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
It is more dashing,
rippling, sparkling, living, this
windy but clear day
March 2, 1860
Two hawks scream like wind
through a crevice in the sky —
that cracked blue saucer.
Blackbird's sharp whistle
heard against the dark winter —
like sparks from the swamp.
March 2, 2018
The willow catkins by the railroad . . . have now all (on one or two bushes) crept out about an eighth of an inch, giving to the bushes already a very pretty appearance when you stand on the sunny side, the silvery-white specks contrasting with the black scales. March 2, 1859
Seen along the twigs, they are somewhat like small pearl buttons on a waist coat. March 2, 1859
Notice the brightness of a row of osiers this morning. March 2, 1860
This phenomenon, whether referable to a change in the condition of the twig or to the spring air and light, or even to our imaginations, is not the less a real phenomenon, affecting us annually at this season. March 2, 1860
Go and measure to what length the silvery willow catkins have crept out beyond their scales, if you would know what time o' the year it is by Nature's clock. March 2, 1859
We . . . commonly antedate the spring more than any other season, for we look forward to it with more longing. March 2, 1859
We talk about spring as at hand before the end of February, and yet it will be two good months, one sixth part of the whole year, before we can go a-maying. March 2, 1859
There may be a whole month of solid and uninterrupted winter yet, plenty of ice and good sleighing. March 2, 1859
Has snowed three or four inches —very damp snow — in the night; stops about 9 A. M. This will probably help carry off the old snow, so solid and deep. March 2, 1856
Very gusty day. An inch or two of snow falls, — all day about it, — and strangely blown away. March 2, 1857
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 2, 1858
What produces the peculiar softness of the air yesterday and to-day, as if it were the air of the south suddenly pillowed amid our wintry hills? March 2, 1854
We have suddenly a different sky, — a different atmosphere. March 2, 1854
It is as if the subtlest possible soft vapor were diffused through the atmosphere. March 2, 1854
Warm air has come to us from the south, but charged with moisture, which will yet distill in rain or congeal into snow and hail. March 2, 1854
The bluebird which some woodchopper or inspired walker is said to have seen in that sunny interval between the snow-storms is like a speck of clear blue sky seen near the end of a storm, reminding us of an ethereal region and a heaven which we had forgotten. March 2, 1859
The bluebird comes and with his warble drills the ice and sets free the rivers and ponds and frozen ground. March 2, 1859
The sharp whistle of the blackbird, too, is heard like single sparks or a shower of them shot up from the swamps and seen against the dark winter in the rear. March 2, 1859
See a large flock of snow buntings, the white birds of the winter, rejoicing in the snow. March 2, 1858
Then they restlessly take to wing again, and as they wheel about one, it is a very rich sight to see them dressed in black and white uniforms, alternate black and white, very distinct and regular. March 2, 1858
It is a remarkably cold day for March, and the river, etc., are frozen as solidly as in the winter and there is no water to be seen upon the ice, as usually in a winter day, apparently because it has chiefly run out from beneath on the meadows and left the ice, for often, as you walk over the meadows, it sounds hollow under your tread. March 2, 1859
Go and measure to what length the silvery willow catkins have crept out beyond their scales, if you would know what time o' the year it is by Nature's clock. March 2, 1859
We . . . commonly antedate the spring more than any other season, for we look forward to it with more longing. March 2, 1859
We talk about spring as at hand before the end of February, and yet it will be two good months, one sixth part of the whole year, before we can go a-maying. March 2, 1859
There may be a whole month of solid and uninterrupted winter yet, plenty of ice and good sleighing. March 2, 1859
Has snowed three or four inches —very damp snow — in the night; stops about 9 A. M. This will probably help carry off the old snow, so solid and deep. March 2, 1856
Very gusty day. An inch or two of snow falls, — all day about it, — and strangely blown away. March 2, 1857
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 2, 1858
What produces the peculiar softness of the air yesterday and to-day, as if it were the air of the south suddenly pillowed amid our wintry hills? March 2, 1854
We have suddenly a different sky, — a different atmosphere. March 2, 1854
It is as if the subtlest possible soft vapor were diffused through the atmosphere. March 2, 1854
Warm air has come to us from the south, but charged with moisture, which will yet distill in rain or congeal into snow and hail. March 2, 1854
The bluebird which some woodchopper or inspired walker is said to have seen in that sunny interval between the snow-storms is like a speck of clear blue sky seen near the end of a storm, reminding us of an ethereal region and a heaven which we had forgotten. March 2, 1859
The bluebird comes and with his warble drills the ice and sets free the rivers and ponds and frozen ground. March 2, 1859
The sharp whistle of the blackbird, too, is heard like single sparks or a shower of them shot up from the swamps and seen against the dark winter in the rear. March 2, 1859
