Wednesday, December 4, 2013

The ice of Goose Pond.


December 4.

Sunday. 

The coldest day yet, clear with considerable wind, after the first cloudless morning for a week or two. 

Goose Pond apparently froze over last night, all but a few rods, but not thick enough to bear. 

I see a lizard on the bottom under the ice. No doubt I have sometimes mistaken them for tadpoles. 

(Flint's Pond only skimmed a little at the shore, like the river.) 

The ice of Goose Pond already has a dusty look. It shows the crystals distinctly.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, December 4, 1853

Goose Pond apparently froze over last night, all but a few rods, but not thick enough to bear. See December 2, 1857 ("Measuring Little Goose Pond, I observed two painted tortoises moving about under the thin transparent ice. . . .”); December 13, 1857 ("This and the like ponds are just covered with virgin ice just thick enough to bear,. . . I see those same two tortoises (of Dec. 2d), moving about in the same place under the ice, which I can not crack with my feet.”)

December 4. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, December 4A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, I love you like I love the sky

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

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