A Book of the Seasons: the Kingfisher

 

I would make a chart of our life,

know why just this circle of creatures completes the world.

Henry Thoreau, April 18, 1852

A kingfisher flies

in the ricochet manner

across the water.

 April 10, 1859 

Its motions when on wing consist of a Series of flaps,

about five or six in number, followed by a direct glide,

without any apparent undulation.

It moves in the same way when flying closely over the water. 

If, in the course of such excursions, the bird passes over a small pool,

it suddenly checks itself in its career, poises itself in the air,

like a Sparrow Hawk or Kestril, and inspects the water beneath,

to discover whether there may be fishes in it suitable to its taste.

Should it find this to be the case, it continues poised for a few seconds,

dashes spirally headlong into the water, seizes a fish,

and alights on the nearest tree or stump,

where it swallows its prey in a moment . . .

It is not unusual to hear the hard, rapid, rattling notes of our Kingfisher,

even amongst the murmuring cascades of our higher mountains.

When the bird is found in such sequestered situations,

well may the angler be assured that trout is abundant. 

~ JJ Audubon

April 1. A kingfisher seen and heard. April 1, 1860

April 10.   See a kingfisher flying very low, in the ricochet manner, across the water.  April 10, 1859 

April 11. Saw a kingfisher on a tree over the water. Does not its arrival mark some new movement in its finny prey? He is the bright buoy that betrays it!  April 11, 1856

April 15. See and hear a kingfisher—do they not come with the smooth waters of April? — hurrying over the meadow as if on urgent business.  April 15, 1855

April 17. See several kingfishers.  April 17, 1858

April 22. The bluish band on the breast of the kingfisher leaves the pure white beneath in the form of a heart.   April 22, 1855

April 23.  A kingfisher with his crack, — cr-r-r-rack.  April 23, 1854

April 24. The kingfisher flies with a crack cr-r-r-ack and a limping or flitting flight from tree to tree before us, and finally, after a third of a mile, circles round to our rear. He sits rather low over the water. Now that he has come I suppose that the fishes on which he preys rise within reach. April 24, 1854

April 25. Saw the first kingfisher, and heard his most unmusical note. April 25, 1852

April 30. Hear a kingfisher at Goose Pond. April 30, 1857

May 10. Above the railroad bridge I see a kingfisher twice sustain himself in one place, about forty feet above the meadow, by a rapid motion of his wings, somewhat like a devil's-needle, not progressing an inch, apparently over a fish.  May 10, 1854

June 6.   Hear of a kingfisher's nest, just found in a sand bank behind Abner Buttrick's, with six fresh eggs, of which I have one. The boy said it was six or seven feet deep in the bank. June 6, 1859

June 9. The air is now full of shad-flies, and there is an incessant sound made by the fishes leaping for their evening meal, . . .Meanwhile the kingfishers are on the lookout for the fishes as they rise. I see one dive in the twilight and go off uttering his cr-r-ack, cr-r-rack. June 9, 1854

June 12. Scare a kingfisher on a bough over Walden. As he flies off, he hovers two or three times thirty or forty feet above the pond, and at last dives and apparently catches a fish, with which he flies off low over the water to a tree. June 12, 1854

June 16.  Examined a kingfisher's nest, — though there is a slight doubt if I found the spot. It was formed singularly like that of the bank swallow, i. e. flat-elliptical, some eight inches, as I remember, in the - largest diameter, and located just like a swallow's, in a sand-bank, some twenty inches below the surface. Could feel nothing in it, but it may have been removed. Have an egg from this. June 16, 1859

July 22. Here is a kingfisher frequenting the Corner Brook Pond. They find out such places. July 22, 1852

June 25. I observe many kingfishers at Walden and on the Assabet, very few on the dark and muddy South Branch. June 25, 1854 

July 28. Heard a kingfisher, which had been hovering over the river, plunge forty rods off.  July 28, 1858

August 6. The kingfisher is seen hovering steadily over one spot, or hurrying away with a small fish in his mouth, sounding his alarum nevertheless. August 6, 1858

August 22.  A kingfisher, with his white collar, darted across the river and alighted on an oak. August 22, 1853

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau The Kingfisher

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 ©  2009-2026

https://tinyurl.com/hdt-kingfisher

 

A Book of the Seasons: The White-Headed Eagle

 I would make a chart of our life,

know why just this circle of creatures

completes the world.

