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
On the 13th of March,
after I had heard the bluebird,
song-sparrow, and red-wing,
the ice was still nearly a foot thick.
~ Walden
I hear the rapid
tapping of the woodpecker
over the water.
March 13, 2021
Northern lights last night. Rainbow in east this morning. March 13, 1855
I see some of my little gnats of yesterday in the morning sun, somewhat mosquito-like. March 13, 1853
Listening for early birds, I hear a faint tinkling sound in the leafless woods, as if a piece of glass rattled against a stone. March 13, 1853
6.30 A. M. . . . I hear the rapid tapping of the woodpecker from over the water. March 13, 1855
Also I hear, I am pretty sure, the cackle of a pigeon woodpecker. March 13, 1859
But what was that familiar spring sound from the pine wood across the river, a sharp vetter vetter vetter vetter, like some woodpecker, or possibly nuthatch? March 13, 1853
Yet I thought it the voice of the bird and not a tapping. March 13, 1853
7 A. M. — F. hyemalis in yard. March 13, 1859
Thermometer this morning, about 7 A. M., 2°, and the same yesterday. March 13, 1857
Quite overcast all day. Thermometer 36. March 13, 1860
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. It is in strong contrast with the last month. March 13, 1857
March 5, 1857 ("This and the last four or five days very gusty. Most of the warmth of the fire is carried off by the draught, which consumes the wood very fast, faster than a much colder but still day in winter.")
March 5, 1859 ("Going down-town this forenoon, I heard a white-bellied nuthatch on an elm within twenty feet, uttering peculiar notes and more like a song than I remember to have heard from it")
Thermometer this morning, about 7 A. M., 2°, and the same yesterday. March 13, 1857
Quite overcast all day. Thermometer 36. March 13, 1860
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. It is in strong contrast with the last month. March 13, 1857
I go to the Cliffs to hear if any new spring birds have arrived, for not only they are more sure to sing in the morning, but it is stiller and you can hear them better then. March 13, 1853
Excepting a few bluebirds and larks, no spring birds have come, apparently. The woods are still. March 13, 1853
Excepting a few bluebirds and larks, no spring birds have come, apparently. The woods are still. March 13, 1853
I hear only crows and blue jays and chickadees lisping. March 13, 1853
Going down railroad, listening intentionally, I hear, far through the notes of song sparrows (which are very numerous), the song of one or two larks. March 13, 1859
Also hearing a coarse chuck, I look up and see four blackbirds, whose size and long tails betray them crow blackbirds. March 13, 1859
I see a small flock of blackbirds flying over, some rising, others falling, yet all advancing together, one flock but many birds, some silent, others tchucking, — incessant alternation. March 13, 1859
This harmonious movement as in a dance, this agreeing to differ, makes the charm of the spectacle to me. March 13, 1859
Here again in the flight of a bird, its ricochet motion, is that undulation observed in so many materials, as in the mackerel sky. March 13, 1859
Probably grackles have been seen some days. I think I saw them on the 11th? March 13, 1859
Garfield says he saw black ducks yesterday. March 13, 1859
The river is low, very low for the season. March 13, 1855
It has been falling ever since the freshet of February 18th. March 13, 1855
Now, about sunrise, it is nearly filled with the thin, half cemented ice-crystals of the night, which the warmer temperature of day apparently has loosened. March 13, 1855
They grate against the bushes and wheel round in great fields with a slight crash and piling up. March 13, 1855
Winter-freshet ice on meadows still more lifted up and partly broken in some places. March 13, 1859
Water rising still. March 13, 1859
In some meadows I see a great many dead spiders on the ice, where apparently it has been overflowed — or rather it was the heavy rain, methinks — when they had no retreat. March 13, 1859
The broad light artery of the river (and some meadows, too) very fair in the distance from Peter’s. March 13, 1859
P. M. —To Flint’s Pond. Much warmer at last. March 13, 1856
On Flint’s Pond I cut a hole and measured . . The ice was twenty-six inches thick, thirteen and one half of it being snow ice, and the ice rose above the water two inches. March 13, 1856
This ice is as solid as at any time in the winter. Three inches of snow above. March 13, 1856
No sap flows yet from my hole in the white maple by the bridge. March 13, 1853
I am surprised to see, not only many pollywogs through the thin ice of the warm ditches, but, in still warmer, stagnant, unfrozen holes in this meadow, half a dozen small frogs, probably Rana palustris March 13, 1855
I look into many woodchucks’ holes, but as yet they are choked with leaves and there is no sign of their having come abroad. March 13, 1855
Hear a ground squirrel's sharp chirrup, which makes you start, it is so sudden; but he is probably earthed again, for I do not see him. March 13, 1859
