The year is but a succession of days,
and I see that I could assign some office to each day
which, summed up, would be the history of the year.
Henry Thoreau, August 24, 1852
Fine snow drives along
like steam curling from a roof.
I see the drifts form.
February 23, 2019
yellow light from under the dark cloud in the west
A man has not seen a thing who has not felt it. February 23. 1860
This forenoon a driving storm, very severe. February 23, 1854
The snow drives horizontally from the north or northwesterly, in long waving lines like the outline of a swell or billow. February 23, 1854
This afternoon fair, but high wind and drifting snow. February 23, 1854
The fine snow drives along over the field like steam curling from a roof, forming architectural drifts. February 23, 1854
Clear, but a very cold north wind. February 23, 1855
I see great cakes of ice, a rod or more in length and one foot thick, lying high and dry on the bare ground in the low fields some ten feet or more beyond the edge of the thinner ice, washed up by the last rise (the 18th).February 23, 1855
See at Walden this afternoon that the grayish ice formed over the large square where ice has been taken out for Brown’s ice-house has a decided pink or rosaceous tinge. February 23, 1855
I see no cracks in the ground this year yet. February 23, 1855
I see great cakes of ice, a rod or more in length and one foot thick, lying high and dry on the bare ground in the low fields some ten feet or more beyond the edge of the thinner ice, washed up by the last rise (the 18th).February 23, 1855
See at Walden this afternoon that the grayish ice formed over the large square where ice has been taken out for Brown’s ice-house has a decided pink or rosaceous tinge. February 23, 1855
I see no cracks in the ground this year yet. February 23, 1855
A still warmer day. The snow is so solid that it still bears me, though we have had several warm suns on it. It is melting gradually under the sun. February 23, 1856
In the morning I make but little impression in it. February 23, 1856
In the morning I make but little impression in it. February 23, 1856
As it melts, it acquires a rough but regularly waved surface. February 23, 1856
At 2 P. M. the thermometer is 47°. Whenever it is near 40 there is a speedy softening of the snow. February 23, 1856
I sit by a maple. It wears the same shaggy coat of lichens summer and winter.February 23, 1856
It is inspiriting to feel the increased heat of the sun reflected from the snow. February 23, 1856
I sit by a maple. It wears the same shaggy coat of lichens summer and winter.February 23, 1856
It is inspiriting to feel the increased heat of the sun reflected from the snow. February 23, 1856
There is a slight mist above the fields, through which the crowing of cocks sounds springlike. February 23, 1856
You saunter expectant in the mild air along the soft edge of a ditch filled with melted snow and paved with leaves, in some sheltered place . . .The tortoise is stirring in the ditches again. February 23, 1857
In your latest spring they still look incredibly strange when first seen, and not like cohabitants and contemporaries of yours. February 23, 1857
What mean these turtles, these coins of the muddy mint issued in early spring? The bright spots on their backs are vain unless I behold them. February 23, 1857
What mean these turtles, these coins of the muddy mint issued in early spring? The bright spots on their backs are vain unless I behold them. February 23, 1857
The spots seem brighter than ever when first beheld in the spring, as does the bark of the willow. February 23, 1857
Walk to Quinsigamond Pond, where was good skating yesterday, but this very pleasant and warm day it is suddenly quite too soft. February 23, 1859
I first hear and then see eight or ten bluebirds going over. Perhaps they have not reached Concord yet. One boy tells me that he saw a bluebird in Concord on Sunday, the 20th. February 23, 1859
I see, just caught in the pond, a brook pickerel which, though it has no transverse bars, but a much finer and slighter reticulation than the common, is very distinct from it in the length and form of the snout. This is much shorter and broader as you look down on it. February 23, 1859
Thermometer 58° and snow almost gone. River rising. February 23, 1860
We have not had such a warm day since the beginning of December (which was remarkably warm). February 23, 1860
We have not had such a warm day since the beginning of December (which was remarkably warm). February 23, 1860
I walk over the moist Nawshawtuct hillside and see the green radical leaves of the buttercup, shepherd's purse (circular), sorrel, chickweed, cerastium, etc., revealed. February 23, 1860
About 4 P. M. a smart shower, ushered in by thunder and succeeded by a brilliant rainbow and yellow light from under the dark cloud in the west. February 23, 1860
About 4 P. M. a smart shower, ushered in by thunder and succeeded by a brilliant rainbow and yellow light from under the dark cloud in the west. February 23, 1860
Thus the first remarkable heat brings a thunder-shower. February 23, 1860
I have seen signs of the spring. February 23, 1857
I have seen a frog swiftly sinking in a pool, or where he dimpled the surface as he leapt in. February 23, 1857
I have seen the brilliant spotted tortoises stirring at the bottom of ditches.February 23, 1857
I have seen the clear sap trickling from the red maple. February 23, 1857
So may we measure our lives by our joys. February 23, 1860
We have lived, not in proportion to the number of years that we have spent on the earth, but in proportion as we have enjoyed. February 23, 1860
I read in the papers that the ocean is frozen, — not to bear or walk on safely, —or has been lately, on the back side of Cape Cod; at the Highland Light, one mile out from the shore. A phenomenon which, it is said, the oldest have not witnessed before.February 23, 1856
*****
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, February Belongs to Spring
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Yellow-Spotted Turtle (Emys guttata)
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Pickerel
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Wood Sorrel (Oxalis)
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Signs of the Spring:
*****
February 23, 2019
If you make the least correct
observation of nature this year,
you will have occasion to repeat it
with illustrations the next,
and the season and life itself is prolonged.
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, February 22
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 © 2009-2023
https://tinyurl.com/HDTFeb23
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