December 23.
December 23, 2021
Here is an old-fashioned snow-storm.
There is not much passing on railroads. The engineer says it is three feet deep above.
Walden is frozen, one third of it, though I thought it was all frozen as I stood on the shore on one side only.
There is no track on the Walden road. A traveller might cross it in the woods and not be sure it was a road.
As I pass the farmers' houses I observe the cop [sic] of the sled propped up with a stick to prevent its freezing into the snow.
The needles of the pines are drooping like cockerels' feathers after a rain, and frozen together by the sleety snow.
The pitch pines now bear their snowy fruit.
I can discern a faint foot or sled path sooner when the ground is covered with snow than when it is bare. The depression caused by the feet or the wheels is more obvious; perhaps the light and shade betray it, but I think it is mainly because the grass and weeds rise above it on each side and leave it blank, and a blank space of snow contrasts more strongly with the woods or grass than bare or beaten ground.
Even the surface of the snow is wont to be in waves like billows of the ocean.
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, December 23, 1850
Old-fashioned snow-storm. The surface of the snow is wont to be in waves like billows of the ocean See
December 23, 1851 ("A pure and trackless white napkin covers the ground,"); See also
December 14, 1859 ("Snow-storms might be classified.");
December 27, 1853 ("The snow blows like spray, fifteen feet high, across the fields, while the wind roars in the trees as in the rigging of a vessel. It is altogether like the ocean in a storm");
January 9, 1859 ("The surface of the snow is in great waves whose ridges run from east to west, about a rod apart, or generally less, — say ten feet, — low and gentle swells");
February 10, 1855 ("Billows of snow succeed each other across the fields and roads, like an ocean waste.") and
February 1, 1856 ("It has been what is called “an old-fashioned winter.”")
Walden is frozen, one third of it, though I thought it was all frozen as I stood on the shore on one side only. See
December 26, 1850 ("Walden not yet more than half frozen over.");
December 31, 1850 ("Walden pond has frozen over since I was there last.") See also
December 23, 1845 ("The pond froze over last night entirely for the first time, yet so as not to be safe to walk upon”) and
December 11, 1858 ("Walden is about one-third skimmed over."); December 20, 1858 ("Walden is frozen over, except two small spots, less than half an acre in all, in middle")';
December 21, 1854 "Walden is frozen over, apparently about two inches thick. It must have frozen, the whole of it, since the snow of the 18th,-— probably the night of the 18th");
December 21, 1855 (“Walden is skimmed over, all but an acre, in my cove.”);
December 21, 1856 ("The pond is open again in the middle, owing to the rain of yesterday.")
December 22, 1858 (“The pond is no more frozen than on the 20th.”);
December 22, 1853 ("Walden skimmed over in the widest part, but some acres still open; will probably freeze entirely to-night if this weather holds.”);
December 24, 1856 ("Am surprised to find Walden still open in the middle.”);
December 24, 1859 ("There is, in all, an acre or two in Walden not yet frozen, though half of it has been frozen more than a week");
December 24, 1858 ("Those two places in middle of Walden not frozen over yet, though it was quite cold last night! ");
December 25, 1858 ("Walden at length skimmed over last night, i. e. the two holes that remained open. One was very near the middle and deepest part, the other between that and the railroad.”);
December 26, 1853 ("Walden still open.. . . the only pond hereabouts that is open.");
December 27, 1852 ("Not a particle of ice in Walden to-day. Paddled across it.);
December 27, 1856 "Walden is still open in one place of considerable extent, just off the east cape of long southern bay.");.
December 27, 1857 ("Walden is almost entirely skimmed over. It will probably be completely frozen over to-night");.
December 28, 1858 (“The ice is about six inches thick.”)
December 28, 1856 ("Walden completely frozen over again last night.");
December 29, 1855 ("Am surprised to find eight or ten acres of Walden still open,. . .It must be owing to the wind partly.");
December 30, 1853 ("The pond not yet frozen entirely over; about six acres open, the wind blew so hard last night.
");
December 30, 1855 ("There was yesterday eight or ten acres of open water at the west end of Walden, where is depth and breadth combined");
December 31, 1853 ("Walden froze completely over last night. It is, however, all snow ice, as it froze while it was snowing hard, and it looks like frozen yeast somewhat.”)
The needles of the pines are drooping like cockerels' feathers after a rain, and frozen together by the sleety snow. See
December 23, 1859 ("I noticed on the 18th that the plumes of the pine which had been covered with snow and glaze and were then thawed and wet with the mist and rain were very much contracted or narrowed, — and this gave a peculiar and more open character to the tree.")
The pitch pines now bear their snowy fruit. See
December 17, 1851 ("The pitch pines hold the snow well. It lies now in balls on their plumes and in streaks on their branches.");.
January 19, 1855 ("On some pitch pines it lay in fruit-like balls as big as one’s head, like cocoanuts."):
January 30, 1841 ("The snow collects upon the plumes of the pitch pine in the form of a pineapple.")
I can discern a faint foot or sled path sooner when the ground is covered with snow than when it is bare. See November 24, 1858 ("I can not only distinguish plowed fields — regular white squares in the midst of russet — but even cart-paths, and foot or cow paths a quarter of a mile long, as I look across to Conantum.");
December 16, 1857 ("Plowed grounds show white first.");
February 16, 1854 ("That Indian trail on the hillside about Walden is revealed with remarkable distinctness to me standing on the middle of the pond, by the slight snow which had lodged on it forming a clear white line unobscured by weeds and twigs. (For snow is a great revealer not only of tracks made in itself, but even in the earth before it fell.) It is quite distinct in many places where you would not have noticed it before. A light snow will often reveal a faint foot or cart track in a field which was hardly discernible before, for it reprints it, as it were, in clear white type, alto-relievo.”)
"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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