This the first skating.

December 18                       

December 18, 2022

Very cold, windy day. The crust of the slight snow covered in some woods with the scales (bird-shaped) of the birch, and their seeds.

Loring's Pond beautifully frozen. So polished a surface, I mistook many parts of it for water. Cracked into large squares like the faces of a reflector, it was so exquisitely polished that the sky and scudding dun-colored clouds, with mother-o'-pearl tints, were reflected in it as in the calmest water. I slid over it with a little misgiving, mistaking the ice before me for water. This is the first skating.

Still the little ruby-crowned birds about.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, December 18, 1852

Snow covered in some woods with the scales (bird-shaped) of the birch.  See December 4, 1854 (“Already the bird-like birch scales dot the snow. ”);  December 4 1856 ("I see where the pretty brown bird-like birch scales and winged seeds have been blown into the numerous hollows of the thin crusted snow. So bountiful a table is spread for the birds. For how many thousand miles this grain is scattered over the earth."); December 6, 1859 ("No sooner has the snow fallen than, in the woods, it is seen to be dotted almost everywhere with the fine seeds and scales of birches and alders, — no doubt an ever-accessible food to numerous birds and perhaps mice"); December 30, 1855 (“For a few days I have noticed the snow sprinkled with alder and birch scales.”)

Loring's Pond beautifully frozen. See December 14, 1850 ("I walk on Loring's Pond to three or four islands there which I have never visited.")

This is the first skating. See  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, 1856 ("Skating is fairly begun. The river is generally frozen over, though it will bear quite across in very few places."); December 7, 1856 ("Take my first skate to Fair Haven Pond. “); 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 19, 1854 ("Skated a half-mile up Assabet and then to foot of Fair Haven Hill. This is the first tolerable skating.”); December 20, 1854 ( P. M. — Skate to Fair Haven.”)

Still the little ruby-crowned birds about.  The Lesser Redpoll, Fringilla linaria.  See November 13, 1852 ("Saw a flock of little passenger birds by Walden, busily pecking at the white birch catkins; about the size of a chickadee; distinct white bar on wings; most with dark pencilled breast, some with whitish ; forked tail ; bright chestnut or crimson (?) frontlet; yellowish shoulders or sack. When startled, they went off with a jingling sound somewhat like emptying a bag of coin. Is it the yellow redpoll? ");November 21, 1852 ("The commonest bird I see and hear nowadays is that little red crowned or fronted bird I described the 13th. I hear now more music from them. They have a mewing note which reminds me of a canary-bird. They make very good forerunners of winter. Is it not the ruby-crowned wren?"); December 2, 1852 ("the ruby-crowned wren (?) flies and mews over."); December 9, 1852 ("Those little ruby-crowned wrens (?) 1 still about. They suddenly dash away from this side to that in flocks, with a tumultuous note, half jingle, half rattle, like nuts shaken in a bag, or a bushel of nutshells, soon returning to the tree they had forsaken on some alarm. They are oftenest seen on the white birch, apparently feeding on its seeds, scattering the scales about."); January 2, 1853 ("Brown thinks my ruby wren may be the lesser redpoll linnet."); March 5, 1853 (“They have a sharp bill, black legs and claws, and a bright-crimson crown or frontlet, in the male reaching to the base of the bill, with, in his case, a delicate rose or carmine on the breast and rump. Though this is described by Nuttall as an occasional visitor in the winter, it has been the prevailing bird here this winter. ”) See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Lesser Redpoll

December 18. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, December 18

Surface so polished

I mistake it for water –

this the first skating.

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, This the first skating.

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 © 2009-2024

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The snow on Pine Hill reflects in the Pond.

December 16.

Observe the reflection of the snow on Pine Hill from Walden, extending far beyond the true limits of a reflection, quite across the pond; also, less obviously, of pines.  In the reflection the snow runs into the sky, overcast with thick scud.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, December 16, 1852

Reflection from Walden.  See  December 8, 1853 (“I saw from the peak the entire reflection of large white pines very distinctly against a clear white sky, though the actual tree was completely lost in night against the dark distant hillside.”);  and note to December 9, 1856 ("I perceive that more or other things are seen in the reflection than in the substance.”) See also December 15, 1856 ("The smooth serenity and the reflections of the pond, still alone free from ice.”); December 16, 1850 (“Walden is open still.”); December 24, 1858 ("two places in middle of Walden not frozen over yet, though it was quite cold last night! “); December 26, 1850 (“Walden not yet more than half frozen over.”); December 27, 1856 ("Walden is still open in one place of considerable extent. . . “);  January 3, 1853 (“Walden not yet frozen.”) 

December 16. See A Book of the Seasons, By Henry Thoreau, December 16 

Chestnuts

December 9

December 9, 2022

Those little ruby-crowned wrens (?) still about. They suddenly dash away from this side to that in flocks, with a tumultuous note, half jingle, half rattle, like nuts shaken in a bag, or a bushel of nutshells, soon returning to the tree they had forsaken on some alarm. They are oftenest seen on the white birch, apparently feeding on its seeds, scattering the scales about. 

A fresh dandelion.

