It still rains. The water is over the road at Flint's Bridge, so that there is now only the Boston road open. This flood tempts men to build boats. The villagers walk the streets and talk of the great rise of waters.
A strange dog accompanies us today, a hunting dog, gyrating about us at a great distance, beating every bush and barking at the birds, with great speed, gyrating his tail too all the while. Our dog sends off a partridge with a whir, far across the open field and the river, like a winged bullet. This stranger dog has good habits for a companion, he keeps so distant. He never trusts himself near us, though he accompanies us for miles.
It takes this day to clear up gradually; successive sun-showers still make it foul. But the sun feels very warm after the storm. This makes five stormy days. Sunday, Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday, Thursday.
The water, slightly agitated, looks bright when the sun shines.
See four hawks soaring high in the heavens over the Swamp Bridge Brook. At first saw three; said to myself there must be four, and found the fourth.
From Cliffs see much snow on the mountains.
The pine on Lee's shore of the pond, seen against the light water this cloudy weather from part way down the Cliff, is an agreeable object to me. When the outline and texture of white pine is thus seen against the water or the sky, it is an affecting sight.
The shadow of the Cliff on Conantum in the semi-sunshine, with indistinct edge and a reddish tinge from bushes here and there!
What is that grass with a yellow blossom which I find now on the Cliff?
The early sedge (Carex marginata) grows on the side of the Cliffs in little tufts with small yellow blossoms, i. e. with yellow anthers, low in the grass.
I want things to be incredible, — too good to appear true.
See four hawks soaring high in the heavens over the Swamp Bridge Brook. At first saw three; said to myself there must be four, and found the fourth.
From Cliffs see much snow on the mountains.
The pine on Lee's shore of the pond, seen against the light water this cloudy weather from part way down the Cliff, is an agreeable object to me. When the outline and texture of white pine is thus seen against the water or the sky, it is an affecting sight.
The shadow of the Cliff on Conantum in the semi-sunshine, with indistinct edge and a reddish tinge from bushes here and there!
What is that grass with a yellow blossom which I find now on the Cliff?
The early sedge (Carex marginata) grows on the side of the Cliffs in little tufts with small yellow blossoms, i. e. with yellow anthers, low in the grass.
I want things to be incredible, — too good to appear true.
C. says, "After you have been to the post-office once you are damned!" But I answer that it depends somewhat on whether you get a letter or not. If you should not get a letter there is some hope for you.
If you would be wise, learn science and then forget it.
A boat on the river, on the white surface, looks black, and the boatman like Charon.
I see swarms of gnats in the air.
.
It is the contrast between sunshine and storm that is most pleasing; the gleams of sunshine in the midst of the storm are the most memorable.
It is pleasant sometimes looking thirty or forty rods into an open wood, where the trunks of the trees are plainly seen, and patches of soft light on the ground.
The maples in the side swamp near Well Meadow are arranged nearly in a circle in the water.
Saw that winkle-like fungus, fresh and green, covering an oak stump to-day with concentric marks, spirally arranged, sometimes in a circle, very handsome. I love this apparent exuberance of nature.
.
On the most retired, the wildest and craggiest, most precipitous hillside you will find some old road by which the teamster carted off the wood.
The hylas peep now in full chorus, but are silent on my side of the pond.
The water at 6 P. M. is one and a half inches higher than in the morning , i.e. seven inches above the iron truss.
At 10 P. M. the northern lights are flashing, like some grain sown broadcast in the sky.
If you would be wise, learn science and then forget it.
A boat on the river, on the white surface, looks black, and the boatman like Charon.
I see swarms of gnats in the air.
.
It is the contrast between sunshine and storm that is most pleasing; the gleams of sunshine in the midst of the storm are the most memorable.
It is pleasant sometimes looking thirty or forty rods into an open wood, where the trunks of the trees are plainly seen, and patches of soft light on the ground.
The maples in the side swamp near Well Meadow are arranged nearly in a circle in the water.
Saw that winkle-like fungus, fresh and green, covering an oak stump to-day with concentric marks, spirally arranged, sometimes in a circle, very handsome. I love this apparent exuberance of nature.
.
On the most retired, the wildest and craggiest, most precipitous hillside you will find some old road by which the teamster carted off the wood.
The hylas peep now in full chorus, but are silent on my side of the pond.
The water at 6 P. M. is one and a half inches higher than in the morning , i.e. seven inches above the iron truss.
The strain of the red-wing on the willow spray over the water to-night is liquid, bubbling, watery, almost like a tinkling fountain, in perfect harmony with the meadow. It oozes, trickles, tinkles, bubbles from his throat, -bob-y-lee-e-e, and then its shrill, fine whistle.