Henry Thoreau,

April 18, 1852

White-headed eagle

edgewise like a black ripple

concealed in the sky.

We who live this plodding life here below

never know how many eagles fly over us.

April 23, 1854

March 29. Crows, by their swift flight and scolding, reveal to me some large bird of prey hovering over the river. I perceive by its markings and size that it cannot be a hen-hawk, and now it settles on the topmost branch of a white maple, bending it down. Its great armed and feathered legs dangle helplessly in the air for a moment, as if feeling for the perch, while its body is tipping this way and that. It sits there facing me some forty or fifty rods off, pluming itself but keeping a good lookout. At this distance and in this light, it appears to have a rusty-brown head and breast and is white beneath, with rusty leg feathers and a tail black beneath. When it flies again it is principally black varied with white, regular light spots on its tail and wings beneath, but chiefly a conspicuous white space on the forward part of the back; also some of the upper side of the tail or tail coverts is white. It has broad, ragged, buzzard-like wings, and from the white of its back, as well as the shape and shortness of its wings and its not having a gull-like body, I think it must be an eagle. It lets itself down with its legs somewhat helplessly dangling, as if feeling for something on the bare meadow, and then gradually flies away, soaring and circling higher and higher until lost in the downy clouds. This lofty soaring is at least a grand recreation, as if it were nourishing sublime ideas. I should like to know why it soars higher and higher so, whether its thoughts are really turned to earth, for it seems to be more nobly as well as highly employed than the laborers ditching in the meadow beneath or any others of my fellow townsmen. March 29, 1858

April 3. Returning, when off the hill am attracted by the noise of crows, which betray to me a very large hawk, large enough for an eagle, sitting on a maple beneath them. Now and then they dive at him, and at last he sails away low round the hill, as if hunting. April 3, 1855

April 6. As I am going along the Corner Road by the meadow mouse brook, hear and see, a quarter of a mile north west, on those conspicuous white oaks near the river in Hubbard’s second grove, the crows buffeting some intruder. The crows had betrayed to me some large bird of the hawk kind which they were buffeting. I suspected it before I looked carefully. I saw several crows on the oaks, and also what looked to my naked eye like a cluster of the palest and most withered oak  leaves with a black base about as big as a crow. Looking with my glass, I saw that it was a great bird. The crows sat about a rod off, higher up, while another crow was occasionally diving at him, and all were cawing. The great bird was just starting. It was chiefly a dirty white with great broad wings with black tips and black on other parts, giving it the appearance of dirty white, barred with black.  I am not sure whether it was a white-headed eagle or a fish hawk.  There appeared much more white than belongs to either, and more black than the fish hawk has. It rose and wheeled, flapping several times, till it got under way; then, with its rear to me, presenting the least surface, it moved off steadily in its orbit over the woods northwest, with the slightest possible undulation of its wings, — a noble planetary motion, like Saturn with its ring seen edgewise.  It is so rare that we see a large body self sustained in the air. While crows sat still and silent and confessed their lord.  Through my glass I saw the outlines of this sphere against the sky, trembling with life and power as it skimmed the topmost twigs of the wood toward some more solitary oak amid the meadows.  To my naked eye it showed only so much black as a crow in its talons might. Was it not the white-headed eagle in the state when it is called the sea eagle? Perhaps its neck-feathers were erected. April 6, 1856

April 8.  Saw a large bird sail along over the edge of Wheeler's cranberry meadow just below Fair Haven, which I at first thought a gull, but with my glass found it was a hawk and had a perfectly white head and tail and broad or blackish wings. It sailed and circled along over the low cliff, and the crows dived at it in the field of my glass, and I saw it well, both above and beneath, as it turned, and then it passed off to hover over the Cliffs at a greater height. It was undoubtedly a white-headed eagle. It was to the eye but a large hawk.   April 8, 1854

April 23. P. M. — To Lee's Cliff on foot. See my white-headed eagle again, first at the same place, the outlet of Fair Haven Pond. It is a fine sight, he is mainly — i.e. his wings and body — so black against the sky, and they contrast so strongly with his white head and tail. He first flies low over the water; then rises gradually and circles westward toward White Pond. Lying on the ground with my glass, I watch him very easily, and by turns he gives me all possible views of himself. Now I see him edgewise like a black ripple in the air, his white head still as ever turned to earth, and now he turns his under side to me, and I behold the full breadth of his broad black wings, some what ragged at the edges. 