See a large flock of snow buntings, the white birds of the winter, rejoicing in the snow. March 2, 1858
Then they restlessly take to wing again, and as they wheel about one, it is a very rich sight to see them dressed in black and white uniforms, alternate black and white, very distinct and regular. March 2, 1858
It is a remarkably cold day for March, and the river, etc., are frozen as solidly as in the winter and there is no water to be seen upon the ice, as usually in a winter day, apparently because it has chiefly run out from beneath on the meadows and left the ice, for often, as you walk over the meadows, it sounds hollow under your tread. March 2, 1859
The opening in the river at Merrick’s is now increased to ten feet in width in some places. March 2, 1856
Walking up the river by Prichard's, was surprised to see, on the snow over the river, a great many seeds and scales of birches, though the snow had so recently fallen, there had been but little wind, and it was already spring. March 2, 1856
There was one seed or scale to a square foot, yet the nearest birches were, about fifteen of them, along the wall thirty rods east. March 2, 1856
As I advanced toward them, the seeds became thicker and thicker, till they quite discolored the snow half a dozen rods distant, while east of the birches there was not one.
As I went home up the river, I saw some of the seeds forty rods off, and perhaps, in a more favorable direction, I might have found them much furthe . . .and when the river breaks up will be carried far away, to distant shores and meadows. March 2, 1856
It suggested how unwearied Nature is, spreading her seeds. Even the spring does not find her unprovided with birch, aye, and alder and pine seed. March 2, 1856
The birches appear not to have lost a quarter of their seeds yet. March 2, 1856
Walking up the river by Prichard's, was surprised to see, on the snow over the river, a great many seeds and scales of birches, though the snow had so recently fallen, there had been but little wind, and it was already spring. March 2, 1856
There was one seed or scale to a square foot, yet the nearest birches were, about fifteen of them, along the wall thirty rods east. March 2, 1856
As I advanced toward them, the seeds became thicker and thicker, till they quite discolored the snow half a dozen rods distant, while east of the birches there was not one.
As I went home up the river, I saw some of the seeds forty rods off, and perhaps, in a more favorable direction, I might have found them much furthe . . .and when the river breaks up will be carried far away, to distant shores and meadows. March 2, 1856
It suggested how unwearied Nature is, spreading her seeds. Even the spring does not find her unprovided with birch, aye, and alder and pine seed. March 2, 1856
The birches appear not to have lost a quarter of their seeds yet. March 2, 1856
Under the alders at Well Meadow I see a few skunk-cabbage spathes fairly open on the side, and these may bloom after a day or two of pleasant weather. March 2, 1859
But for the most part, here and generally elsewhere, the spathes are quite small, slender, and closed as yet, or frost bitten. March 2, 1859
Thinking to look at the cabbage as I pass under Clamshell, I find it very inconspicuous. Most would have said that there was none there. March 2, 1860
But for the most part, here and generally elsewhere, the spathes are quite small, slender, and closed as yet, or frost bitten. March 2, 1859
Thinking to look at the cabbage as I pass under Clamshell, I find it very inconspicuous. Most would have said that there was none there. March 2, 1860
Putting my finger into one . . . I was surprised when I drew it forth to see it covered with pollen. It was fairly in bloom, and probably yesterday too. . . . No doubt it may have bloomed in some places in this neighborhood in the last day or two of February this year. March 2, 1860
Evidently some buds are further advanced than others even when the winter comes, and then these are further expanded and matured in advance of the others in the very warm days in the winter. March 2, 1860
See a hen-hawk. March 2, 1860
Hear two hawks scream. March 2, 1855
There is something truly March-like in it, like a prolonged blast or whistling of the wind through a crevice in the sky.which, like a cracked blue saucer, overlaps the woods. March 2, 1855
Such are the first rude notes which prelude the summer’s quire, learned of the whistling March wind. March 2, 1855
I can hardly believe that hen-hawks may be beginning to build their nests now, yet their young were a fortnight old the last of April last year. March 2, 1856
We listen to the February cock-crowing and turkey-gobbling as to a first course, or prelude. March 2, 1859
I see . . . a small round last year’s turtle with a yellowish spot on each scale and a yellow-pink breast centred with black. March 2, 1860
Also see a yellow-spot turtle there. March 2, 1860
The great phenomenon these days is the sparkling blue water, — a richer blue than the sky ever is . . . this copious living and sparkling blue water of various shades. March 2, 1860
The flooded meadows are ripple lakes on a large scale. March 2, 1860
It is more dashing, rippling, sparkling, living, this windy but clear day; never smooth, but ever varying in its degree of motion and depth of blue as the wind is more or less strong, rising and falling. March 2, 1860