The chestnuts are almost as plenty as ever, both in the fallen burs and out of them. There are more this year than the squirrels can consume. I pick three pints this afternoon, still plump and tender. I love to gather them, if only for the sense of the bountifulness of nature they give me.

A few petals of the witch-hazel still hold on. 

A man tells me he saw a violet to-day.

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

Those little ruby-crowned wrens (?) still about. See November 21, 1852 ("The commonest bird I see and hear nowadays is that little red crowned or fronted bird I described the 13th. I hear now more music from them. They have a mewing note which reminds me of a canary-bird. They make very good forerunners of winter."); December 19, 1854 ("A large flock of Fringilla linaria over the meadow. . . . Common as they are now, and were winter before last , I saw none last winter.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Lesser Redpoll

The chestnuts are almost as plenty as ever, both in the fallen burs and out of them. See November 28, 1856 ("Unexpectedly find many chestnuts in the burs which have fallen some time ago. ")

A few petals of the witch-hazel still hold on. See October 20, 1852 ("The witch-hazel is bare of all but flowers"); October 23, 1852 ("The sprays of the witch-hazel are sprinkled on the air, and recurved."); November 4, 1852 ("Saw witch-hazels out of bloom, some still fresh:); November 15, 1853 (" Take up a witch-hazel with still some fresh blossoms."); November 24, 1859 ("At Spanish Brook Path, the witch-hazel (one flower) lingers. "); December 19, 1850 ("The witch-hazel is covered with fruit and drops over gracefully like a willow, the yellow foundation of its flowers still remaining.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Witch-Hazel

A man tells me he saw a violet to-day. See December 12, 1852 ("Saw a violet on the C. Miles road where the bank had been burned in the fall.")

Indian Summer

December 7. 

Perhaps the warmest day yet. True Indian summer. The walker perspires. 

The shepherd's-purse is in full bloom; the andromeda not turned red.

Saw a pile of snow-fleas in a rut in the wood-path, six or seven inches long and three quarters of an inch high, to the eye exactly like powder, as if a sportsman had spilled it from his flask; and when a stick was passed through the living and skipping mass, each side of the furrow preserved its edge as in powder.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, December 7, 1852

The shepherd's-purse is in full bloom. See November 3, 1852 (“Shepherd's-purse abundant still in gardens.”); November 5, 1855 (“I see the shepherd’s-purse, hedge-mustard, and red clover, — November flowers. ”)

The andromeda not turned red. See December 21, 1856 ("How interesting and wholesome their color now! A broad level thick stuff, without a crevice in it, composed of the dull brown-red andromeda. Is it not the most uniform and deepest red that covers a large surface now?")

Saw a pile of snow-fleas in a rut in the wood-path to the eye exactly like powder, as if a sportsman had spilled it from his flask. See December 16, 1850 ("The snow everywhere is covered with snow-fleas like pepper. . . .They look like some powder which the hunter has spilled in the path. ") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Snow-flea

Cobwebs

December 6.

Though foul weather yesterday, this is the warmest and pleasantest day yet.

Cows are turned out to pasture again. 

On the Corner causeway fine cobwebs glimmer in the air, covering the willow twigs and the road, and sometimes stretching from side to side above my head. 

I see many little gnat-like insects in the air there.  

Tansy still fresh, and I saw autumnal dandelion a few days since.

In the evening I see the spearer's light on the river.

A great slate-colored hawk sails away from the Cliffs.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, December 6, 1852

This is the warmest and pleasantest day yet.  See May 6, 1857 ("A beautiful and warm day."); December 10, 1853 ("These are among the finest days in the year"); December 10, 1856 ("A warm, clear, glorious winter day.") See also December 5, 1856 ("I have never got over my surprise that I should have been born into the most estimable place in all the world, and in the very nick of time, too ") and A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The world can never be more beautiful than now.

Cows are turned out to pasture again. See December 8, 1850 ("A week ago I saw cows being driven home from pasture. Now they are kept at home.")

Fine cobwebs glimmer in the air . . . sometimes stretching from side to side above my head. See November 1, 1851 ("It is a remarkable day for fine gossamer cobwebs . . . They have the effect of a shimmer in the air . . . the effect of a drifting storm of light."); October 20, 1858 ("Flocks of this gossamer, like tangled skeins, float gently through the quiet air as high as my head, like white parachutes to unseen balloons.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Gossamer Days

I see many little gnat-like insects in the air there. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Fuzzy Gnats (tipulidæ)

Tansy still fresh, and I saw autumnal dandelion a few days since. See November 12, 1853 ("Tansy is very fresh still in some places"); November 23, 1852 ("Among the flowers which may be put down as lasting thus far, as I remember, in the order of their hardiness: yarrow, tansy (these very fresh and common), cerastium, autumnal dandelion, dandelion, and perhaps tall buttercup, etc., the last four scarce."); December 12, 1852 ("Tansy still fresh yellow by the Corner Bridge.")

In the evening I see the spearer's light on the river. See October 16, 1851 ("To-night the spearers are out again."); November 15, 1855 ("The river rising. I see a spearer’s light to-night.")

