Down the railroad. Cloudy but springlike.

March 9.

A warm spring rain in the night. 

3 P.M. - Down the railroad. 

Cloudy but springlike. The earth is now half bare. Yesterday all was tight as a stricture on my breast; to-day all is loosened. It is a different element from what it was. Though cloudy, the air excites me. When the frost comes out of the ground, there is a corresponding thawing of the man. 


 These March winds, which make the woods roar and fill the world with life and bustle, appear to wake up the trees out of their winter sleep and excite the sap to flow. I have no doubt they serve some such use, as well as to hasten the evaporation of the snow and water. I hear and see bluebirds, come with the warm wind. I am cheered by the sound of running water now down the wooden troughs on each side the cut. Already these puddles on the railroad, relflecting pinewoods, remind me of summer lakes. Again it rains, and I turn about. The sound of water falling on rocks and of air falling on trees are very much alike. The pond is covered with puddles. I see one farmer trimming his tree.


H. D. Thoreau, Journal, March 9, 1852

These March winds, which make the woods roar and fill the world with life and bustle, appear to wake up the trees out of their winter sleep and excite the sap to flow. See March 9, 1860 ("You incline to walk now along the south side of hills which will shelter you from the blustering northwest and north winds"); See also March 6, 1855 ("Still stronger wind, shaking the house, and rather cool. This the third day of wind."); March 18, 1854 ("The white caps of the waves on the flooded meadow, seen from the window, are a rare and exciting spectacle");