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
The bird-like birch scales
blown into the hollows of
the thin crusted snow.
December 4, 1856
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| December 4, 2017 |
7.30 a. m. — Take a run down the riverside. December 4, 1856
Fair Haven Pond is now open, and there is no snow. December 4, 1850
The coldest day yet, clear with considerable wind, after the first cloudless morning for a week or two. December 4, 1853
A pleasant day and yet no snow nor ice. December 4, 1855
A pleasant day and yet no snow nor ice. December 4, 1855
Ceased raining and mizzling last evening, and cleared off, with a high northwest wind, which shook the house, coming in fitful gusts, but only they who slept on the west sides of houses knew of it. December 4, 1856
Awake to winter, and snow two or three inches deep, the first of any consequence. December 4, 1859
The first snow, four or five inches, this evening. December 4, 1860
The first snow, four or five inches, this evening. December 4, 1860
Dark waves are chasing each other across the river from northwest to southeast and breaking the edge of the snow ice which has formed for half a rod in width along the edge, and the fragments of broken ice, what arctic voyagers call "brash," carry forward the undulation. December 4, 1856
The northeast sides of the trees are thickly incrusted with snowy shields, visible afar, the snow was so damp (at Boston it turned to rain). December 4, 1854
This had none of the dry delicate powdery beauties of a common first snow. December 4, 1854
Flint's Pond only skimmed a little at the shore, like the river. December 4, 1853
Goose Pond apparently froze over last night, all but a few rods, but not thick enough to bear. December 4, 1853
The ice of Goose Pond already has a dusty look. It shows the crystals distinctly. December 4, 1853
The snow has now settled, owing to the rain, . . ., and there is a slight crust to it. December 4, 1856
It is remarkably good sleighing to-day, considering the little snow and the rain of yesterday, but it is slippery and hobbly for walkers. December 4, 1856
Scare up a few sparrows, which take shelter in Keyes's arborvitae row. December 4, 1856
An F. hyemalis also. December 4, 1856
I notice that the swallow-holes in the bank . . . which is partly washed away. December 4, 1856
Goose Pond apparently froze over last night, all but a few rods, but not thick enough to bear. December 4, 1853
The ice of Goose Pond already has a dusty look. It shows the crystals distinctly. December 4, 1853
The snow has now settled, owing to the rain, . . ., and there is a slight crust to it. December 4, 1856
It is remarkably good sleighing to-day, considering the little snow and the rain of yesterday, but it is slippery and hobbly for walkers. December 4, 1856
Scare up a few sparrows, which take shelter in Keyes's arborvitae row. December 4, 1856
An F. hyemalis also. December 4, 1856
I notice that the swallow-holes in the bank . . . which is partly washed away. December 4, 1856
So bountiful a table is spread for the birds. December 4, 1856
How many thousand acres are there now of pitchered blue-curls and ragged wormwood rising above the shallow snow? . . .the first snow comes and reveals them. December 4, 1856
Then I come to fields in which the fragrant everlasting, straw-colored and almost odorless, and the dark taller St. John's-wort prevail. December 4, 1856
The granary of the birds. December 4, 1856
Saw and heard cheep faintly one little tree sparrow, the neat chestnut crowned and winged and white-barred bird, perched on a large and solitary white birch. So clean and tough, made to withstand the winter. December 4, 1856
This color reminds me of the upper side of the shrub oak leaf. December 4, 1856
The shrub oak fire burns briskly as seen from the Cliffs. December 4, 1850
The younger osiers on Shattuck’s row do shine. December 4, 1855
In the sprout-land by the road, in the woods. . . much gray goldenrod is mixed with the shrub oak. December 4, 1856
It reminds me of the color of the rabbits which run there. December 4, 1856
I love the few homely colors of Nature at this season, — her strong wholesome browns, her sober and primeval grays, her celestial blue, her vivacious green, her pure, cold, snowy white. December 4, 1856
We have [the greatest variety] in the colors of the withered oak leaves. The white, so curled and shrivelled and pale; the black (?), more flat and glossy and darker brown; the red, much like the black, but perhaps less dark, and less deeply cut. The scarlet still occasionally retains some blood in its veins. December 4, 1856
Smooth white reaches of ice, as long as the river, on each side are threatening to bridge over its dark-blue artery any night. December 4, 1856
Though the sun is now an hour high, there is a peculiar bright light on the pines and on their stems. The lichens on their bark reflect it. December 4, 1850
From year to year we look at Nature with new eyes. December 4, 1856
March 14, 1855 (“I observe the tracks of sparrows leading to every little sprig of blue-curls amid the other weeds which (its seemingly empty pitchers) rises above the snow. There seems, however, to be a little seed left in them. This, then, is reason enough why these withered stems still stand, - that they may raise these granaries above the snow for the use of the snowbirds.”)
