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.
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, March 9, 1852:
These March winds, which make the woods roar and fill the world with life and bustle, appear to wake up the trees out of their winter sleep and excite the sap to flow. See March 9, 1859 ("It is worthwhile to hear the wind roar in the woods to-day. It sounds further off than it is."); March 9, 1860 ("You incline to walk now along the south side of hills which will shelter you from the blustering northwest and north winds"); See also March 6, 1855 ("Still stronger wind, shaking the house, and rather cool. This the third day of wind."); March 18, 1854 ("The white caps of the waves on the flooded meadow, seen from the window, are a rare and exciting spectacle")
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, March 9, 1853:
I do not perceive that the early elm or the white maple buds have swollen yet. See March 23, 1853 (“The white maple may perhaps be said to begin to blossom to-day, — the male, — for the stamens, both anthers and filament, are conspicuous on some buds. It has opened unexpectedly, and a rich sight it is, looking up through the expanded buds to the sky.”); March 29, 1853 ("The female flowers of the white maple , crimson stigmas from the same rounded masses of buds with the male , are now quite abundant. I think they have not come out more than a day or two.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, White Maple Buds and Flowers
These March winds, which make the woods roar and fill the world with life and bustle, appear to wake up the trees out of their winter sleep and excite the sap to flow. See March 9, 1859 ("It is worthwhile to hear the wind roar in the woods to-day. It sounds further off than it is."); March 9, 1860 ("You incline to walk now along the south side of hills which will shelter you from the blustering northwest and north winds"); See also March 6, 1855 ("Still stronger wind, shaking the house, and rather cool. This the third day of wind."); March 18, 1854 ("The white caps of the waves on the flooded meadow, seen from the window, are a rare and exciting spectacle")
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, March 9, 1853:
I do not perceive that the early elm or the white maple buds have swollen yet. See March 23, 1853 (“The white maple may perhaps be said to begin to blossom to-day, — the male, — for the stamens, both anthers and filament, are conspicuous on some buds. It has opened unexpectedly, and a rich sight it is, looking up through the expanded buds to the sky.”); March 29, 1853 ("The female flowers of the white maple , crimson stigmas from the same rounded masses of buds with the male , are now quite abundant. I think they have not come out more than a day or two.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, White Maple Buds and Flowers
The relaxed and loosened (?) alder catkins and the extended willow catkins and poplar catkins are the first signs of reviving vegetation. See March 7, 1853 ("The dark chocolate-colored alder catkins — what I have called A. incana — are not only relaxed, but there is an obvious looseness and space between the scales. "); March 10, 1853 ("Methinks the first obvious evidence of spring is the pushing out of the swamp willow catkins, then the relaxing of the earlier alder catkins, then the pushing up of skunk-cabbage spathes (and pads at the bottom of water). This is the order I am inclined to, though perhaps any of these may take precedence of all the rest in any particular case . . . The early poplars are pushing forward their catkins , though they make not so much display as the willows . . . "); March 29, 1853 ("The catkins of the Populus tremuloides are just beginning to open, — to curl over and downward like caterpillars. Yesterday proved too cold, undoubtedly, for the willow to open, and unless I learn better, I shall give the poplar the precedence, dating both, however, from to-day.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Alders
The bark of the striped squirrel is the, or a, first sure sign of decided spring weather. See March 4, 1855 ("May not this season of springlike weather between the first decidedly springlike day and the first blue bird, already fourteen days long, be called the striped squirrel spring?"); March 7, 1855 ("In a sheltered and warmer place, we heard a rustling amid the dry leaves on the hillside and saw a striped squirrel eying us from its resting-place on the bare ground. It sat still till we were within a rod, then suddenly dived into its hole, which was at its feet, and disappeared. The first pleasant days of spring come out like a squirrel and go in again."); March 17, 1859 ("I hear rustling amid the oak leaves above that new water-line, and, there being no wind, I know it to be a striped squirrel, and soon see its long-unseen striped sides flirting about the instep of an oak. Its lateral stripes, alternate black and yellowish, are a type which I have not seen for a long time, or rather a punctuation-mark, the character to indicate where a new paragraph commences in the revolution of the seasons. ").See also Walden ("I am on the alert for the first signs of spring, to hear the chance note of some arriving bird, or the striped squirrel's chirp, for his stores must be now nearly exhausted.")
I see the reflection of the hills and woods, which for so long I have not seen. See March 8, 1853 ("Waters . . . begin to reflect, and, instead of looking into the sky, I look into the placid reflecting water for the signs and promise of the morrow.")
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, March 9, 1855:
About three inches more of snow fell last night, which, added to about five of the old, makes eight, or more than before since last spring. See March 2, 1858 ("Snowed last night and this morning, about seven inches deep, much more than during the winter, the first truly wintry-looking day so far as snow is concerned,"); March 1, 1858 ("We have just had a winter with absolutely no sleighing, which I do not find that any one distinctly remembers the like of.") Compare March 9, 1856 ("[S]ixteen inches of snow on a level in open fields, hard and dry, ice in Flint’s Pond two feet thick, and the aspect of the earth is that of the middle of January in a severe winter.")
This was the day on which they were generally observed. See March 9, 1852 (“I hear and see bluebirds, come with the warm wind.”); March 9, 1856 (“[T]his is about the date that bluebirds arrive commonly.”) See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Bluebird in Early Spring.