A great slate-colored hawk sails away from the Cliffs. See December 31, 1859 ("Do I ever see a small hawk in winter ?"); December 7, 1858 ("Dr. Bryant. . . says Cooper’s hawk is just like the sharp-shinned, only a little larger commonly. He could not tell them apart")

December on the Concord: a Mink.

December 2.

Started in boat before 9 A.M. down river to Billerica with W.E.C.  I do not remember when I have taken a sail or a row on the river in December before. 

  December 2, 2017

We had to break the ice about the boat-house for some distance. The banks are white with frost. The air is calm, and the water smooth.

Some parts of the meadow are covered with thin ice, through which we row, and the waves we make in the river nibble and crumble its edge, and produce a rustling of the grass and reeds, as if a muskrat were stirring. 

The distant sounds of cars, cocks, hounds, etc., as we glide past N.Barrett's farm, remind me of spring. There is a certain resonance and elasticity in the air that makes the least sound melodious as in spring. It is an anticipation, a looking through winter to spring. 

There goes a muskrat. He leaves so long a ripple behind that in this light you cannot tell where his body ends, and think him longer than he is. 

Above the bridge on the road from Chelmsford to Bedford we see a mink, slender, black, very like a weasel in form. He alternately runs along on the ice and swims in the water, now and then holding up his head and long neck looking at us. 

Not so shy as a muskrat.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, December 2, 1852

I do not remember when I have taken a sail or a row on the river in December before. See December 8, 1855 ("Still no snow, — nor ice noticeable. I might have left my boat out till now."); December 27, 1852 ("Not a particle of ice in Walden to-day. Paddled across it. I took my new boat out. Flint's and Fair Haven being frozen up. Ground bare. River open"); December 28, 1852 ("Brought my boat from Walden in rain. No snow on ground.") See also November 26, 1857 ("Got my boat up this afternoon. . . .One end had frozen in.”); November 26, 1858 ("Got in boat on account of Reynolds’s new fence going up (earlier than usual”); November 29, 1860 ("Get up my boat, 7 a. m. Thin ice of the night is floating down the river.”); November 30, 1855 (“Got in my boat. River remained iced over all day.”); December 2, 1854 ("Got up my boat and housed it, ice having formed about it."); December 2, 1856 ("Got in my boat, which before I had got out and turned up on the bank.");December 5, 1853 ("Got my boat in."); December 10, 1859 ("Get in my boat, in the snow. The bottom is coated with a glaze”); ) and A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Boat in. Boat out.

There is a certain resonance and elasticity in the air that makes the least sound melodious as in spring. It is an anticipation, a looking through winter to spring. See December 2, 1859 ("The crowing of cocks and other sounds remind you of spring, such is the state of the air.") See also December 1, 1852 (“The year looks back toward summer, and a summer smile is reflected in her face”)

Above the bridge . . .we see a mink, slender, black. . . See November 27, 1855 ("A mink skin which he showed me was a darker brown than the one I saw last (he says they changed suddenly to darker about a fortnight since); and the tail was nearly all black.”); November 17, 1855 ("Mink seem to be more commonly seen now . . .”); November 13, 1855 (“Going over Swamp Bridge Brook at 3 P. M., I saw in the pond by the roadside, a few rods before me, the sun shining bright, a mink swimming . . . It was a rich brown fur . . . not black as it sometimes appears, especially on ice.”).

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The buds are prepared for spring

December 1.

To Cliffs. 

The snow keeps off unusually. 

The landscape is the color of a russet apple which has no golden cheek. The sunset sky supplies that. But though it be crude to bite, it yields a pleasant acid flavor. 

The year looks back toward summer, and a summer smile is reflected in her face. 

There is in these days a coolness in the air which makes me hesitate to call them Indian summer.

At this season I observe the form of the buds which are prepared for spring,

• the large bright yellowish and reddish buds of the swamp-pink, 
• the already downy ones of the Populus tremuloides and the willows, 
• the red ones of the blueberry, 
• the long, sharp ones of the amelanchier, 
• the spear-shaped ones of the viburnum; 

also the catkins of the alders and birches.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, December 1, 1852

At this season I observe the form of the buds.  See October 30, 1853 ("Now, now is the time to look at the buds.”); November 4, 1857 ("I notice the new and as yet unswollen scales of willow catkins or buds"); November 5, 1855 ("Swamp-pink buds now begin to show.");  December 6, 1856 ("On all sides, in swamps and about their edges and in the woods, the bare shrubs are sprinkled with buds, more or less noticeable and pretty, their little gemmae or gems, their most vital and attractive parts now, almost all the greenness and color left, greens and salads for the birds and rabbits."); December 11, 1855 ("I thread the tangle of the spruce swamp, admiring . . . the great yellow buds of the swamp-pink, the round red buds of the high blueberry, and the fine sharp red ones of the panicled andromeda"); December 31, 1859 ("The oblong-conical sterile flower-buds or catkins of the sweet-gale, half a dozen at the end of each black twig, dark-red, oblong-conical, spotted with black, and about half an inch long, are among the most interesting buds of the winter.")