I cannot easily forget the beauty of those terrestrial browns in the rain yesterday. March 13, 1859
The withered grass was not of that very pale hoary brown that it is to-day, now that it is dry and lifeless, but, being perfectly saturated and dripping with the rain, the whole hillside seemed to reflect a certain yellowish light, so that you looked around for the sun in the midst of the storm. March 13, 1859
All the yellow and red and leather-color in the fawn-colored weeds was more intense than at any other season. March 13, 1859
The withered ferns which fell last fall — pin weeds, sarothra, etc. — were actually a glowing brown for the same reason, being all dripping wet. March 13, 1859
The cladonias crowning the knolls had visibly expanded and erected themselves, though seen twenty rods off, and the knolls appeared swelling and bursting as with yeast. March 13, 1859
All these hues of brown were most beautifully blended, so that the earth appeared covered with the softest and most harmoniously spotted and tinted tawny fur coat of any animal. March 13, 1859
The very bare sand slopes, with only here and there a thin crusting of mosses, was [sic] a richer color than ever it is. March 13, 1859
In short, in these early spring rains, the withered herbage, thus saturated, and reflecting its brightest withered tint, seems in a certain degree to have revived, and sympathizes with the fresh greenish or yellowish or brownish lichens in its midst, which also seem to have withered. March 13, 1859
It seemed to me — and I think it may be the truth — that the abundant moisture, bringing out the highest color in the brown surface of the earth, generated a certain degree of light, which, when the rain held up a little, reminded you of the sun shining through a thick mist. March 13, 1859
Oak leaves which have sunk deep into the ice now are seen to be handsomely spotted with black (of fungi or lichens?), which spots are rarely perceived in dry weather. March 13, 1859
All that vegetable life which loves a superfluity of moisture is now rampant, cold though it is, compared with summer. March 13, 1859
Radical leaves are as bright as ever they are. March 13, 1859
The barrenest surfaces, perhaps, are the most interesting in such weather as yesterday, when the most terrene colors are seen. March 13, 1859
The wet earth and sand, and especially subsoil, are very invigorating sights. March 13, 1859
The bright catkins of the willow are the springing most generally observed. March 13, 1859
All enterprises must be self-supporting, must pay for themselves. March 13, 1853
Going down railroad, listening intentionally, I hear, far through the notes of song sparrows (which are very numerous), the song of one or two larks. March 13, 1859
Also hearing a coarse chuck, I look up and see four blackbirds, whose size and long tails betray them crow blackbirds. March 13, 1859
I see a small flock of blackbirds flying over, some rising, others falling, yet all advancing together, one flock but many birds, some silent, others tchucking, — incessant alternation. March 13, 1859
This harmonious movement as in a dance, this agreeing to differ, makes the charm of the spectacle to me. March 13, 1859
Here again in the flight of a bird, its ricochet motion, is that undulation observed in so many materials, as in the mackerel sky. March 13, 1859
Probably grackles have been seen some days. I think I saw them on the 11th? March 13, 1859
Garfield says he saw black ducks yesterday. March 13, 1859
The river is low, very low for the season. March 13, 1855
It has been falling ever since the freshet of February 18th. March 13, 1855
Now, about sunrise, it is nearly filled with the thin, half cemented ice-crystals of the night, which the warmer temperature of day apparently has loosened. March 13, 1855
They grate against the bushes and wheel round in great fields with a slight crash and piling up. March 13, 1855
Winter-freshet ice on meadows still more lifted up and partly broken in some places. March 13, 1859
Water rising still. March 13, 1859
In some meadows I see a great many dead spiders on the ice, where apparently it has been overflowed — or rather it was the heavy rain, methinks — when they had no retreat. March 13, 1859
The broad light artery of the river (and some meadows, too) very fair in the distance from Peter’s. March 13, 1859
P. M. —To Flint’s Pond. Much warmer at last. March 13, 1856
On Flint’s Pond I cut a hole and measured . . The ice was twenty-six inches thick, thirteen and one half of it being snow ice, and the ice rose above the water two inches. March 13, 1856
This ice is as solid as at any time in the winter. Three inches of snow above. March 13, 1856
No sap flows yet from my hole in the white maple by the bridge. March 13, 1853
I am surprised to see, not only many pollywogs through the thin ice of the warm ditches, but, in still warmer, stagnant, unfrozen holes in this meadow, half a dozen small frogs, probably Rana palustris March 13, 1855
