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
Landscape nearly bare
distant mountains white with snow—
song sparrow’s first song.
Fair weather after three rainy days. March 11, 1854
P. M. — To Annursnack. Clear and rather pleasant; the ground again bare; wind northerly. March 11, 1855
P. M.—3.30, thermometer 24°. Cut a hole in the ice in the middle of Walden. . . . Snow and ice together make a curtain twenty-eight inches thick now drawn over the pond. March 11, 1856
2 p.m. — About 40°. It is cold and blustering walking in the wind, though the thermometer is at 40; i. e., though the temperature is thus high, the strong and blustering northwest winds of March make this notorious March weather, which is worse to bear than severe cold without wind. March 11, 1860
The farmers say that there is nothing equal to the March winds for drying wood. It will dry more this month than it has in all the winter before. March 11, 1860
I am surprised to see how rapidly that ice that covered the meadows on the 1st of March has disappeared under the influence of the sun alone. March 11, 1855
From the hill the river and meadow is about equally water and ice, — rich blue water and islands or continents of white ice — no longer ice in place — blown from this side or that. March 11, 1854
The greater part of what then lay on the meadows a foot thick has melted—two thirds at least. March 11, 1855
The water is now high on the meadows and there is no ice there, owing to the recent heavy rains. March 11, 1861
Water that has been so long detained on the hills and uplands by frost is now rapidly finding its level in the ocean. March 11, 1852
All lakes without outlet are oceans, larger or smaller. March 11, 1852
As I sit at the base of Annursnack the earth appears almost completely bare, but from the top I see considerable white ice here and there. . . only observed from a height. March 11, 1855
The distant mountains are all white with snow while our landscape is nearly bare. March 11, 1854
Air full of birds, — bluebirds, song sparrows, chickadee (phoebe notes), and blackbirds. March 11, 1854
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 11, 1859
A bluebird day before yesterday in Stow. March 11, 1855
Bluebirds' warbling curls in elms. March 11, 1854
On Tuesday, the 7th, I heard the first song sparrow chirp, and saw it flit silently from alder to alder. March 11, 1854
This pleasant morning after three days' rain and mist, they generally forth burst into sprayey song from the low trees along the river. March 11, 1854
Song sparrows toward the water, with at least two kinds or variations of their strain hard to imitate. March 11, 1854
The developing of their song is gradual but sure, like the expanding of a flower. This is the first song I have heard. March 11, 1854
By riverside I hear the song of many song sparrows, the most of a song of any yet. . . .The birds anticipate the spring; they come to melt the ice with their songs. March 11, 1859
I believe that I saw blackbirds yesterday. March 11, 1852
And on the swamp white oak top by the stone bridge, I see and hear a red-wing. March 11, 1859
It sings almost steadily on its perch there, sitting all alone, as if to attract companions . . .calling the river to life and tempting ice to melt and trickle like its own sprayey notes. March 11, 1859
Another flies over on high, with a tchuck and at length a clear whistle. March 11, 1859
And I see two more, also solitary, on different tree-tops within a quarter of a mile.
The birds anticipate the spring; they come to melt the ice with their songs. March 11, 1859
C. says that Walden is almost entirely open to-day, so that the lines on my map would not strike any ice, but that there is ice in the deep cove. March 11, 1861
It will be open then the 12th or 13th. March 11, 1861
This is earlier than I ever knew it to open. March 11, 1861
Fair Haven was solid ice two or three days ago, and probably is still, and Goose Pond is to - day all ice. March 11, 1861
The ice in [White Pond] is soft on the surface, but it is still more than a foot thick. March 11, 1852
Why, then, should Walden have broken up thus early? for it froze over early and the winter was steadily cold up to February at least. March 11, 1861
According to all accounts there has been no skating on Walden the past winter on account of the snow. It was unusually covered with snow. March 11, 1861
I infer that, if it has broken up thus early, it must be because the ice was thin, and that it was thin not for want of cold generally, but because of the abundance of snow which lay on it. March 11, 1861
Song sparrows toward the water, with at least two kinds or variations of their strain hard to imitate. March 11, 1854
The developing of their song is gradual but sure, like the expanding of a flower. This is the first song I have heard. March 11, 1854
By riverside I hear the song of many song sparrows, the most of a song of any yet. . . .The birds anticipate the spring; they come to melt the ice with their songs. March 11, 1859
I believe that I saw blackbirds yesterday. March 11, 1852
And on the swamp white oak top by the stone bridge, I see and hear a red-wing. March 11, 1859
It sings almost steadily on its perch there, sitting all alone, as if to attract companions . . .calling the river to life and tempting ice to melt and trickle like its own sprayey notes. March 11, 1859
Another flies over on high, with a tchuck and at length a clear whistle. March 11, 1859
And I see two more, also solitary, on different tree-tops within a quarter of a mile.
