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.
March 15. 2020
Journal, March 15, 1852:
My life partakes of infinity. See September 7, 1851 ("We are receiving our portion of the infinite. We are surrounded by a rich and fertile mystery. May we not probe it, pry into it, employ ourselves about it, a little?")
Journal, March 15, 1853:
I have not taken a more blustering walk this past winter than this afternoon. See March 28, 1854 ("Coldest day for a month or more, — severe as almost any in the winter."); March 28, 1855 ("I run about these cold and blustering days, on the whole perhaps the worst to bear in the year, . . . looking almost in vain for some animal or vegetable life stirring. As for the singing of birds, — the few that have come to us, — it is too cold for them to sing and for me to hear. "); March 12, 1856 ("We had a colder day in the winter of ’54 and ’55 than in the last, yet the ice did not get to be so thick. . . . If the present cold should continue uninterrupted a thousand years would not the pond become solid?"); March 13, 1857 ("This month has been windy and cold, a succession of snows one or two inches deep, soon going off, the spring birds all driven off.")
How memorable
a calm and warm day amid
cold blustering ones.
March 15, 1860
Notwithstanding this day is so cold that I keep my ears covered, the sidewalks melt in the sun, such is its altitude. See March 18, 1856 (“Two little water-bugs . . . Notwithstanding the backwardness of the season, all the town still under deep snow and ice, here they are, in the first open and smooth water, governed by the altitude of the sun.")
Journal, March 15, 1854:
The first F. hyemalis, mingled with song sparrows and tree sparrows. See March 14, 1858 (I see a Fringilla hyemalis, . . . They are now getting back earlier than our permanent summer residents.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Dark-eyed Junco; A Book of Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Song Sparrow (Fringilla melodia); A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Tree Sparrow
The sound of Barrett's sawmill in the still morning. See May 8, 1857 ("I hear the sound of Barrett's sawmill with singular distinctness."); December 17, 1855 ("I hear the sound of the sawmill even at the door, also the cawing of crows.")
March 15, 2014
I hear that peculiar, interesting loud hollow tapping of a woodpecker from over the water. See March 11, 1859 (“But methinks the sound of the woodpecker tapping is as much a spring note as any these mornings; it echoes peculiarly in the air of a spring morning.”); March 13, 1855 ("I hear the rapid tapping of the woodpecker from over the water."); March 18, 1853 ("The tapping of the woodpecker about this time.”). See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Signs of Spring, the tapping of the woodpecker and March 17, 1857 ("It is only some very early still, warm, and pleasant morning in February or March that I notice that woodpecker-like whar-whar-whar-whar-whar-whar, earliest spring sound.")
Paint my boat. See March 9, 1855 (“Painted the bottom of my boat.”); February 26, 1857 (“Paint the bottom of my boat.”) See also December 5, 1856 ("I love to have the river closed up for a season and a pause put to my boating, to be obliged to get my boat in. I shall launch it again in the spring with so much more pleasure. I love best to have each thing in its season only, and enjoy doing without it at all other times.") and A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Boat in. Boat out.
Journal, March 15, 1855:
Jacob Farmer gave me to-day the foot of an otter. See March 10, 1855 ("Jacob Farmer gave me to-day a part of the foot probably of a pine marten, which he found two or three days ago in a trap he had set in his brook for a mink, -- under water, baited with a pickerel.") See also March 6, 1856 ("On the rock this side the Leaning Hemlocks, is the track of an otter"); March 31, 1857 ("The existence of the otter, our largest wild animal, is not betrayed to any of our senses (or at least not to more than one in a thousand)!"); January 30, 1854 ("How retired an otter manages to live! He grows to be four feet long without any mortal getting a glimpse of him.")
Jacob Farmer gave me to-day the foot of an otter. See March 10, 1855 ("Jacob Farmer gave me to-day a part of the foot probably of a pine marten, which he found two or three days ago in a trap he had set in his brook for a mink, -- under water, baited with a pickerel.") See also March 6, 1856 ("On the rock this side the Leaning Hemlocks, is the track of an otter"); March 31, 1857 ("The existence of the otter, our largest wild animal, is not betrayed to any of our senses (or at least not to more than one in a thousand)!"); January 30, 1854 ("How retired an otter manages to live! He grows to be four feet long without any mortal getting a glimpse of him.")
