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
Red white green and dark
brown are the colors of
the winter landscape.
Sunset in winter
from a clearing in the woods –
golden clouds like mountains.
Glorious winter,
its elements so simple –
clear air, white snow, ice.
The icy water
reflecting the warm colors
of the sunset sky.
its elements so simple, —the sharp clear air,
the white snow everywhere covering the earth,
and the polished ice."
Go out before sunrise or stay out till sunset. December 20, 1851
Snow-squalls pass, obscuring the sun, as if blown off from a larger storm. December 20, 1851
Since last Monday the ground has been covered half a foot or more with snow; and the ice also, before I have had a skate December 20, 1851.
Hitherto we had had mostly bare, frozen ground. December 20, 1851
Snows very fast, large flakes, a very lodging snow, quite moist; turns to rain in afternoon. December 20, 1859
Most walkers are pretty effectually shut up by the snow. December 20, 1851
To omit the first mere whitening, —
Snow-squalls pass, obscuring the sun, as if blown off from a larger storm. December 20, 1851
Since last Monday the ground has been covered half a foot or more with snow; and the ice also, before I have had a skate December 20, 1851.
Hitherto we had had mostly bare, frozen ground. December 20, 1851
Snows very fast, large flakes, a very lodging snow, quite moist; turns to rain in afternoon. December 20, 1859
Most walkers are pretty effectually shut up by the snow. December 20, 1851
To omit the first mere whitening, —
- There was the snow of the 4th December.
- 11th was a lodging snow, it being mild and still, like to-day (only it was not so moist).
- Was succeeded next day noon by a strong and cold northwest wind.
- 14th, a fine, dry, cold, driving and drifting storm.
- 20th (to-day's), a very lodging, moist, and large- flaked snow, turning to rain. To be classed with the 11th in the main. This wets the woodchopper about as much as rain.
If we leave the sleigh for a moment, it whitens the seat, which must be turned over. December 20, 1859
We are soon thickly covered, and it lodges on the twigs of the trees and bushes, — there being but little wind, — giving them a very white and soft, spiritual look. Gives them a still, soft, and light look. December 20, 1859
When the flakes fall thus large and fast and are so moist and melting, we think it will not last long, and this turned to rain in a few hours, after three or four inches had fallen. December 20, 1859
Rain more or less all day. December 20, 1856
7 A. M. —To Hill. December 20, 1854
A. M. – To Easterbrooks Country with Ricketson. December 20, 1857
A. M. — To T. Wheeler wood-lot. December 20, 1859
I see the mother-o’-pearl tints now, at sunrise, on the clouds high over the eastern horizon before the sun has risen above the low bank in the east. December 20, 1854
The sky in the eastern horizon has that same greenish-vitreous, gem-like appearance which it has at sundown, as if it were of perfectly clear glass, —with the green tint of a large mass of glass. December 20, 1854
The coldest morning as yet. December 20, 1854
The woodchoppers are making haste to their work far off, walking fast to keep warm, before the sun has risen, their ears and hands well covered, the dry, cold snow squeaking under their feet. December 20, 1854
Saw a large hawk circling over a pine wood below me, and screaming, apparently that he might discover his prey by their flight. December 20, 1851
A hen-hawk circling over that wild region. See its red tail. December 20, 1857
Travelling ever by wider circles. December 20, 1851
Before you were aware of it, he had mounted by his spiral path into the heavens. December 20, 1851
Circling and ever circling, you cannot divine which way it will incline, till perchance it dives down straight as an arrow to its mark. December 20, 1851
It rises higher above where I stand, and I see with beautiful distinctness its wings against the sky, December 20, 1851
Most gracefully so surveys new scenes and revisits the old. December 20, 1851
Here are some crows already seeking their breakfast in the orchard, and I hear a red squirrel’s reproof. December 20, 1854
A few chickadees busily inspecting the buds at the willow-row ivy tree, for insects, with a short, clear chink from time to time, as if to warn me of their neighborhood. December 20, 1855
The cellar stairs at the old Hunt house are made of square oak timbers; also the stairs to the chamber of the back part of apparently square maple (?) timber, much worn. December 20, 1857
The generous cellar stairs! December 20, 1857
The river appears to be frozen everywhere. December 20, 1854