All along the shore next us is a strip a few feet wide of very light and smooth sky-blue, for so much is sheltered even by the lowest shore, but the rest is all more or less agitated and dark-blue. In it are, floating or stationary, here and there, cakes of white ice, the least looking like ducks, and large patches of water have a dirty-white or even tawny look, where the ice still lies on the bottom of the meadow. Thus even the meadow flood is parded, and of various patches of color. March 2, 1860
Ever and anon the wind seems to drop down from over the hill in strong puffs, and then spread and diffuse itself in dark fan shaped figures over the surface of the water. It is glorious to see how it sports on the watery surface. March 2, 1860
These are ripple days begun, — not yet in woodland pools, where is ice yet. March 2, 1860
The red maple sap flows freely, and probably has for several days. March 2, 1860
I remember to have seen these wood-lots being cut this winter. March 2, 1858
See a hen-hawk. March 2, 1860
Hear two hawks scream. March 2, 1855
There is something truly March-like in it, like a prolonged blast or whistling of the wind through a crevice in the sky.which, like a cracked blue saucer, overlaps the woods. March 2, 1855
Such are the first rude notes which prelude the summer’s quire, learned of the whistling March wind. March 2, 1855
I can hardly believe that hen-hawks may be beginning to build their nests now, yet their young were a fortnight old the last of April last year. March 2, 1856
We listen to the February cock-crowing and turkey-gobbling as to a first course, or prelude. March 2, 1859
See thirty or more crows come flying in the usual irregular zigzag manner in the strong wind, from over M. Miles’s, going northeast, — the first migration of them, — without cawing. March 2, 1860
In Hosmer’s ditches in the moraine meadow, the grass just peeps above the surface, apparently begun to grow a little. March 2, 1860
In Hosmer’s ditches in the moraine meadow, the grass just peeps above the surface, apparently begun to grow a little. March 2, 1860
I begin to notice the reddish stems of moss on low ground, not bright yet. March 2, 1860
At Brister Spring, and especially below, at the cowslip, the dense bedded green moss is very fresh and handsome, and the cowslip leaves, though unfolded, rise to the surface. March 2, 1860
See a little conferva in ditches. March 2, 1860
Two or three tufts of carex have shot up in Hosmer’s cold spring ditch and been frost-bitten. March 2, 1860
I see . . . a small round last year’s turtle with a yellowish spot on each scale and a yellow-pink breast centred with black. March 2, 1860
Also see a yellow-spot turtle there. March 2, 1860
See a little frog in one of the spring-holes. March 2, 1860
We see one or two gnats in the air. March 2, 1860
We see one or two gnats in the air. March 2, 1860
There is a strong westerly wind to-day, though warm, and we sit under Dennis’s Lupine Promontory, to observe the water. March 2, 1860
The great phenomenon these days is the sparkling blue water, — a richer blue than the sky ever is . . . this copious living and sparkling blue water of various shades. March 2, 1860
The flooded meadows are ripple lakes on a large scale. March 2, 1860
It is more dashing, rippling, sparkling, living, this windy but clear day; never smooth, but ever varying in its degree of motion and depth of blue as the wind is more or less strong, rising and falling. March 2, 1860
All along the shore next us is a strip a few feet wide of very light and smooth sky-blue, for so much is sheltered even by the lowest shore, but the rest is all more or less agitated and dark-blue. In it are, floating or stationary, here and there, cakes of white ice, the least looking like ducks, and large patches of water have a dirty-white or even tawny look, where the ice still lies on the bottom of the meadow. Thus even the meadow flood is parded, and of various patches of color. March 2, 1860
Ever and anon the wind seems to drop down from over the hill in strong puffs, and then spread and diffuse itself in dark fan shaped figures over the surface of the water. It is glorious to see how it sports on the watery surface. March 2, 1860
These are ripple days begun, — not yet in woodland pools, where is ice yet. March 2, 1860
I see a row of white pines, too, waving and reflecting their silvery light. March 2, 1860
The red maple sap flows freely, and probably has for several days. March 2, 1860
I remember to have seen these wood-lots being cut this winter. March 2, 1858
Looking up a narrow ditch in a meadow, I see a modest brown bird flit along it furtively, — the first song sparrow, -- and then alight far off on a rock. March 2, 1860
*****
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Willows on the Causewa
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, signs of spring: mosses bright green
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Fuzzy Gnats (tipulidæ)
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Yellow-Spotted Turtle
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Song Sparrow
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The American Crow
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Snow Bunting
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Hen Hawk
December 4, 1854 ("Already the bird-like birch scales dot the snow")
January 7, 1854 ("The bird-shaped scales of the white birch are blown more than twenty rods from the trees.”)