Journal, March 15, 1856:
Put a spout in the red maple of yesterday. See March 14, 1856 ("[J]ust above Pinxter Swamp, one red maple limb was moistened by sap trickling along the bark. Tapping this, I was surprised to find it flow freely."); February 21, 1857 ("The earliest sap I made to flow last year was March 14th.") and note to March 16, 1856 (''The red maple sap is now about an inch deep in a quart pail, nearly all caught since morning.")
Journal, March 15, 1857:
An early dawn and premature blush of spring, at which I was not present. See March 17, 1857 ("No mortal is alert enough to be present at the first dawn of the spring, but he will presently discover some evidence that vegetation had awaked some days at least before. . . .I thus detect the first approach of spring by finding here and there its scouts and vanguard which have been slain by the rear-guard of retreating winter.")
At Heywood’s Peak, I start partridges from the perfectly bare hillside. Such the spots they frequent at this season. See March 23, 1856 ("Almost the whole of the steep hillside on the north of Walden is now bare and dry and warm, though fenced in with ice and snow. It has attracted partridges, four of which whir away on my approach.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Partridge
I cross one of the bays of Walden, and might the middle. See March 14, 1860 (" I am surprised to find Walden open. No sooner has the ice of Walden melted than the wind begins to play in dark ripples over the surface of the virgin water. Ice dissolved is the next moment as perfect water as if melted a million years."); April 18, 1856 ("Walden is open entirely to-day for the first time, owing to the rain of yesterday and evening. I have observed its breaking up of different years commencing in ’45, and the average date has been April 4th.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Ice-out
Journal, March 15, 1859:
Two brilliant rainbows at sunset, the first of the year. See March 13, 1855 ("Rainbow in east this morning. ") and note to April 9, 1855 ("In the afternoon it rained, but the sun set clear,. . .producing the first rainbow I have seen or heard of except one long ago in the morning.")
Journal, March 15, 1860:
Two brilliant rainbows at sunset, the first of the year. See March 13, 1855 ("Rainbow in east this morning. ") and note to April 9, 1855 ("In the afternoon it rained, but the sun set clear,. . .producing the first rainbow I have seen or heard of except one long ago in the morning.")
Journal, March 15, 1860:
I hear that there was about one acre of ice only at the southwest corner (by the road) of Flint's Pond on the 13th. It will probably, then, open entirely to-day, with Walden. See note to March 19, 1854 ("Flint's Pond almost entirely open."); Compare April 1, 1852 (" I am surprised to find Flint's Pond frozen still, which should have been open a week ago. How unexpectedly dumb and poor and cold does Nature look, when, where we had expected to find a glassy lake reflecting the skies and trees in the spring, we find only dull, white ice!") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Ice-out
A hen-hawk sails away from the wood southward. See March 4, 1860 ("A hen-hawk rises and sails away over the Holden Wood as in summer.")What HDT calls the “hen-hawk” is the red-tailed hawk. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The hen-hawk
These hawks, as usual, began to be common about the first of March, showing that they were returning from their winter quarters. . . . What a perfectly regular and neat outline it presents! An easily recognized figure anywhere. See March 23, 1859 (“[W]e saw a hen-hawk perch on the topmost plume of one of the tall pines at the head of the meadow. Soon another appeared, probably its mate, but we looked in vain for a nest there. It was a fine sight, their soaring above our heads, presenting a perfect outline and, as they came round, showing their rust-colored tails with a whitish rump, or, as they sailed away from us, that slight teetering or quivering motion of their dark-tipped wings seen edgewise, now on this side, now that, by which they balanced and directed themselves.”)