When I observe him edgewise I notice that the tips of his wings curve upward slightly. He rises very high at last, till I almost lose him in the clouds, circling or rather looping along westward, high over river and wood and farm, effectually concealed in the sky. We who live this plodding life here below never know how many eagles fly over us. I think I have got the worth of my glass now that it has revealed to me the white-headed eagle.  April 23, 1854. [See March 13, 1854 ("Bought a telescope to-day for eight dollars.")]

July 26. The note of the white-throated sparrow, a very inspiriting but almost wiry sound, was the first heard in the morning, and with this all the woods rang. This was the prevailing bird in the northern part of Maine . . . We soon passed the island where I had camped four years before, and I recognized the very spot . . . As we were pushing away again, a white-headed eagle sailed over our heads.  The Maine Woods July 26, 1857

July 31.  Soon afterward a white-headed eagle sailed down the stream before us. We drove him several miles, while we were looking for a good place to camp, for we expected to be overtaken by a shower, — and still we could distinguish him by his white tail, sailing away from time to time from some tree by the shore still farther down the stream    The Maine Woods July 31, 1857

August 22. At Baker Farm a large bird rose up near us, which at first I took for a hen-hawk, but it appeared larger. It screamed the same, and finally soared higher and higher till it was almost lost amid the clouds, or could scarcely be distinguished except when it was seen against some white and glowing cumulus. I think it was at least half a mile high, or three quarters, and yet I distinctly heard it scream up there each time it came round, and with my glass saw its head steadily bent toward the ground, looking for its prey. Its head, seen in a proper light, was distinctly whitish, and I suspect it may have been a white headed eagle. It did not once flap its wings up there, as it circled and sailed, though I watched it for nearly a mile. How fit that these soaring birds should be haughty and fierce, not like doves to our race!   August 22, 1858

August 25. The approaching storm . . . came on rapidly, with vivid lightning striking the northern earth and heavy thunder following. Just before, and in the shadow of, the cloud, I saw, advancing majestically with wide circles over the meadowy flood, a fish hawk and, apparently, a black eagle (maybe a young white-head). The first, with slender curved wings and silvery breast, four or five hundred feet high, watching the water while he circled slowly southwesterly. What a vision that could detect a fish at that distance! The latter, with broad black wings and broad tail, thus: hovered only about one hundred feet high; evidently a different species, and what else but an eagle? They soon disappeared southwest, cutting off a bend. The thunder-shower passed off to the southeast. August 25, 1856

September 6.  Saw, sailing over Mason Village about 10 A. M., a white-headed and white-tailed eagle with black wings, —  a grand sight. September 6, 1852

September 16. Now I see a large one perchance an eagle, I say to myself! – down in the valley, circling and circling, higher and wider. This way he comes. How beautiful does he repose on the air, in the moment when he is directly over you, and you see the form and texture of his wings! How light he must make himself, how much earthy heaviness expel, before he can thus soar and sail! September 16, 1852

October 26. My loftiest thought is somewhat like an eagle that suddenly comes into the field of view, suggesting great things and thrilling the beholder, as if it were bound hitherward with a message for me; but it comes no nearer, but circles and soars away, growing dimmer, disappointing me, till it is lost behind a cliff or a cloud.  October 26, 1857

A Book of the Seasons,   by Henry Thoreau, The White-headed Eagle

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 ©  2009-2026

A Book of the Seasons, The Cherry-Bird (cedar waxwing)

 

I would make a chart of our life,

know why just this circle of creatures completes the world.

Observe all kinds of coincidences,

as what kinds of birds come with what flowers.

Henry Thoreau

April 18, 1852

The mountain-ash tree

 and note of the cherry-birds 

coming and going. 

September 22, 1859

The Cherry-Bird 

See how artfully the seed of a cherry is placed 

in order that a bird may be compelled to transport it. 