At 10 P. M. the northern lights are flashing, like some grain sown broadcast in the sky.
I hear the hylas peep on the meadow as I stand at the door.
Mr. Holbrook tells me he heard and saw martins (?) yesterday. [Storm ends this evening.]
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, April 22, 1852
It still rains. The water is over the road at Flint's Bridge, so that there is now only the Boston road open. See April 22, 1856 (“These rain-storms -- this is the third day of one -- characterize 'the season, and belong rather to winter than to summer.”)
Our dog sends off a partridge with a whir, far across the open field and the river, like a winged bullet. See April 22,1859 (" Scare up partridges feeding about the green springy places under the edge of hills. See them skim or scale away for forty rods along and upward to the woods. . .dodging to right and left and avoiding the twigs, yet without once flapping the wings after having launched themselves.")See also December 14, 1855 ("They shoot off swift and steady, showing their dark-edged tails, almost like a cannon-ball. “)
The shadow of the Cliff on Conantum in the semi-sunshine, . . . See May 16, 1854 ("I notice the dark shadow of Conantum Cliff from the water. Why do I notice it at this season particularly? Is it because a shadow is more grateful to the sight now that warm weather has come? Or is there anything in the contrast between the rich green of the grass and the cool dark shade?”)
The early sedge (Carex marginata) grows on the side of the Cliffs in little tufts with small yellow blossoms, i. e. with yellow anthers, low in the grass. See April 10, 1855 ('As for the early sedge, who would think of looking for a flower of any kind in those dry tufts whose withered blades almost entirely conceal the springing green ones? I patiently examined one tuft after another, higher and higher up the rocky hill, till at last I found one little yellow spike low in the grass which shed its pollen on my finger"):
When the outline and texture of white pine is thus seen against the water or the sky, it is an affecting sight. April 22, 1852 See April 24, 1853 ("See a pretty islet in the Creek Pond on the east side covered with white pine wood, appearing from the south as if the trees grew out of the water. . . .This gives the isle a peculiarly light and floating appearance.")
I see swarms of gnats in the air. See note to April 22, 1860 ("And in one place we disturb great clouds of the little fuzzy gnats that were resting on the bushes.")
Mr. Holbrook tells me he heard and saw martins (?) yesterday. [Storm ends this evening.]
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, April 22, 1852
It still rains. The water is over the road at Flint's Bridge, so that there is now only the Boston road open. See April 22, 1856 (“These rain-storms -- this is the third day of one -- characterize 'the season, and belong rather to winter than to summer.”)
Our dog sends off a partridge with a whir, far across the open field and the river, like a winged bullet. See April 22,1859 (" Scare up partridges feeding about the green springy places under the edge of hills. See them skim or scale away for forty rods along and upward to the woods. . .dodging to right and left and avoiding the twigs, yet without once flapping the wings after having launched themselves.")See also December 14, 1855 ("They shoot off swift and steady, showing their dark-edged tails, almost like a cannon-ball. “)
The shadow of the Cliff on Conantum in the semi-sunshine, . . . See May 16, 1854 ("I notice the dark shadow of Conantum Cliff from the water. Why do I notice it at this season particularly? Is it because a shadow is more grateful to the sight now that warm weather has come? Or is there anything in the contrast between the rich green of the grass and the cool dark shade?”)
The early sedge (Carex marginata) grows on the side of the Cliffs in little tufts with small yellow blossoms, i. e. with yellow anthers, low in the grass. See April 10, 1855 ('As for the early sedge, who would think of looking for a flower of any kind in those dry tufts whose withered blades almost entirely conceal the springing green ones? I patiently examined one tuft after another, higher and higher up the rocky hill, till at last I found one little yellow spike low in the grass which shed its pollen on my finger"):
The strain of the red-wing on the willow spray over the water to-night is liquid,,bubbling, watery, almost like a tinkling fountain,. . ., and then its shrill, fine whistle. See April 30, 1855 (" Red-wing blackbirds now fly in large flocks, covering the tops of trees—willows, maples, apples, or oaks—like a black fruit , and keep up an incessant gurgling and whistling, — all for some purpose; what is it?")
See four hawks soaring high in the heavens. See April 22, 1860 ("See now hen-hawks, a pair, soaring high as for pleasure, circling ever further and further away, as if it were midsummer. The peculiar flight of a hawk thus fetches the year about. I do not see it soar in this serene and leisurely manner very early in the season, methinks. ")
I see swarms of gnats in the air. See note to April 22, 1860 ("And in one place we disturb great clouds of the little fuzzy gnats that were resting on the bushes.")
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