Many large fuzzy gnats and other insects in air. See March 2, 1860 ("We see one or two gnats in the air."); March 7, 1860 ("C. says that he saw a swarm of very small gnats in the air yesterday."). See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Fuzzy Gnats
Am surprised to hear, from the pool behind Lee's Cliff, the croaking of the wood frog. . . . As Walden opens eight days earlier than I have known it, so this frog croaks about as much earlier. See March 14, 1860 ("I am surprised to find Walden almost entirely open. . . . I have not observed it to open before before the 23d of March."); March 30, 1858 ("Later, in a pool behind Lee's Cliff, I hear them, – the waking up of the leafy pools."); See also March 23, 1859 ("I hear a single croak from a wood frog. . . . Thus we sit on that rock, hear the first wood frog's croak"); March 24, 1859 ("I am sitting in Laurel Glen, listening to hear the earliest wood frogs croaking. . . .. Now, when the leaves get to be dry and rustle under your feet, dried by the March winds, the peculiar dry note, wurrk wurrk wur-r-r-k wurk of the wood frog is heard faintly by ears on the alert, borne up from some unseen pool in a woodland hollow which is open to the influences of the sun. "); March 26, 1857 ("I hear a faint, stertorous croak from a frog in the open swamp; at first one faint note only, which I could not be sure that I had heard"); March 26, 1860 (“The wood frog [first] may be heard March 15, as this year, or not till April 13, as in '56,”); March 27, 1853 ("Tried to see the faint-croaking frogs at J. P. Brown's Pond in the woods. They are remarkably timid and shy; had their noses and eyes out, croaking, but all ceased, dove, and concealed themselves, before I got within a rod of the shore."); March 28, 1858 ("Coming home, I hear the croaking frogs in the pool on the south side of Hubbard’s Grove. It is sufficiently warm for them at last."); March 30, 1858 ("I do not remember that I ever hear this frog in the river or ponds. They seem to be an early frog, peculiar to pools and small ponds in the woods and fields."); March 31, 1855 (“I go listening for the croak of the first frog, or peep of a hylodes."); March 31, 1857 (“As I rise the east side of the Hill, I hear the distant faint peep of hylodes and the tut tut of croaking frogs from the west of the Hill.”); April 13, 1856 ("As I go by the Andromeda Ponds, I hear the tut tut of a few croaking frogs,"); See also April 18, 1856 ("Walden is open entirely to-day for the first time.") and A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Wood Frog (Rana sylvatica)
Am surprised to hear, from the pool behind Lee's Cliff, the croaking of the wood frog. . . . As Walden opens eight days earlier than I have known it, so this frog croaks about as much earlier. See March 14, 1860 ("I am surprised to find Walden almost entirely open. . . . I have not observed it to open before before the 23d of March."); March 30, 1858 ("Later, in a pool behind Lee's Cliff, I hear them, – the waking up of the leafy pools."); See also March 23, 1859 ("I hear a single croak from a wood frog. . . . Thus we sit on that rock, hear the first wood frog's croak"); March 24, 1859 ("I am sitting in Laurel Glen, listening to hear the earliest wood frogs croaking. . . .. Now, when the leaves get to be dry and rustle under your feet, dried by the March winds, the peculiar dry note, wurrk wurrk wur-r-r-k wurk of the wood frog is heard faintly by ears on the alert, borne up from some unseen pool in a woodland hollow which is open to the influences of the sun. "); March 26, 1857 ("I hear a faint, stertorous croak from a frog in the open swamp; at first one faint note only, which I could not be sure that I had heard"); March 26, 1860 (“The wood frog [first] may be heard March 15, as this year, or not till April 13, as in '56,”); March 27, 1853 ("Tried to see the faint-croaking frogs at J. P. Brown's Pond in the woods. They are remarkably timid and shy; had their noses and eyes out, croaking, but all ceased, dove, and concealed themselves, before I got within a rod of the shore."); March 28, 1858 ("Coming home, I hear the croaking frogs in the pool on the south side of Hubbard’s Grove. It is sufficiently warm for them at last."); March 30, 1858 ("I do not remember that I ever hear this frog in the river or ponds. They seem to be an early frog, peculiar to pools and small ponds in the woods and fields."); March 31, 1855 (“I go listening for the croak of the first frog, or peep of a hylodes."); March 31, 1857 (“As I rise the east side of the Hill, I hear the distant faint peep of hylodes and the tut tut of croaking frogs from the west of the Hill.”); April 13, 1856 ("As I go by the Andromeda Ponds, I hear the tut tut of a few croaking frogs,"); See also April 18, 1856 ("Walden is open entirely to-day for the first time.") and A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Wood Frog (Rana sylvatica)
On this mild spring day
my life partakes of bluebirds
and infinity.
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 © 2009-2021
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