It is placed in the very midst of a tempting pericarp, 

so that the creature that would devour a cherry

 must take a stone into its mouth.

The bird is bribed with the pericarp 

to take the stone with it and do this little service for Nature. 

Thus a bird's wing is added to the cherry-stone which was wingless, 

and it does not wait for winds to transport it.

September 1, 1860

March 14.  I hear that many cherry-birds have been seen.  March 14, 1858

March 20.  On that same tree by Conant's orchard, I see a flock of cherry-birds with that alert, chieftain-like look, and hear their seringo note, as if made by their swift flight through the air. They have been seen a week or two.  March 20, 1858 

May 14. Flood tells me he saw cherry-birds on the 12th of April in Monroe's garden. May 14, 1856

May 18.   In the yellow birch and ash swamp west of big yellow birch, I hear the fine note of cherry-birds, much like that of young partridges, and see them on the ash trees.   May 18, 1857

May 26.   Cherry-birds.  May 26, 1859

May 26.   Cherry-birds.  May 26, 1860

May 29.   Cherry-birds on the apple trees. May 29, 1856

May 30.   Cherry-bird on a cherry; also pecking at the apple blossoms.  May 30, 1855   

June 2.  Cherry-birds are the only ones I see in flocks now. I can tell them afar by their peculiar fine springy note. June 2, 1853

June 6.  Still see cherry-birds in flocks of five or six.  June 6, 1856 

June 9.  For a day or two I have heard the fine seringo note of the cherry-birds, and seen them flying past, the only (?) birds, methinks, that I see in small flocks now, except swallows . . . It is twilight . . . Chimney and bank swallows are still hovering over the river, and cherry-birds fly past. June 9, 1854

June 14.  Mr. Bacon thinks that cherry-birds are abundant where cankerworms are. June 14, 1854

June 14.   A cherry-bird’s nest and two eggs in an apple tree fourteen feet from ground. One egg, round black spots and a few oblong, about equally but thinly dispersed over the whole, and a dim, internal, purplish tinge about the large end. It is difficult to see anything of the bird, for she steals away early, and you may neither see nor hear anything of her while examining the nest, and so think it deserted. June 14, 1855

June 16. Cherry-birds numerous, the bold, combative-looking fellows, - etc., etc . . .The note of the cherry-bird is fine and ringing, but peculiar and very noticeable. With its crest it is a resolute and combative-looking bird. June 16, 1854

June 16.  The cherry-bird’s egg was a satin color, or very pale slate, with an internal or what would be called black-and-blue ring about large end.  June 16, 1855

June 21.  Cherry-birds. I have not seen, though I think I have heard them before, — their fine seringo note, like a vibrating spring in the air. They are a handsome bird, with their crest and chestnut breasts. There is no keeping the run of their goings and comings, but they will be ready for the cherries when they shall be ripe. June 21, 1852

June 21.  Still see cherry-birds in flock. June 21, 1853

June 25.  An unusual quantity of amelanchier berries . . . I never saw nearly so many before. It is a very agreeable surprise. I hear the cherry-birds and others about me, no doubt attracted by this fruit. June 25, 1853

June 29. The cherry-bird's note is like the fine peep of young partridges or woodcocks. June 29, 1854

July 5.  It is growing warm again, but the warmth is different from that we have had. We lie in the shade of locust trees. Haymakers go by in a hay-rigging. I am reminded of berrying. I scent the sweet-fern and the dead or dry pine leaves. Cherry-birds alight on a neighboring tree. The warmth is something more normal and steady, ripening fruits . . . It begins to be such weather as when people go a-huckle-berrying. Nature offers fruits now as well as flowers. We have become accustomed to the summer. It has acquired a certain eternity. July 5, 1852

July 10.  Cherry-bird commonly heard . . . The singing birds at present are: —Rural: Song sparrow, seringos, flicker, kingbird, goldfinch, link of bobolink, cherry-bird.  July 10, 1854

July 19. The cherry-birds are making their seringo sound as they flit past.  July 19,1851

July 28.  Cherry-bird common.  July 28, 1854

August 12.  Cherry-bird heard.  August 12, 1854

August 14.   The fine note of the cherry-bird, pretty often.  August 14, 1858 

August 19. Saw cherry-birds flying lower over Heywood meadow like swallows, apparently for flies, and heard them, cricket-like.  August 19, 1854