The snow which has blown on to the ice has taken the form of regular star-shaped crystals, an inch in diameter. December 20, 1854
Where was water last night is a firm bridge of ice this morning. December 20, 1854
I walk along the side of the river, on the ice beyond the Bath Place. December 20, 1855
Already there is dust on this smooth ice, on its countless facets, revealed by the sun. December 20, 1855
I stamp and shake the ice to detect the holes and weak places where that little brook comes in there. December 20, 1855
They are plainly revealed, for the water beneath, being agitated, proclaims itself at every hole far and wide or for three or four rods. December 20, 1855
The edge of the ice toward the channel is either rubbed up or edged with a ridge of frozen foam. December 20, 1855
How warm the dull-red cranberry vine rises above the ice here and there! December 20, 1855
I see some gossamer on the weeds above the ice. December 20, 1855
I mark the many preparations for another year which the farmer has made, — his late plowings, his muck-heaps in fields, perhaps of grass, which he intends to plow and cultivate, his ditches to carry off the winter’s floods, etc. December 20, 1855
Saturday. 2 P. M. – To Fair Haven Hill and plain below. December 20, 1851
P. M. — To Hubbard’s skating meadow. December 20, 1855
P. M. — Skate to Fair Haven. December 20, 1854
Still no snow, and, as usual, I wear no gloves. December 20, 1855
It is very fine skating for the most part. December 20, 1854
All of the river that was not frozen before, and therefore not covered with snow on the 18th, is now frozen quite smoothly; but in some places for a quarter of a mile it is uneven like frozen suds, in rounded pan cakes, as when bread spews out in baking. December 20, 1854
C.’s skates are not the best, and beside he is far from an easy skater, so that, as he said, it was killing work for him. December 20, 1854
Time and again the perspiration actually dropped from his forehead on to the ice, and it froze in long icicles on his beard. December 20, 1854
If there is a grub out, you are sure to detect it on the snow or ice. December 20, 1854
The shadows of the Clamshell Hills are beautifully blue as I look back half a mile at them, and, in some places, where the sun falls on it, the snow has a pinkish tinge. December 20, 1854
Cold as it is, the sun seems warmer on my back even than in summer, as if its rays met with less obstruction. December 20, 1854
I am surprised to find how fast the dog can run in a straight line on the ice. I am not sure that I can beat him on skates, but I can turn much shorter. December 20, 1854
Also, in now hard, dark ice, the tracks apparently of a fox, made when it was saturated snow. December 20, 1855
So long his trail is revealed, but over the pastures no hound can now trace him. December 20, 1855
It is so cold that only in one place did I see a drop of water flowing out on the ice. December 20, 1854
There has been much overflow about every tussock in the meadow, making that rough, opaque ice, like yeast. December 20, 1855
It is pretty good on the meadows, which are somewhat overflown, and the sides of the river, but the greater part of it is open. December 20, 1855
The ice is that portion of the flood which is congealed and laid up in our fields for a season. December 20, 1855
Boys are now devoted to skating after school at night, far into evening, going without their suppers. December 20, 1855
And then the air is so beautifully still; there is not an insect in the air, and hardly a leaf to rustle. December 20, 1854
At sun down or before, it begins to belch. December 20, 1854
Walden is frozen over, except two small spots, less than half an acre in all, in middle. December 20, 1858
The red shrub oaks on the white ground of the plain beneath make a pretty scene. December 20, 1851
The red oak leaves are even more fresh and glossy than the white. December 20, 1851
A clump of white pines, seen far westward over the shrub oak plain, which is now lit up by the setting sun, a soft, feathery grove, with their gray stems indistinctly seen, like human beings come to their cabin door, standing expectant on the edge of the plain, impress me with a mild humanity. December 20, 1851
The trees indeed have hearts. December 20, 1851
With a certain affection the sun seems to send its farewell ray far and level over the copses to them, and they silently receive it with gratitude, like a group of settlers with their children. December 20, 1851
P. M. — To Hubbard’s skating meadow. December 20, 1855
P. M. — Skate to Fair Haven. December 20, 1854
Still no snow, and, as usual, I wear no gloves. December 20, 1855
