Morning snow turns to
fine freezing rain with a glaze
changing to pure rain.
February 26, 2021
This and the last two or three days have been very blustering and unpleasant, though clear. February 26, 1855
Cold and strong northwest wind this and yesterday. February 26, 1860
2 P. M. — Thermometer 30; cold northwest wind. February 26, 1860
Still clear and cold and windy. No thawing of the ground during the day. February 26, 1855
I see some cracks in a plowed field, — Depot Field cornfield, — maybe recent ones. I think since this last cold snap, else I had noticed them before. February 26, 1855
In Hubbard’s maple swamp beyond, I see the snow under a dead maple, where a woodpecker has drilled a handsome round hole. Excepting the carrying it downward within, it is ready for a nest. May they not have a view to this use even now? February 26, 1856
Directly off Clamshell Hill, within four rods of it, where the water is three or four feet deep, I see where the musquash dived and brought up clams before the last freezing. February 26, 1855
Their open shells are strewn along close to the edge of the ice, and close together. They lie thickly around the edge of each small circle of thinner black ice in the midst of the white, showing where was open water a day or two ago. February 26, 1855
This shows that this is still a good place for clams, as it was in Indian days. February 26, 1855
I see at bottom of the mill brook, below Emerson’s, two dead frogs . . . Were they left by a mink, or killed by cold and ice? February 26, 1856
The brook has part way yet a snowy bridge over it. February 26, 1856
Examine with glass some fox-dung from a tussock of grass amid the ice on the meadow. February 26, 1855
It appears to be composed two thirds of clay, and the rest a slate-colored fur and coarser white hairs, black-tipped, -- too coarse for the deer mouse. Is it that of the rabbit? This mingled with small bones. A mass as long as one’s finger. February 26, 1855
Now we begin to see the Cladonia rangiferina ("reindeer moss") in the dry pastures. February 26, 1852
Observe for the first time on and about Bear Hill in Lincoln the "greenish straw-colored" Parmelia conspersa, a very handsome and memorable lichen, which every child has admired. February 26, 1852
Observe for the first time on and about Bear Hill in Lincoln the "greenish straw-colored" Parmelia conspersa, a very handsome and memorable lichen, which every child has admired. February 26, 1852
I love to find it where the rocks will split into their laminae so that I can easily carry away a specimen. February 26, 1852
This morning it began with snowing, turned to a fine freezing rain producing a glaze, — the weeds, trees, etc., are covered with the most of a glaze thus far, — but in the afternoon changes to pure rain. February 26, 1854
Those great cakes of ice which the last freshet floated up on to uplands now lie still further from the edge of the recent ice. You are surprised to see them lying with perpendicular edges a foot thick on bare, grassy upland where there is no other sign of water, sometimes wholly isolated by bare grass there. February 26, 1855
When the weather became colder and froze, the new ice only reached part way up these cakes, which lay high and dry. February 26, 1855
It appeared to me that the meadow surface had been heaved by the frost, and then the water had run down and under it, and finally, when the ice rose, lifted it up, wherever there was ice enough mixed with it to float it. February 26, 1851
I saw large cakes of ice with other large cakes, the latter as big as a table, on top of them. February 26, 1851
September 23, 1860 ("I see on the top of the Cliffs to-day the dung of a fox, consisting of fur, with part of the jaw and one of the long rodent teeth of a woodchuck in it, and the rest of it huckleberry seeds with some whole berries")
December 23, 1856 (“The cracking of the ground is a phenomenon of the coldest nights”)
January 11, 1859 ("It would appear then that the ground cracks on the advent of very severe cold weather.")
February 1, 1856 ("What gives to the excrements of the fox that clay color often, even at this season? Left on an eminence. ")
February 6, 1852 ("Near the C. Miles house there are some remarkably yellow lichens (parmelias?) on the rails, - ever as if the sun were about to shine forth clearly.")
February 7, 1856 ("Begins to snow at 8 A.M.; turns to rain at noon, and clears off, or rather ceased raining, at night, with some glaze on the trees.")