August 29. Many birds nowadays resort to the wild black cherry tree, as here front of Tarbell's. I see them continually coming and going directly from and to a great distance, — cherry birds, robins, and kingbirds. August 29, 1854 

August 26.   I saw a cherry-bird peck from the middle of its upright (vertical) web on a bush one of those large (I think yellow-marked) spiders within a rod of me. It dropped to the ground, and then the bird picked it up. It left a hole or rent in the middle of the web. The spider cunningly spreads his net for feebler insects, and then takes up his post in the centre, but perchance a passing bird picks him from his conspicuous station.  August 26, 1859 

September 1. In the sprout-land behind Britton's Camp, I came to a small black cherry full of fruit, and then, for the first time for a long while, I see and hear cherry-birds — their shrill and fine seringo — and the note of robins, which of late are scarce. We sit near the tree and listen to the now unusual sounds of these birds, and from time to time one or two come dashing from out the sky toward this tree, till, seeing us, they whirl, disappointed, and perhaps alight on some neighboring twigs and wait till we are gone. The cherry-birds and robins seem to know the locality of every wild cherry in the town. You are as sure to find them on them now, as bees and butterflies on the thistles. If we stay long, they go off with a fling, to some other cherry tree, which they know of but we do not.  September 1, 1859

 

September 10. Cherry-birds common. September 10, 1854

September 22.  The mountain-ash trees are alive with robins and cherry-birds nowadays, stripping them of their fruit (in drooping clusters). It is exceedingly bitter and austere to my taste. Such a tree fills the air with the watch-spring-like note of the cherry-birds coming and going. September 22, 1859

October  5.  See a cherry-bird.  October 5, 1857

 

December 22. In a (apparently kingbird's?) nest on this island I saw three cherry-stones, as if it had carried home this fruit to its young. It was, outside, of gnaphalium and saddled on a low limb. Could it have been a cherry-bird? December 22, 1859

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Cherry-Bird (cedar waxwing)

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 ©  2009-2026

A Book of Seasons, the Cowslip in Early Spring

 

I would make a chart of our life,

know why just this circle of creatures

 completes the world.

Henry Thoreau, April 18, 1852

It takes several years' faithful search

to learn where to look

for the earliest flowers. 

February 28, 1857

An arctic voyage 

was this in which I find two 

cowslips in full bloom.

April 8, 1856

March 5.  The cowslip there [Well Meadow] is very prominently flower-budded, lifting its yellow flower-buds above water in one place. The leaves are quite inconspicuous when they first come up, being rolled up tightly. March 5, 1859

March 14.  The cowslip in pitcher has fairly blossomed to-day. March 14, 1859 

March 24.  It is too cold to think of those signs of spring which I find recorded under this date last year. The earliest signs of spring in vegetation noticed thus far are the maple sap, the willow catkins, grass on south banks, and perhaps cowslip in sheltered places. March 24, 1855 

March 26.  The buds of the cowslip are very yellow, and the plant is not observed a rod off, it lies so low and close to the surface of the water in the meadow. It may bloom and wither there several times before villagers discover or suspect it. March 26, 1857 

March 27.  Am surprised to see the cowslip so forward, showing so much green, in E. Hubbard’s Swamp, in the brook, where it is sheltered from the winds. The already expanded leaves rise above the water. If this is a spring growth, it is the most forward herb I have seen.  March 27, 1855 

April 2.  In the warm recess at the head of Well Meadow, which makes up on the northeast side of Fair Haven, I find many evidences of spring . . . The cowslip appears to be coming next to it [the skunk cabbage]. Its buds are quite yellowish and half an inch, almost, in diameter. April 2, 1856

April 3.  The white maple buds on the south side of some trees have slightly opened, so that I can peep into their cavities and detect the stamens. They will probably come next to the skunk-cabbage this year, if the cowslip does not. April 3, 1856