A true spring day, not a cloud in the sky. The earth shines, its icy armor reflecting the sun, and the rills of melting snow in the ruts shine, too. See March 8, 1853 ("The melting snow, running and sparkling down-hill in the ruts, was quite springlike."):
It is worthwhile to hear the wind roar in the woods to-day. It sounds further off than it is. See March 9, 1852 (“These March winds, which make the woods roar and fill the world with life and bustle, appear to wake up the trees out of their winter sleep and excite the sap to flow.”); March 9, 1860 ("You incline to walk now along the south side of hills which will shelter you from the blustering northwest and north winds"); March 18, 1858 ("The rather warm but strong wind now roars in the wood — as in the maple swamp — with a novel sound.”);
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, March 9, 1860:
The blustering northwest and north winds. See March 9, 1852 ("These March winds, which make the woods roar and fill the world with life and bustle, appear to wake up the trees out of their winter sleep"); March 9, 1859 ("It is worthwhile to hear the wind roar in the woods to-day."). See also note to March 8, 1860 ("Nowadays we separate the warmth of the sun from the cold of the wind and observe that the cold does not pervade all places, but being due to strong northwest winds, if we get into some sunny and sheltered nook where they do not penetrate, we quite forget how cold it is elsewhere. ")
On the alert to hear the first birds. See April 9, 1856 ("You have only to come forth each morning to be surely advertised of each newcomer into these broad meadows. [A] cunning ear detects the arrival of each new species of bird.")
I see the reflection of the hills and woods, which for so long I have not seen. See March 8, 1853 ("Waters . . . begin to reflect, and, instead of looking into the sky, I look into the placid reflecting water for the signs and promise of the morrow.")
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, March 9, 1855:
Painted the bottom of my boat. See March 8, 1855 ("This morning I got my boat out of the cellar and turned it up in the yard to let the seams open before I calk it."); and March 15, 1854 ("Paint my boat.") See also March 12, 1854 ("A new feature is being added to the landscape, and that is expanses and reaches of blue water. . . .Toward night the water becomes smooth and beautiful. Men are eager to launch their boats and paddle over the meadows. ") and A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Boat in. Boat out.
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, March 9, 1856:
This is about the date that bluebirds arrive commonly. See March 7, 1854 ("Hear the first bluebird."); March 9, 1852 (" I hear and see bluebirds, come with the warm wind."); March 9, 1859 (" C. says that he heard and saw a bluebird on the 7th, and R. W. E. the same. This was the day on which they were generally observed."); March 10, 1853 ("What was that sound that came on the softened air? It was the warble of the first bluebird from that scraggy apple orchard yonder. When this is heard, then has spring arrived."); March 10, 1856 ("A bluebird would look as much out of place now as the 10th of January. . . .It is hard to believe the records of previous years") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Bluebird in Early Spring.
This is about the date that bluebirds arrive commonly. See March 7, 1854 ("Hear the first bluebird."); March 9, 1852 (" I hear and see bluebirds, come with the warm wind."); March 9, 1859 (" C. says that he heard and saw a bluebird on the 7th, and R. W. E. the same. This was the day on which they were generally observed."); March 10, 1853 ("What was that sound that came on the softened air? It was the warble of the first bluebird from that scraggy apple orchard yonder. When this is heard, then has spring arrived."); March 10, 1856 ("A bluebird would look as much out of place now as the 10th of January. . . .It is hard to believe the records of previous years") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Bluebird in Early Spring.
About three inches more of snow fell last night, which, added to about five of the old, makes eight, or more than before since last spring. See March 2, 1858 ("Snowed last night and this morning, about seven inches deep, much more than during the winter, the first truly wintry-looking day so far as snow is concerned,"); March 1, 1858 ("We have just had a winter with absolutely no sleighing, which I do not find that any one distinctly remembers the like of.") Compare March 9, 1856 ("[S]ixteen inches of snow on a level in open fields, hard and dry, ice in Flint’s Pond two feet thick, and the aspect of the earth is that of the middle of January in a severe winter.")
This was the day on which they were generally observed. See March 9, 1852 (“I hear and see bluebirds, come with the warm wind.”); March 9, 1856 (“[T]his is about the date that bluebirds arrive commonly.”) See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Bluebird in Early Spring.
A true spring day, not a cloud in the sky. The earth shines, its icy armor reflecting the sun, and the rills of melting snow in the ruts shine, too. See March 8, 1853 ("The melting snow, running and sparkling down-hill in the ruts, was quite springlike."):
It is worthwhile to hear the wind roar in the woods to-day. It sounds further off than it is. See March 9, 1852 (“These March winds, which make the woods roar and fill the world with life and bustle, appear to wake up the trees out of their winter sleep and excite the sap to flow.”); March 9, 1860 ("You incline to walk now along the south side of hills which will shelter you from the blustering northwest and north winds"); March 18, 1858 ("The rather warm but strong wind now roars in the wood — as in the maple swamp — with a novel sound.”);
The blustering northwest and north winds. See March 9, 1852 ("These March winds, which make the woods roar and fill the world with life and bustle, appear to wake up the trees out of their winter sleep"); March 9, 1859 ("It is worthwhile to hear the wind roar in the woods to-day."). See also note to March 8, 1860 ("Nowadays we separate the warmth of the sun from the cold of the wind and observe that the cold does not pervade all places, but being due to strong northwest winds, if we get into some sunny and sheltered nook where they do not penetrate, we quite forget how cold it is elsewhere. ")
The face of nature
lit up by these reflections --
still water in spring.
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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