I look into many woodchucks’ holes, but as yet they are choked with leaves and there is no sign of their having come abroad. March 13, 1855
Hear a ground squirrel's sharp chirrup, which makes you start, it is so sudden; but he is probably earthed again, for I do not see him. March 13, 1859
I cannot easily forget the beauty of those terrestrial browns in the rain yesterday. March 13, 1859
The withered grass was not of that very pale hoary brown that it is to-day, now that it is dry and lifeless, but, being perfectly saturated and dripping with the rain, the whole hillside seemed to reflect a certain yellowish light, so that you looked around for the sun in the midst of the storm. March 13, 1859
All the yellow and red and leather-color in the fawn-colored weeds was more intense than at any other season. March 13, 1859
The withered ferns which fell last fall — pin weeds, sarothra, etc. — were actually a glowing brown for the same reason, being all dripping wet. March 13, 1859
The cladonias crowning the knolls had visibly expanded and erected themselves, though seen twenty rods off, and the knolls appeared swelling and bursting as with yeast. March 13, 1859
All these hues of brown were most beautifully blended, so that the earth appeared covered with the softest and most harmoniously spotted and tinted tawny fur coat of any animal. March 13, 1859
The very bare sand slopes, with only here and there a thin crusting of mosses, was [sic] a richer color than ever it is. March 13, 1859
In short, in these early spring rains, the withered herbage, thus saturated, and reflecting its brightest withered tint, seems in a certain degree to have revived, and sympathizes with the fresh greenish or yellowish or brownish lichens in its midst, which also seem to have withered. March 13, 1859
It seemed to me — and I think it may be the truth — that the abundant moisture, bringing out the highest color in the brown surface of the earth, generated a certain degree of light, which, when the rain held up a little, reminded you of the sun shining through a thick mist. March 13, 1859
Oak leaves which have sunk deep into the ice now are seen to be handsomely spotted with black (of fungi or lichens?), which spots are rarely perceived in dry weather. March 13, 1859
All that vegetable life which loves a superfluity of moisture is now rampant, cold though it is, compared with summer. March 13, 1859
Radical leaves are as bright as ever they are. March 13, 1859
The barrenest surfaces, perhaps, are the most interesting in such weather as yesterday, when the most terrene colors are seen. March 13, 1859
The wet earth and sand, and especially subsoil, are very invigorating sights. March 13, 1859
The bright catkins of the willow are the springing most generally observed. March 13, 1859
All enterprises must be self-supporting, must pay for themselves. March 13, 1853
Bought a telescope to-day for eight dollars. March 13, 1854
The great art of life is how to turn the surplus life of the soul into life for the body, — that so the life be not a failure. March 13, 1853
The great art of life is how to turn the surplus life of the soul into life for the body, — that so the life be not a failure. March 13, 1853
A poet must sustain his body with his poetry. March 13, 1853
You must get your living by loving. March 13, 1853.
At evening the raw, overcast day concludes with snow and hail. March 13, 1855
You must get your living by loving. March 13, 1853.
At evening the raw, overcast day concludes with snow and hail. March 13, 1855
*****
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Spring sounds. Woodpeckers Tapping
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Lichens
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Spiders on Ice
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Striped Squirrel
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Willows on the Causeway
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Pickerel frog
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Song Sparrow
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Fuzzy Gnats (tipulidæ)
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Pigeon Woodpecker
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Nuthatch
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Signs of the Spring:
Insects and Worms Come Forth and are Active
*****
March 5, 1857 ("This and the last four or five days very gusty. Most of the warmth of the fire is carried off by the draught, which consumes the wood very fast, faster than a much colder but still day in winter.")
March 5, 1859 ("Going down-town this forenoon, I heard a white-bellied nuthatch on an elm within twenty feet, uttering peculiar notes and more like a song than I remember to have heard from it")
March 8, 1860 ("See a small flock of grackles on the willow-row above railroad bridge. How they sit and make a business of chattering! for it cannot be called singing . . .This is the first flock of blackbirds I have chanced to see")
March 10,1852 ("I am pretty sure that I hear the chuckle of a ground squirrel among the warm and bare rocks of the Cliffs.")