February 7, 1855 ("The coldest night for a long, long time. People dreaded to go to bed. The ground cracked in the night as if a powder-mill had blown up")
February 9, 1856 ("How much the northwest wind prevails in the winter! Almost all our storms come from that quarter, and the ridges of snow-drifts run that way.")
February 10, 1860 ("A very strong and a cold northwest wind to-day, shaking the house, — thermometer at 11 a. m., 14°, — consumes wood and yet we are cold, and drives the smoke down the chimney.")
February 14, 1854 ("I perceive that some of these pools by the Walden road which on the 9th looked so green have frozen blue.")
February 17, 1860 ("Cold and northwest wind, drifting the snow. . . .thermometer 14º.")
February 18, 1856 ("Sophia says that Mrs. Brooks's spiraeas have started considerably!”)
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 24, 1855 ("The whole of the broad meadows is a rough, irregular checker-board of great cakes a rod square or more”)
February 24, 1857 (“I am surprised to hear the strain of a song sparrow from the riverside.”)
February 25, 1857 ("I hear of lilac buds expanding, but have not looked at them.")
February 28, 1855 ("Far on every side, over what is usually dry land, are scattered a stretching pack of great cakes of ice, often two or more upon each other and partly tilted up, a foot thick and one to two or more rods broad.")
March 8, 1860 ("I saw, in Monroe's well by the edge of the river, the other day, a dozen frogs, chiefly shad frogs, which had been dead a good while.")
March 9, 1855 (“Painted the bottom of my boat. ”)
March 11, 1854 ("On Tuesday, the 7th, I heard the first song sparrow chirp, and saw it flit silently from alder to alder. This pleasant morning after three days' rain and mist, they generally forthburst into sprayey song from the low trees along the river. The developing of their song is gradual but sure, like the expanding of a flower. This is the first song I have heard.”)
March 15, 1854 (“Paint my boat.”)
March 16, 1860 (“As soon as I can get it painted and dried, I launch my boat and make my first voyage for the year up or down the stream, on that element from which I have been de barred for three months and a half.”)
March 17, 1857 (“Launch my boat.”)
March 18, 1852 ("There is more rain than snow now falling, and the lichens, especially the Parmelia conspersa, appear to be full of fresh fruit, though they are nearly buried in snow.")
March 28, 1852 (' See . . .dead frogs, and the mud stirred by a living one, in this ditch, and afterward in Conantum Brook a living frog, the first of the season")
April 15, 1860 ("Strong northwest wind and cold.. . .We are continually expecting warmer weather than we have”)
The wind rises and the rain increases. The rain is fast washing off all the glaze. February 26, 1854
Deep pools of water form in the fields, which have an agreeable green or blue tint, — sometimes the one, sometimes the other. February 26, 1854
Deep pools of water form in the fields, which have an agreeable green or blue tint, — sometimes the one, sometimes the other. February 26, 1854
The quantity of water which is fallen is by no means remarkable but, the ground being frozen, it is not soaked up. February 26, 1854
There is more water on the surface than before this winter. February 26, 1854
The water is about six inches above Hoar's steps. That well covers the meadows generally. February 26, 1860
Those great cakes of ice which the last freshet floated up on to uplands now lie still further from the edge of the recent ice. You are surprised to see them lying with perpendicular edges a foot thick on bare, grassy upland where there is no other sign of water, sometimes wholly isolated by bare grass there. February 26, 1855
When the weather became colder and froze, the new ice only reached part way up these cakes, which lay high and dry. February 26, 1855
It is therefore pretty good skating on the river itself and on a greater part of the meadows next the river, but it is interrupted by great cakes of ice rising above the general level near the shore. February 26, 1855
Examined the floating meadow again to-day. It is more than a foot thick, the under part much mixed with ice, — ice and muck. February 26, 1851
It appeared to me that the meadow surface had been heaved by the frost, and then the water had run down and under it, and finally, when the ice rose, lifted it up, wherever there was ice enough mixed with it to float it. February 26, 1851
I saw large cakes of ice with other large cakes, the latter as big as a table, on top of them. February 26, 1851
Probably the former rose while the latter were already floating about. February 26, 1851
The plants scattered about were bulrushes and lily-pad stems. February 26, 1851
I saw Mrs. Brooks's spiraeas to-day grown half an inch (!!), whose starting I heard of on the 18th. February 26, 1857
See five red-wings and a song sparrow(?) this afternoon. February 26, 1851
Paint the bottom of my boat. February 26, 1857
****
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Snow-storms might be classified
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Winter of Skating
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Lichens
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Fox
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Musquash
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Boat in. Boat out.