It is very fine skating for the most part. December 20, 1854
All of the river that was not frozen before, and therefore not covered with snow on the 18th, is now frozen quite smoothly; but in some places for a quarter of a mile it is uneven like frozen suds, in rounded pan cakes, as when bread spews out in baking. December 20, 1854
C.’s skates are not the best, and beside he is far from an easy skater, so that, as he said, it was killing work for him. December 20, 1854
Time and again the perspiration actually dropped from his forehead on to the ice, and it froze in long icicles on his beard. December 20, 1854
If there is a grub out, you are sure to detect it on the snow or ice. December 20, 1854
The shadows of the Clamshell Hills are beautifully blue as I look back half a mile at them, and, in some places, where the sun falls on it, the snow has a pinkish tinge. December 20, 1854
Cold as it is, the sun seems warmer on my back even than in summer, as if its rays met with less obstruction. December 20, 1854
I am surprised to find how fast the dog can run in a straight line on the ice. I am not sure that I can beat him on skates, but I can turn much shorter. December 20, 1854
Also, in now hard, dark ice, the tracks apparently of a fox, made when it was saturated snow. December 20, 1855
So long his trail is revealed, but over the pastures no hound can now trace him. December 20, 1855
It is so cold that only in one place did I see a drop of water flowing out on the ice. December 20, 1854
There has been much overflow about every tussock in the meadow, making that rough, opaque ice, like yeast. December 20, 1855
It is pretty good on the meadows, which are somewhat overflown, and the sides of the river, but the greater part of it is open. December 20, 1855
The ice is that portion of the flood which is congealed and laid up in our fields for a season. December 20, 1855
Boys are now devoted to skating after school at night, far into evening, going without their suppers. December 20, 1855
And then the air is so beautifully still; there is not an insect in the air, and hardly a leaf to rustle. December 20, 1854
At sun down or before, it begins to belch. December 20, 1854
Walden is frozen over, except two small spots, less than half an acre in all, in middle. December 20, 1858
The red shrub oaks on the white ground of the plain beneath make a pretty scene. December 20, 1851
The red oak leaves are even more fresh and glossy than the white. December 20, 1851
A clump of white pines, seen far westward over the shrub oak plain, which is now lit up by the setting sun, a soft, feathery grove, with their gray stems indistinctly seen, like human beings come to their cabin door, standing expectant on the edge of the plain, impress me with a mild humanity. December 20, 1851
The trees indeed have hearts. December 20, 1851
With a certain affection the sun seems to send its farewell ray far and level over the copses to them, and they silently receive it with gratitude, like a group of settlers with their children. December 20, 1851
Nothing stands up more free from blame in this world than a pine tree. December 20, 1851
The pines impress me as human. December 20, 1851
A slight vaporous cloud floats high over them, while in the west the sun goes down apace behind glowing pines, and golden clouds like mountains skirt the horizon. December 20, 1851
Red, white, green, and, in the distance, dark brown are the colors of the winter landscape. December 20, 1851
It has been a glorious winter day, its elements so simple, — the sharp clear air, the white snow everywhere covering the earth, and the polished ice. December 20, 1854
How placid, like silver or like steel in different lights, the surface of the still, living water between these borders of ice, reflecting the weeds and trees, and now the warm colors of the sunset sky! December 20, 1855
Sunset in winter from a clearing in the woods, about Well Meadow Head. December 20, 1851
Sunset in winter from a clearing in the woods, about Well Meadow Head. December 20, 1851
December 20, 2019
*****
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Winter Sunsets
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The hen-hawk
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the American Crow
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Gossamer Days
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Shrub Oak
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Winter of Skating
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Winter Colors
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Snow-storms might be classified.