March 10, 1853 (“Methinks the first obvious evidence of spring is the pushing out of the swamp willow catkins")
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 11, 1860 (" I see a woodchuck out on the calm side of Lee's Hill (Nawshawtuct).")
March 12, 1854 ("This is the blackbird morning. Their sprayey notes and conqueree ring with the song sparrows' jingle all along the river. ")
March 12, 1856 ("If the present cold should continue uninterrupted a thousand years would not the pond become solid?")March 12, 1859 ("There are many other insects and worms and caterpillars (and especially spiders, dead) on the ice, there as well as elsewhere.")
March 12, 1859 ("See two ducks flying over Ministerial Swamp.")
March 12, 1859 ("This kind of light, the air being full of rain and all vegetation dripping with it, brings out the browns wonderfully. ")
March 10,1852 ("I am pretty sure that I hear the chuckle of a ground squirrel among the warm and bare rocks of the Cliffs.")
March 10, 1853 (“Methinks the first obvious evidence of spring is the pushing out of the swamp willow catkins")
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 11, 1860 (" I see a woodchuck out on the calm side of Lee's Hill (Nawshawtuct).")
March 12, 1854 ("This is the blackbird morning. Their sprayey notes and conqueree ring with the song sparrows' jingle all along the river. ")
March 12, 1856 ("If the present cold should continue uninterrupted a thousand years would not the pond become solid?")March 12, 1859 ("There are many other insects and worms and caterpillars (and especially spiders, dead) on the ice, there as well as elsewhere.")
March 12, 1859 ("See two ducks flying over Ministerial Swamp.")
March 12, 1859 ("This kind of light, the air being full of rain and all vegetation dripping with it, brings out the browns wonderfully. ")
The great art of life.
Get your living by loving
by surplus of soul.
March 14, 1853 ("High winds, growing colder and colder, ground stiffening again. My ears have not been colder the past winter . . . March is rightly famous for its winds.")
March 14, 1858 ("I see a Fringilla hyemalis, the first bird, perchance, — unless one hawk, – which is an evidence of spring,. . . now getting back earlier than our permanent summer residents. It flits past with a rattling or grating chip, showing its two white tail-feathers.")
March 15, 1853 ("I have not taken a more blustering walk this past winter than this afternoon.")
March 15, 1854 ("I hear that peculiar, interesting loud hollow tapping of a woodpecker from over the water.”)
March 15, 1854 ("I hear that peculiar, interesting loud hollow tapping of a 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, with peculiarly spread toes like a little hand.")
March 15, 1860 ("Many large fuzzy gnats and other insects in air.")
March 17, 1858 ("Ah! there is the note of the first flicker, a prolonged, monotonous wick-wick-wick-wick-wick-wick, etc., or, if you please, quick-quick, heard far over and through the dry leaves.")
March 15, 1860 ("Many large fuzzy gnats and other insects in air.")
March 17, 1858 ("Ah! there is the note of the first flicker, a prolonged, monotonous wick-wick-wick-wick-wick-wick, etc., or, if you please, quick-quick, heard far over and through the dry leaves.")
March 18, 1853("The tapping of the woodpecker about this time.”)
March 20, 1858 (“How handsome the willow catkins! Those wonderfully bright silvery buttons, so regularly disposed in oval schools in the air, or, if you please, along the seams which their twigs make, in all degrees of forwardness, from the faintest, tiniest speck of silver, just peeping from beneath the black scales, to lusty pussies which have thrown off their scaly coats and show some redness at base on a close inspection.”)
March 20, 1858 (“How handsome the willow catkins! Those wonderfully bright silvery buttons, so regularly disposed in oval schools in the air, or, if you please, along the seams which their twigs make, in all degrees of forwardness, from the faintest, tiniest speck of silver, just peeping from beneath the black scales, to lusty pussies which have thrown off their scaly coats and show some redness at base on a close inspection.”)
March 20, 1860 ("The 15th, 16th, 17th, 18th, and 19th were very pleasant and warm days, the thermometer standing at 50° 55° , 56° , 56°, and 51° (average 53 1/2°), - quite a spell of warm weather.")
April 23, 1854 ("I think I have got the worth of my glass now that it has revealed to me the white-headed eagle")
April 23, 1854 ("I think I have got the worth of my glass now that it has revealed to me the white-headed eagle")
March 13, 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 13
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
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