (“Thus it comes stealthily in the night and changes the whole aspect of the earth.”)
November 14, 1853 ("I climb Annursnack. . . From this hill I am struck with the smoothness and washed appearance of all the landscape. All these russet fields and swells look as if the withered grass had been combed by the flowing water. . . .. All waters — the rivers and ponds and swollen brooks — and many new ones are now seen through the leafless trees — are blue reservoirs of dark indigo amid the general russet and reddish-brown and gray.")
November 15, 1858 (" you are now reminded occasionally in your walks that you have contemporaries, and perchance predecessors. I see the track of a fox . . ., and, in the wood-path, of a man and a dog.")
November 18,1851 ("Surveying these days the Ministerial Lot . . .I hear the hooting of an owl . . . Here hawks also circle by day, and chickadees are heard, and rabbits and partridges abound.")
*****
So sudden a change –
the russet earth painted white
to the horizon.
November 28, 1858
*****
December 3, 1856 ( Bought me a pair of cowhide boots, to be prepared for winter walks. . . .The man who has bought his boots feels like him who has got in his winter's wood.”)
December 5, 1853 ("Now for the short days and early twilight”)December 6, 1854 ("I see thick ice and boys skating all the way to Providence, but know not when it froze, I have been so busy writing my lecture.")
December 6, 1859 ("I took out my boots. .., and went forth in the snow. That is an era, when, in the beginning of the winter, you change from the shoes of summer to the boots of winter.")
December 9, 1856 ("The worker who would accomplish much these short days must shear a dusky slice off both ends of the night”)
December 11, 1854 ("The day is short; it seems to be composed of two twilights merely; the morning and the evening twilight make the whole day.”)
December 14. 1851 ("The boys have been skating for a week, but I have had no time to skate for surveying. I have hardly realized that there was ice, though I have walked over it about this business.")
December 14, 1859 ("Snow-storms might be classified. This is a fine, dry snow")
December 15, 1855 ("The boys have skated a little within two or three days, but it has not been thick enough to bear a man yet.")
December 15, 1857 ("Within a day or two, I saw another partridge in the snare of November 28th, frozen stiff. To-day I see that some creature has torn and disembowelled it, removing it half a rod, leaving the head in snare, which has lifted it three or four feet in the air on account of its lightness. This last bird was either a female or young male, its ruff and bar on tail being rather dark-brown than black.")
January 19, 1852 ("It is pleasant to make the first tracks in this road through the woods, . . . the fine, dry snow blowing and drifting still.")
January 22, 1854("No second snow-storm in the winter can be so fair and interesting as the first"); January 26, 1855 ("This morning it snows again,—a fine dry snow with no wind to speak of, giving a wintry aspect to the landscape. . . . What changes in the aspect of the earth!")
February 16, 2014 ("That Indian trail on the hillside about Walden is revealed with remarkable distinctness. . . by the slight snow which had lodged on it forming a clear white line unobscured by weeds and twigs.")
February 17, 1852 ("The shortness of the days, when we naturally look to the heavens and make the most of the little light, when we live an arctic life, when the woodchopper's axe reminds us of twilight at 3 o'clock p. m., when the morning and the evening literally make the whole day")
November 28, 2020
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, November 28
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 © 2009-2022
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