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| "Did you see those two sun-dogs on Saturday?" |
In running a line through a wood-lot in the southwest part of Lincoln to-day, I started from an old pine stump, now mostly crumbled away, though a part of the wood was still hard above ground, which was described in his deed of 1813 (forty-six years ago) as a pine stump. It was on the side of a hill above Deacon Farrar's meadow.
As I stood on a hill just cut off, I saw, half a dozen rods below, the bright-yellow catkins of a tall willow just opened on the edge of the swamp, against the dark-brown twigs and the withered leaves. This early blossom looks bright and rare amid the withered leaves and the generally brown and dry surface, like the early butterflies.
This is the most conspicuous of the March flowers (i. e. if it chances to be so early as March). It suggests unthought-of warmth and sunniness. It takes but little color and tender growth to make miles of dry brown woodland and swamp look habitable and home like, as if a man could dwell there.
Mr. Haines, who travelled over the lots with us this very cold and blustering day, was over eighty.
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, April 5, 1859
Bright-yellow catkins of a tall willow just opened on the edge of the swamp, against the dark-brown twigs and the withered leaves. See April 12, 1852 ("See the first blossoms (bright-yellow stamens or pistils) on the willow catkins to-day. . . . It is fit that this almost earliest spring flower should be yellow, the color of the sun."); April 15, 1852 (" the largest early-catkined willow in large bushes in sand by water now blossoming -- the fertile catkins with paler blossoms, the sterile covered with pollen, a pleasant lively bright yellow -- is the brightest flower I have seen thus far. ")' April 18, 1852 ("The most interesting fact, perhaps, at present is these few tender yellow blossoms, these half-expanded sterile aments of the willow, seen through the rain and cold, — signs of the advancing year, pledges of the sun's return.").
This early blossom looks bright and rare amid the withered leaves and the generally brown and dry surface, like the early butterflies. See March 31. 1858 ("The earliest butterflies seem to be born of the dry leaves on the forest floor.")
As I stood on a hill just cut off, I saw, half a dozen rods below, the bright-yellow catkins of a tall willow just opened on the edge of the swamp, against the dark-brown twigs and the withered leaves. This early blossom looks bright and rare amid the withered leaves and the generally brown and dry surface, like the early butterflies.
This is the most conspicuous of the March flowers (i. e. if it chances to be so early as March). It suggests unthought-of warmth and sunniness. It takes but little color and tender growth to make miles of dry brown woodland and swamp look habitable and home like, as if a man could dwell there.
Mr. Haines, who travelled over the lots with us this very cold and blustering day, was over eighty.
"What raw, blustering weather!" said I to my employer to-day.
"Yes," answered he. "Did you see those two sun-dogs on Saturday?"They are a pretty sure sign of cold and windy weather.
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, April 5, 1859
Bright-yellow catkins of a tall willow just opened on the edge of the swamp, against the dark-brown twigs and the withered leaves. See April 12, 1852 ("See the first blossoms (bright-yellow stamens or pistils) on the willow catkins to-day. . . . It is fit that this almost earliest spring flower should be yellow, the color of the sun."); April 15, 1852 (" the largest early-catkined willow in large bushes in sand by water now blossoming -- the fertile catkins with paler blossoms, the sterile covered with pollen, a pleasant lively bright yellow -- is the brightest flower I have seen thus far. ")' April 18, 1852 ("The most interesting fact, perhaps, at present is these few tender yellow blossoms, these half-expanded sterile aments of the willow, seen through the rain and cold, — signs of the advancing year, pledges of the sun's return.").
This early blossom looks bright and rare amid the withered leaves and the generally brown and dry surface, like the early butterflies. See March 31. 1858 ("The earliest butterflies seem to be born of the dry leaves on the forest floor.")
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