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Signs of the Spring
****
 |
| February 26, 2017 |
December 23, 1856 (“The cracking of the ground is a phenomenon of the coldest nights”)
January 11, 1859 ("It would appear then that the ground cracks on the advent of very severe cold weather.")
February 1, 1856 ("What gives to the excrements of the fox that clay color often, even at this season? Left on an eminence. ")
February 6, 1852 ("Near the C. Miles house there are some remarkably yellow lichens (parmelias?) on the rails, - ever as if the sun were about to shine forth clearly.")
February 7, 1856 ("Begins to snow at 8 A.M.; turns to rain at noon, and clears off, or rather ceased raining, at night, with some glaze on the trees.")
February 7, 1855 ("The coldest night for a long, long time. People dreaded to go to bed. The ground cracked in the night as if a powder-mill had blown up")
February 9, 1856 ("How much the northwest wind prevails in the winter! Almost all our storms come from that quarter, and the ridges of snow-drifts run that way.")
February 10, 1860 ("A very strong and a cold northwest wind to-day, shaking the house, — thermometer at 11 a. m., 14°, — consumes wood and yet we are cold, and drives the smoke down the chimney.")
February 14, 1854 ("I perceive that some of these pools by the Walden road which on the 9th looked so green have frozen blue.")
February 17, 1860 ("Cold and northwest wind, drifting the snow. . . .thermometer 14º.")
February 18, 1856 ("Sophia says that Mrs. Brooks's spiraeas have started considerably!”)
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 24, 1855 ("The whole of the broad meadows is a rough, irregular checker-board of great cakes a rod square or more”)
February 24, 1857 (“I am surprised to hear the strain of a song sparrow from the riverside.”)
February 25, 1857 ("I hear of lilac buds expanding, but have not looked at them.")
February 28, 1855 ("Far on every side, over what is usually dry land, are scattered a stretching pack of great cakes of ice, often two or more upon each other and partly tilted up, a foot thick and one to two or more rods broad.")
March 8, 1860 ("I saw, in Monroe's well by the edge of the river, the other day, a dozen frogs, chiefly shad frogs, which had been dead a good while.")
March 9, 1855 (“Painted the bottom of my boat. ”)
March 11, 1854 ("On Tuesday, the 7th, I heard the first song sparrow chirp, and saw it flit silently from alder to alder. This pleasant morning after three days' rain and mist, they generally forthburst into sprayey song from the low trees along the river. The developing of their song is gradual but sure, like the expanding of a flower. This is the first song I have heard.”)
March 15, 1854 (“Paint my boat.”)
March 16, 1860 (“As soon as I can get it painted and dried, I launch my boat and make my first voyage for the year up or down the stream, on that element from which I have been de barred for three months and a half.”)
March 17, 1857 (“Launch my boat.”)
March 18, 1852 ("There is more rain than snow now falling, and the lichens, especially the Parmelia conspersa, appear to be full of fresh fruit, though they are nearly buried in snow.")
March 28, 1852 (' See . . .dead frogs, and the mud stirred by a living one, in this ditch, and afterward in Conantum Brook a living frog, the first of the season")
April 15, 1860 ("Strong northwest wind and cold.. . .We are continually expecting warmer weather than we have”)
February 26, 2022
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 26 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 tinyurl.com/HDT26Feb |
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