The birds anticipate the spring; they come to melt the ice with their songs. March 11, 1859
C. says that Walden is almost entirely open to-day, so that the lines on my map would not strike any ice, but that there is ice in the deep cove. March 11, 1861
It will be open then the 12th or 13th. March 11, 1861
This is earlier than I ever knew it to open. March 11, 1861
Fair Haven was solid ice two or three days ago, and probably is still, and Goose Pond is to - day all ice. March 11, 1861
The ice in [White Pond] is soft on the surface, but it is still more than a foot thick. March 11, 1852
Why, then, should Walden have broken up thus early? for it froze over early and the winter was steadily cold up to February at least. March 11, 1861
According to all accounts there has been no skating on Walden the past winter on account of the snow. It was unusually covered with snow. March 11, 1861
I infer that, if it has broken up thus early, it must be because the ice was thin, and that it was thin not for want of cold generally, but because of the abundance of snow which lay on it. March 11, 1861
C. observes where mice (?) have gnawed the pitch pines the past winter. Is not this a phenomenon of a winter of deep snow only? . . . I do not commonly observe it on a large scale. March 11, 1861
I see a woodchuck out on the calm side of Lee's Hill (Nawshawtuct). March 11, 1860
He has pushed away the withered leaves which filled his hole and come forth, and left his tracks in those slight patches of the recent snow which are left about his hole. March 11, 1860
I was amused with the behavior of two red squirrels as I approached the hemlocks. March 11, 1860
I at first heard a faint, sharp chirp like a bird, within the hemlock, on my account, and then one rushed forward on a descending limb toward me, barking or chirruping at me after his fashion, within a rod. March 11, 1860
They seemed to vie with one another who should be most bold.
I see a woodchuck out on the calm side of Lee's Hill (Nawshawtuct). March 11, 1860
He has pushed away the withered leaves which filled his hole and come forth, and left his tracks in those slight patches of the recent snow which are left about his hole. March 11, 1860
I was amused with the behavior of two red squirrels as I approached the hemlocks. March 11, 1860
I at first heard a faint, sharp chirp like a bird, within the hemlock, on my account, and then one rushed forward on a descending limb toward me, barking or chirruping at me after his fashion, within a rod. March 11, 1860
They seemed to vie with one another who should be most bold.
For four or five minutes at least, they kept up an incessant chirruping or squeaking bark, vibrating their tails and their whole bodies and frequently changing their position or point of view, making a show of rushing forward, or perhaps darting off a few feet like lightning and barking still more loudly, i. e. with a yet sharper exclamation, as if frightened by their own motions; their whole bodies quivering, their heads and great eyes on the qui vive. March 11, 1860
You are uncertain whether it is not half in sport after all. March 11, 1860
They were as gray as red, and white beneath. March 11, 1860
Many of those dirty-white millers or ephemera in the air. March 11, 1855
I see pitch pine needles looking as if whitewashed, thickly covered on each of the two slopes of the needle with narrow, white, oyster-shell-like latebra or chrysalids of an insect. March 11, 1855
At this season, — before grass springs to conceal them, — I notice those pretty little roundish shells on the tops of hills; one to-day on Annursnack. March 11, 1855
That dull-gray-barked willow shows the silvery down of its forthcoming catkins. March 11, 1852
The woods I walked in in my youth are cut off. Is it not time that I ceased to sing? My groves are invaded. March 11, 1852
If these fields and streams and woods, the phenomena of nature here, and the simple occupations of the inhabitants should cease to interest and inspire me, no culture or wealth would atone for the loss. March 11, 1856
I wish so to live ever as to derive my satisfactions and inspirations from the commonest events, every-day phenomena, so that what my senses hourly perceive, my daily walk, the conversation of my neighbors, may inspire me, and I may dream of no heaven but that which lies about me. March 11, 1856
Only that travelling is good which reveals to me the value of home and enables me to enjoy it better. March 11, 1856
*****
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Mountains in the Horizon
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, March in Haiku
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Bluebird in Spring.
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Chickadee in Winter
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Red-wing in Spring
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Song Sparrow (Fringilla melodia)
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Ice-out
*****
March 3, 1855 (“I see a dirty-white miller fluttering about over the winter-rye patch next to Hubbard’s Grove. ”)
March 5, 1857 ("See the tracks of a woodchuck in the sand-heap about the mouth of his hole, where he has cleared out his entry.")
March 6, 1854 (" Hear and see the first blackbird, flying east over the Deep Cut, with a tchuck, tchuck, and finally a split whistle.")
March 7, 1859 ("On the Hill I hear first the tapping of a small woodpecker.")
March 8, 1853(" I look into the placid reflecting water for the signs and promise of the morrow . . . That dark-blue meadowy revelation.")
March 10, 1852 ("Hear the phoebe note of the chickadee to-day for the first time. . . I find that they too have become spring birds; they have changed their note. Even they feel the influence of spring. ")
March 10, 1855 ("You are always surprised by the sight of the first spring bird or insect; they seem premature, and there is no such evidence of spring as themselves, so that they literally fetch the year about. ")
March 10, 1856 ("A biting northwest wind compels to cover the ears. It is one of the hardest days of the year to bear. Truly a memorable 10th of March")
I hear the warble of my first Concord bluebird, borne to me from the hill through the still March 10, 1859("morning air, and, looking up, I see him plainly, though so far away, a dark speck in the top of a walnut.. . . The bluebird on the apple tree, warbling so innocently to inquire if any of its mates are within call, — the angel of the spring!")
March 12, 1854 ("This is the blackbird morning. Their sprayey notes and conqueree ring with the song sparrows' jingle all along the river. Thus gradually they acquire confidence to sing. It is a beautiful spring morning")
March 12, 1859 ("There are many other insects and worms and caterpillars (and especially spiders, dead) on the ice, there as well as elsewhere . . . . May not this have tempted the bluebirds on early this year? ")
March 12, 1860 (" It is the wind of March that makes it unpleasant often, and to seem much colder than it is")
March 13, 1855 ("I hear the rapid tapping of the woodpecker from over the water.")
March 15, 1860 ("I see to-day in two places, in mud and in snow, what I have no doubt is the track of the woodchuck that has lately been out")
March 11, 2022
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, March 11
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 © 2009-2024
tinyurl.com/hdt11march
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