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, First Ice
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The world can never be more beautiful than now
*****
March 15, 1856 ("These hawks, as usual, began to be common about the first of March, showing that they were returning from their winter quarters.")
June 5, 1854 ("I have come to this hill to see the sun go down, to recover sanity and put myself again in relation with Nature.”)
June 15, 1852 ("I hear the scream of a great hawk, sailing with a ragged wing against the high wood-side, apparently to scare his prey and so detect it ")
September 13, 1859 ("You must be outdoors long, early and late.")
October 28, 1857 ("His scream . . . is a hoarse, tremulous breathing forth of his winged energy. But why is it so regularly repeated at that height? Is it to scare his prey, that he may see by its motion where it is, or to inform its mate or companion of its where about?
November 4, 1852 ("I keep out-of-doors for the sake of the mineral, vegetable, and animal in me.");
December 4, 1859 ("Awake to winter, and snow two or three inches deep, the first of any consequence.")
November 13, 1857 ("See the sun rise or set if possible each day.")
December 6, 1852 ("A great slate-colored hawk sails away from the Cliffs. ")
December 6, 1852 ("A great slate-colored hawk sails away from the Cliffs. ")
December 9, 1859 (“I observe at mid-afternoon that peculiarly softened western sky, . . .giving it a slight greenish tinge.”)
December 11, 1854 ("That peculiar clear vitreous greenish sky in the west, as it were a molten gem.”);
December 11, 1855 ("The winter, with its snow and ice, is as it was designed and made to be.”)December 11, 1858 ("Walden is about one-third skimmed over.")
December 11, 1859 (“Still, normal storm, large flakes, warm enough, lodging”)
December 14, 1859 ("This is a fine, dry snow, drifting nearly horizontally from the north, so that it is quite blinding to face")
December 14, 1859 ("Snow-storms might be classified. . . .That of the 11th was a still storm, of large flakes falling gently in the quiet air")
December 15, 1854 ("I see on the ice, half a dozen rods from shore, a small brown striped grub, and again a black one . . .. How came they there?”)
December 15, 1855 (". . .A steady but gentle, warm rain.")
December 19, 1851 ("Why should it be so pleasing to look into a thick pine wood where the sunlight streams in and gilds it? . . .Now the sun sets suddenly without a cloud– & with scarcely any redness following so pure is the atmosphere – only a faint rosy blush along the horizon.")
December 19, 1854 ("Skated a half-mile up Assabet and then to foot of Fair Haven Hill. This is the first tolerable skating.")
December 21 1851 (Long after the sun has set, and downy clouds have turned dark, and the shades of night have taken possession of the east, some rosy clouds will be seen in the upper sky over the portals of the darkening west.")
December 21, 1855 ("A few simple colors now prevail.")
December 21, 1854 ("Fair Haven Pond, for instance, a perfectly level plain of white snow, untrodden as yet by any fisherman, surrounded by snow-clad hills, dark evergreen woods, and reddish oak leaves, so pure and still.")
December 21 1851("As I stand by the edge of the swamp (Ministerial), a heavy-winged hawk flies home to it at sundown, just over my head, in silence.")
December 21, 1854 ("We are tempted to call these the finest days of the year.")
December 21, 1854 "Walden is frozen over, apparently about two inches thick. It must have frozen, the whole of it, since the snow of the 18th,-— probably the night of the 18th")
December 21, 1855 (“Walden is skimmed over, all but an acre, in my cove.”)