October 22, 1858 ("I see, from the Cliffs, that color has run through the shrub oak plain like a fire or a wave, not omitting a single tree")
December 3, 1853 ("Saw two tree sparrows . . . busily and very adroitly picking the seeds out of the larch cones. ")
December 3, 1854 ("The first snow of consequence fell in the evening, very damp (wind northeast); five or six inches deep in morning.”)
December 3, 1854 ("Snowbirds in garden in the midst of the snow in the afternoon.")
December 3, 1855 ("A pleasant day. No snow yet . . . nor do I see any ice to speak of. ")
December 3, 1858 ("A deliciously mild afternoon, though the ground is covered with snow.")
December 5, 1853 ("Fair Haven Pond is skimmed completely over.")
December 5, 1853 ("The river frozen over thinly in most places and whitened with snow, which was sprinkled on it this noon.")
December 5, 1854 ("Probably river skimmed over in some places. ")
December 5, 1856 ("The river is well skimmed over in most places. ")
December 5, 1856 ("Clear, cold winter weather.")
December 5, 1856 ("I love best to have each thing in its season only, and enjoy doing without it at all other times.")
December 5, 1856 ("The johnswort and the larger pinweed are conspicuous above the snow.")
December 5, 1858 ("The stiffened ice-coated weeds and grasses on the causeway recall past winters.")
December 18, 1852 ("The crust of the slight snow covered in some woods with the scales (bird-shaped) of the birch, and their seeds.");
December 21, 1855 ("A few simple colors now prevail.”);
December 26, 1853 ("The first snow of any consequence thus far. It is about three inches deep.”);
December 26, 1857 ("Snows all day, — first snow of any consequence, three or four inches in all.")
December 28, 1856 ("Am surprised to see the F. hyemalis here");
December 29, 1856 (". Do not the F. hyemalis, lingering yet, and the numerous tree sparrows foretell an open winter?")
December 30, 1855 ("For a few days I have noticed the snow sprinkled with alder and birch scales. I go now through the birch meadow southwest of the Rock. The high wind is scattering them over the snow there.")
December 31, 1854 ("The shadows on the snow are indigo-blue. The pines look very dark. The white oak leaves are a cinnamon-color, the black and red oak leaves a reddish brown or leather-color.’)
December 31, 1851 ("The round greenish-yellow lichens on the white pines loom through the mist. . . . They eclipse the trees they cover.")
It is an important relief to the eyes which have long rested on snow to rest on brown oak leaves and the bark of trees. December 4, 1856
We have [the greatest variety] in the colors of the withered oak leaves. The white, so curled and shrivelled and pale; the black (?), more flat and glossy and darker brown; the red, much like the black, but perhaps less dark, and less deeply cut. The scarlet still occasionally retains some blood in its veins. December 4, 1856
The evergreens are greener than ever. December 4, 1850
It is a close contest between day and night, heat and cold. December 4, 1856
I see where the pretty brown bird-like birch scales and winged seeds have been blown into the numerous hollows of the thin crusted snow. December 4, 1856
I see where the pretty brown bird-like birch scales and winged seeds have been blown into the numerous hollows of the thin crusted snow. December 4, 1856
In the horizon I see a succession of the brows of hills, bare or covered with wood, -- look over the eyebrows of the recumbent earth. These are separated by long valleys filled with vapory haze. December 4, 1850
If there is a little more warmth than usual at this season, then the beautiful air which belongs to winter is perceived and appreciated. December 4, 1850
If there is a little more warmth than usual at this season, then the beautiful air which belongs to winter is perceived and appreciated. December 4, 1850
Though the sun is now an hour high, there is a peculiar bright light on the pines and on their stems. The lichens on their bark reflect it. December 4, 1850
Nature feeds her children chiefly with color. December 4, 1856
From year to year we look at Nature with new eyes. December 4, 1856
It is a beautiful, almost Indian-summer, afternoon. December 4, 1850
*****
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Aromatic Herbs
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, St. Johns-wort (Hypericum)
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Blue-Curls
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Shrub Oak
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Birches in Season
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Winter Birds
A Book of the Seasons by Henry Thoreau, the Dark-eyed Junco (Fringilla hyemalis)
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Indian Summer
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, First Ice
*****
March 14, 1855 (“I observe the tracks of sparrows leading to every little sprig of blue-curls amid the other weeds which (its seemingly empty pitchers) rises above the snow. There seems, however, to be a little seed left in them. This, then, is reason enough why these withered stems still stand, - that they may raise these granaries above the snow for the use of the snowbirds.”)