January 7, 1856 ("I see birch scales (bird-like) on the snow on the river more than twenty rods south of the nearest and only birch, and trace them north to it")
January 29, 1858 ("In the ditches on Holbrook's meadow near Copan, I see a Rana palustris swimming, and much conferva greening all the water. Even this green is exhilarating, like a spring in winter. I am affected by the sight even of a mass of conferva in a ditch")
February 9, 1854 ("There is a peculiar softness and luminousness in the air this morning, perhaps the light being diffused by vapor. It is such a warm, moist, or softened, sunlit air as we are wont to hear the first bluebird's warble in");
February 11, 1856 ("I thought it would be a thawing day by the sound, the peculiar sound, of cock-crowing in the morning.”)
February 16, 1855 ("Sounds sweet and musical through this air, as crows, cocks, and striking on the rails at a distance.”)
February 21, 1857 ("Am surprised to see this afternoon a boy collecting red maple sap from some trees behind George Hubbard's. It runs freely. The earliest sap I made to flow last year was March 14th ")
February 23, 1857 ("What mean these turtles, these coins of the muddy mint issued in early spring? The bright spots on their backs are vain unless I behold them. The spots seem brighter than ever when first beheld in the spring, as does the bark of the willow. I have seen signs of the spring. I have seen a frog swiftly sinking in a pool, or where he dimpled the surface as he leapt in. I have seen the brilliant spotted tortoises stirring at the bottom of ditches. I have seen the clear sap trickling from the red maple.")
February 24, 1852 ("I am reminded of spring by the quality of the air. The cock-crowing and even the telegraph harp prophesy it, even though the ground is for the most part covered by snow.”)
February 24, 1855 (“The brightening of the willows or osiers — that is a season in the spring, showing that the dormant sap is awakened. I now remember a few osiers which I have seen early in past springs, thus brilliantly green and red (or yellow), and it is as if all the landscape and all nature shone. Though the twigs were few which I saw, I remember it as a prominent phenomenon affecting the face of Nature, a gladdening of her face. You will often fancy that they look brighter before the spring has come, and when there has been no change in them.”)
February 24, 1857 ("I am surprised to hear the strain of a song sparrow from the riverside “)
February 24, 1857 ("I am surprised to hear the strain of a song sparrow from the riverside “)
February 24, 1857 ("[A]s I cross from the causeway to the hill, thinking of the bluebird, I that instant hear one's note from deep in the softened air.")
February 25, 1860 ("I noticed yesterday the first conspicuous silvery sheen from the needles of the white pine waving in the wind.")
February 26, 1851 ("See five red-wings and a song sparrow(?) this afternoon.”)
February 27, 1860 (" I noticed yesterday that the skunk-cabbage had not started yet at Well Meadow, and had been considerably frost-bitten. ")
March 3, 1857 ("The red maple sap, which I first noticed the 21st of February, is now frozen up in the auger-holes .")
March 3, 1860 ("The first song sparrows are very inconspicuous and shy on the brown earth. You hear some weeds rustle, or think you see a mouse run amid the stubble, and then the sparrow flits low away.”)
March 4, 1852 (I see where a maple has been wounded the sap is flowing out. Now, then, is the time to make sugar.")
March 5, 1859 ("We see one or two little gnats or mosquitoes in the air")
March 5, 1855 ("This blue haze, and the russet earth seen through it, remind me that a new season has come.");
March 5, 1854 ("See crows, as I think, migrating northeasterly. They come in loose, straggling flocks, about twenty to each, commonly silent, a quarter to a half a mile apart, till four flocks have passed, perhaps more.")