December 21, 1856 ("The pond is open again in the middle, owing to the rain of yesterday.")
December 22, 1853 ("Walden skimmed over in the widest part, but some acres still open; will probably freeze entirely to-night if this weather holds.”)
December 22, 1858 (“The pond is no more frozen than on the 20th.”)
December 22, 1855 ("Warm rain and frost coming out and muddy walking.")
December 23, 1845 ("The pond froze over last night entirely for the first time, yet so as not to be safe to walk upon”)
December 23, 1851 (“Now the sun has quite disappeared, but the afterglow, as I may call it, apparently the reflection from the cloud beyond which the sun went down on the thick atmosphere of the horizon, is unusually bright and lasting. Long, broken clouds in the horizon, in the dun atmosphere, — as if the fires of day were still smoking there, — hang with red and golden edging like the saddle cloths of the steeds of the sun.”)
December 24, 1851 (“When I had got home and chanced to look out the window from supper, I perceived that all the west horizon was glowing with a rosy border.”)
December 24, 1856 ("Am surprised to find Walden still open in the middle.”)
December 24, 1859 ("There is, in all, an acre or two in Walden not yet frozen, though half of it has been frozen more than a week")
December 24, 1858 ("Those two places in middle of Walden not frozen over yet, though it was quite cold last night! ")
December 25, 1851 (“I go forth to see the sun set. Who knows how it will set, even half an hour beforehand ?”)
December 25, 1858 ("Walden at length skimmed over last night, i. e. the two holes that remained open. One was very near the middle and deepest part, the other between that and the railroad.”)
December 26, 1850 ("Walden not yet more than half frozen over.")
December 26, 1853 ("Walden still open.. . . the only pond hereabouts that is open.")December 26, 1860 ("Owls are common here in winter; hawks, scarce")
December 27, 1852 ("Not a particle of ice in Walden to-day. Paddled across it.)
December 27, 1856 "Walden is still open in one place of considerable extent, just off the east cape of long southern bay.");.
December 27, 1857 ("Walden is almost entirely skimmed over. It will probably be completely frozen over to-night")
December 28, 1856 ("Walden completely frozen over again last night.")
December 29, 1855 ("Am surprised to find eight or ten acres of Walden still open,. . .It must be owing to the wind partly.")
December 29, 1856 (“We must go out and re-ally ourselves to Nature every day.")
December 30, 1853 ("The pond not yet frozen entirely over; about six acres open, the wind blew so hard last night. ");
December 30, 1855 ("There was yesterday eight or ten acres of open water at the west end of Walden, where is depth and breadth combined");
December 31, 1850 ("Walden pond has frozen over since I was there last.")
December 31, 1853 ("Walden froze completely over last night. It is, however, all snow ice, as it froze while it was snowing hard, and it looks like frozen yeast somewhat.”)
December 31, 1859 ("(do I ever see a small hawk in winter ?)")January 1, 1855 ("We see the pink light on the snow within a rod of us. The shadow of the bridges on the snow is a dark indigo blue.")
January 20, 1852 ("To see the sun rise or go down every day would preserve us sane forever.”
January 22, 1852 ("I see, one mile to two miles distant on all sides from my window, the woods, which still encircle our New England towns. . . . How long will these last?")
January 31, 1859 ("Pink light reflected from the low, flat snowy surfaces amid the ice on the meadows, just before sunset, is a constant phenomenon these clear winter days")
February 9, 1858 ("The stairs of the old back part are white pine or spruce, each the half of a square log; those of the cellar in front, oak, of the same form.")
February 13, 1860 ("It is surprising what a variety of distinct colors the winter can show us."
February 16, 1854 ("See two large hawks circling over the woods by Walden, hunting, — the first I have seen since December 15th.")
February 17, 1857 ("To the old Hunt house. . . .The rear part has a wholly oak frame, while the front is pine.")
December 20, 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, December 20
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