October 22, 1858 ("I see, from the Cliffs, that color has run through the shrub oak plain like a fire or a wave, not omitting a single tree")
October 30, 1853 ("When the forest and fields put on their sober winter hue, we begin to look more to the sunset for color and variety.")
November 1, 1857 ("I see that the sun, when low, will shine into a thick wood, which you had supposed always dark, as much as twenty rods, lighting it all up, making the gray, lichen-clad stems of the trees all warm and bright with light");
November 12, 1859 ("The first sprinkling of snow, which for a short time whitens the ground in spots.”)
November 18, 1855 ("Now first mark the stubble and numerous withered weeds rising above the snow. They have suddenly acquired a new character. “);
November 25, 1850 (“I found Fair Haven skimmed entirely over. . . ice on the water and winter in the air, but yet not a particle of snow on the ground")
November 25, 1850 (“This afternoon the air was indescribably clear and exhilarating, and though the thermometer would have shown it to be cold, I thought that there was a finer and purer warmth . . .The landscape looked singularly clean and pure and dry, the air, like a pure glass, being laid over the picture. . . ice on the water and winter in the air“)
November 29, 1856 ("This is the first snow.”)
November 30, 1856 (“Now see the empty chalices of the blue-curls and the rich brown-fruited pinweed above the crust.”)
November 30, 1853 ("An abundance of withered sedges and other coarse grasses, which in the summer you scarcely noticed, now cover the low grounds, -- the granary of the winter birds.")
November 1, 1857 ("I see that the sun, when low, will shine into a thick wood, which you had supposed always dark, as much as twenty rods, lighting it all up, making the gray, lichen-clad stems of the trees all warm and bright with light");
November 12, 1859 ("The first sprinkling of snow, which for a short time whitens the ground in spots.”)
November 18, 1855 ("Now first mark the stubble and numerous withered weeds rising above the snow. They have suddenly acquired a new character. “);
November 25, 1850 (“I found Fair Haven skimmed entirely over. . . ice on the water and winter in the air, but yet not a particle of snow on the ground")
November 25, 1850 (“This afternoon the air was indescribably clear and exhilarating, and though the thermometer would have shown it to be cold, I thought that there was a finer and purer warmth . . .The landscape looked singularly clean and pure and dry, the air, like a pure glass, being laid over the picture. . . ice on the water and winter in the air“)
November 29, 1856 ("This is the first snow.”)
November 30, 1856 (“Now see the empty chalices of the blue-curls and the rich brown-fruited pinweed above the crust.”)
November 30, 1853 ("An abundance of withered sedges and other coarse grasses, which in the summer you scarcely noticed, now cover the low grounds, -- the granary of the winter birds.")
December 1, 1856 (“The blue-curls' chalices stand empty, and waiting evidently to be filled with ice.”)
December 1. 1856 ("The shrub oak, lowly, loving the earth and spreading over it, tough, thick-leaved; leaves firm and sound in winter and rustling like leather shields; leaves fair and wholesome to the eye, clean and smooth to the touch")
December 2, 1857 ("Measuring Little Goose Pond, I observed two painted tortoises moving about under the thin transparent ice”)
December 3, 1853 ("Look at the fields, russet and withered, and the various sedges and weeds with dry bleached culms.")December 1. 1856 ("The shrub oak, lowly, loving the earth and spreading over it, tough, thick-leaved; leaves firm and sound in winter and rustling like leather shields; leaves fair and wholesome to the eye, clean and smooth to the touch")
December 2, 1857 ("Measuring Little Goose Pond, I observed two painted tortoises moving about under the thin transparent ice”)
December 3, 1853 ("Saw two tree sparrows . . . busily and very adroitly picking the seeds out of the larch cones. ")
December 3, 1854 ("The first snow of consequence fell in the evening, very damp (wind northeast); five or six inches deep in morning.”)