April 8.  There, in that slow, muddy brook near the head of Well Meadow, within a few rods of its source, where it winds amid the alders, which shelter the plants some what, while they are open enough now to admit the sun, I find two cowslips in full bloom, shedding pollen; and they may have opened two or three days ago; for I saw many conspicuous buds here on the 2d which now I do not see. Have they not been eaten off? Do we not often lose the earliest flowers thus? A little more, or if the river had risen as high as frequently, they would have been submerged. What an arctic voyage was this in which I find cowslips, the pond and river still frozen over for the most part as far down as Cardinal Shore! April 8, 1856

April 9.  The cowslips are well out, – the first conspicuous herbaceous flower, for the cabbage is concealed in its spathe. April 9, 1853

April 11.  I might have said on the 8th: Behold that little  hemisphere of green in the black and sluggish brook, amid the open alders, sheltered under a russet tussock. It is the cowslips’ forward green. Look narrowly, explore the warmest nooks; here are buds larger yet, showing more yellow, and yonder see two full-blown yellow disks, close to the water’s edge. Methinks they dip into it when the frosty nights come. Have not these been mistaken for dandelions? April 11, 1856

April 12.   Cowslip will apparently open in two days at Hubbard’s Close. April 12, 1855

April 13.  Many cowslip buds show a little yellow, but they will not open there [Second Division] for two or three days. The road is paved with solid ice there.  April 13, 1855

April 13.  Still no cowslips nor saxifrage. April 13, 1856 

April 29.  At the Second Division Brook the cowslip is in blossom. April 29, 1852

May 4. The cowslip's is a vigorous growth and makes at present the most show of any flower. Leaf, stem, bud, and flower are all very handsome in their place and season. It has no scent, but speaks wholly to the eye. The petals are covered at base with a transparent, dewy (dew-like), apparently golden nectar. Better for yellows than for greens. May 4, 1852

See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Earliest Flower 

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Cowslip in Early Spring

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 ©  2009-2026

A Book of the Seasons: March Moonlight

 

Beyond the lone graveyard, 

his footsteps shining like silver 

between me and the moon. 

I see a promise 

or sign of spring 

in the way the moon 

is reflected from the snow.

Henry Thoreau, March 7, 1852

March 6.   A still and mild moonlight night and people walking about the streets.  March 6, 1860

March 7.  At 9 o'clock P.M to the woods by the full moon. It is rather mild to-night. I can walk without gloves. There is no snow on the trees. The ground is thinly covered with a crusted snow, through which the dead grass and weeds appear, telling the nearness of spring.

Though the snow-crust between me and the moon reflects the moon at a distance, westward it is but a dusky white; only where it is heaped up into a drift, or a steep bank occurs, is the moonlight reflected to me as from a phosphorescent place.

 

I distinguish thus large tracts an eighth of a mile distant in the west, where a steep bank sloping toward the moon occurs, that glow with a white, phosphorescent light, while all the surrounding snow is comparatively dark, as if shaded by the woods. I look to see if these white tracts in the distant fields correspond to openings in the woods, and find that they are places where the crystal mirrors are so disposed as to reflect the moon's light to me. 

Going through the high field beyond the lone graveyard, I see the track of a boy's sled before me, and his footsteps shining like silver between me and the moon. I forget that the sun shone on them as if I had reached the region of perpetual twilight, and their sport appears more significant. For what a man does abroad by night is more spiritual, less animal or vegetable.

As I look down the railroad, standing on the west brink of the Deep Cut, I see a promise or sign of spring in the way the moon is reflected from the snow covered west slope – a sort of misty light as if a fine vapor were rising from it. 

The stillness is more impressive than any sound – the moon, the stars, the trees, the snow – a monumental stillness, whose void must be supplied by thought. 

The moon appears to have waned a little, yet, with this snow on the ground, I can plainly see the words I write. What a contrast there may be between this moon and the next ! March 7, 1852

March 26. It was like the light reflected from the mountain ridges within the shaded portion of the moon, forerunner and herald of the spring. March 26, 1857

See also:

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, April Moonlight

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, May Moonlight

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, June Moonlight

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, July Moonlight

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, August Moonlight

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, September Moonlight

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, October Moonlight

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, November Moonlight

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, December  Moonlight

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, January  Moonlight

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, February Moonlight

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, March Moonlight

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 ©  2009-2026

https://tinyurl.com/hdt-marchmoon