December 3, 1854 ("Snowbirds in garden in the midst of the snow in the afternoon.")
December 3, 1855 ("A pleasant day. No snow yet . . . nor do I see any ice to speak of. ")
December 3, 1858 ("A deliciously mild afternoon, though the ground is covered with snow.")
Smooth white reaches of
ice as long as the river's
dark-blue artery.
December 4, 1856
Dark waves chasing each
other across the river –
breaking the snow ice.
December 4, 1856
December 5, 1853 ("Fair Haven Pond is skimmed completely over.")
December 5, 1853 ("The river frozen over thinly in most places and whitened with snow, which was sprinkled on it this noon.")
December 5, 1854 ("Probably river skimmed over in some places. ")
December 5, 1856 ("The river is well skimmed over in most places. ")
December 5, 1856 ("Clear, cold winter weather.")
December 5, 1856 ("I love best to have each thing in its season only, and enjoy doing without it at all other times.")
December 5, 1856 ("The johnswort and the larger pinweed are conspicuous above the snow.")
December 5, 1858 ("The stiffened ice-coated weeds and grasses on the causeway recall past winters.")
December 5, 1858 ("Snowed yesterday afternoon, and now it is three or four inches deep.")
December 7, 1852 ("Perhaps the warmest day yet. True Indian summer.")
December 8, 1850 ("A week or two ago Fair Haven Pond was frozen and the ground was still bare. Now the Pond is open and ground is covered with snow and ice. This evening for the first time the new moon is reflected from the frozen snow-crust.") December 8, 1854 ("How black the water where the river is open when I look from the light, by contrast with the surrounding white, the ice and snow!")
December 11, 1855 ("The incredible phenomenon of small birds in winter. There is no question about the existence of these delicate creatures, their adaptedness to their circumstances.")
December 11, 1855 ("The incredible phenomenon of small birds in winter. There is no question about the existence of these delicate creatures, their adaptedness to their circumstances.")
December 8, 1852 ("Another Indian-summer day.")
December 11, 1853 (" Almost a complete Indian-summer day, clear and warm.")
December 13, 1857 ("This and the like ponds are just covered with virgin ice just thick enough to bear,. . . I see those same two tortoises (of Dec. 2d), moving about in the same place under the ice, which I can not crack with my feet.”)December 14, 1851 ("The now dry and empty but clean-washed cups of the blue-curls spot the half snow-covered grain-fields. ")
December 14, 1852 ("The dried chalices of the Rhexia Virginica stand above the snow, and the cups of the blue-curls. ")
December 17, 1856 ("That feeble cheep of the tree sparrow, like the tinkling of an icicle, or the chafing of two hard shrub oak twigs, is probably a call to their mates, by which they keep together. These birds, when perched, look larger than usual this cold and windy day; they are puffed up for warmth, have added a porch to their doors.") December 18, 1852 ("The crust of the slight snow covered in some woods with the scales (bird-shaped) of the birch, and their seeds.");
December 21, 1855 ("A few simple colors now prevail.”);
December 26, 1853 ("The first snow of any consequence thus far. It is about three inches deep.”);
December 26, 1857 ("Snows all day, — first snow of any consequence, three or four inches in all.")
December 28, 1856 ("Am surprised to see the F. hyemalis here");
December 29, 1856 (". Do not the F. hyemalis, lingering yet, and the numerous tree sparrows foretell an open winter?")
December 30, 1855 ("For a few days I have noticed the snow sprinkled with alder and birch scales. I go now through the birch meadow southwest of the Rock. The high wind is scattering them over the snow there.")
December 31, 1854 ("The shadows on the snow are indigo-blue. The pines look very dark. The white oak leaves are a cinnamon-color, the black and red oak leaves a reddish brown or leather-color.’)
December 31, 1851 ("The round greenish-yellow lichens on the white pines loom through the mist. . . . They eclipse the trees they cover.")
The tree sparrow comes
from the north in the winter
to get its dinner
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, December 4
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
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