March 5, 1859 (" I see a crow going north or northeast, high over Fair Haven Hill, and, two or three minutes after, two more, and so many more at intervals of a few minutes. This is apparently their spring movement. ")
March 6, 1855 ("There is hardly a wood lot of any consequence left but the chopper’s axe has been heard in it this season. They have even infringed fatally on White Pond, on the south of Fair Haven Pond, shaved ofl’ the topknot of the Cliffs, the Colburn farm, Beck Stow’s, etc., etc.")
March 7, 1854 ("See some fuzzy gnats in the air. It is an overcast and moist but rather warm afternoon.")
March 7, 1860 ("C. says that he saw a swarm of very small gnats in the air yesterday")
March 7 , 1855 ("At Brister’s Spring there are beautiful dense green beds of moss, which apparently has just risen above the surface of the water, tender and compact.")
March 7, 1855 ("To-day, as also three or four days ago, I saw a clear drop of maple sap on a broken red maple twig, which tasted very sweet.")
March 7, 1855 ("Did I not see crows flying northeasterly yesterday toward night?"); March 9, 1860 (“March began warm, and I admired the ripples made by the gusts on the dark-blue meadow flood, and the light-tawny color of the earth, and was on the alert to hear the first birds.”)
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.”)
March 11, 1852 (The woods I walked in in my youth are cut off. Is it not time that I ceased to sing?”)
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, 1859 (" This is, methinks, the brightest object in the landscape these days. Nothing so betrays the spring sun. I am aware that the sun has come out of a cloud first by seeing it lighting up the osiers. Such a willow-row, cut off within a year or two, might be called a heliometer, or measure of the sun's brightness.")
March 21, 1859 (“That fine silvery light reflected from its needles (perhaps their undersides) incessantly in motion.”)
March 26, 1860 ("The yellow-spotted tortoise may be seen February 23, as in '57, or not till March 28, as in '55, — thirty-three days.");
April 2, 1853 (" See the fine moss in the pastures with beautiful red stems even crimsoning the ground. This is its season.")
April 9, 1859 ("Watching the ripples fall and dash across the surface of low-lying and small woodland lakes is one of the amusements of these windy March and April days.”)
February 26, 1851 ("See five red-wings and a song sparrow(?) this afternoon.”)
February 27, 1860 (" I noticed yesterday that the skunk-cabbage had not started yet at Well Meadow, and had been considerably frost-bitten. ")
March 3, 1857 ("The red maple sap, which I first noticed the 21st of February, is now frozen up in the auger-holes .")
March 3, 1860 ("The first song sparrows are very inconspicuous and shy on the brown earth. You hear some weeds rustle, or think you see a mouse run amid the stubble, and then the sparrow flits low away.”)
March 4, 1852 (I see where a maple has been wounded the sap is flowing out. Now, then, is the time to make sugar.")
March 5, 1859 ("We see one or two little gnats or mosquitoes in the air")
March 5, 1855 ("This blue haze, and the russet earth seen through it, remind me that a new season has come.");
March 5, 1854 ("See crows, as I think, migrating northeasterly. They come in loose, straggling flocks, about twenty to each, commonly silent, a quarter to a half a mile apart, till four flocks have passed, perhaps more.")
March 5, 1859 (" I see a crow going north or northeast, high over Fair Haven Hill, and, two or three minutes after, two more, and so many more at intervals of a few minutes. This is apparently their spring movement. ")
March 6, 1855 ("There is hardly a wood lot of any consequence left but the chopper’s axe has been heard in it this season. They have even infringed fatally on White Pond, on the south of Fair Haven Pond, shaved ofl’ the topknot of the Cliffs, the Colburn farm, Beck Stow’s, etc., etc.")
March 7, 1854 ("See some fuzzy gnats in the air. It is an overcast and moist but rather warm afternoon.")
March 7, 1860 ("C. says that he saw a swarm of very small gnats in the air yesterday")
March 7 , 1855 ("At Brister’s Spring there are beautiful dense green beds of moss, which apparently has just risen above the surface of the water, tender and compact.")
March 7, 1855 ("To-day, as also three or four days ago, I saw a clear drop of maple sap on a broken red maple twig, which tasted very sweet.")
March 7, 1855 ("Did I not see crows flying northeasterly yesterday toward night?"); March 9, 1860 (“March began warm, and I admired the ripples made by the gusts on the dark-blue meadow flood, and the light-tawny color of the earth, and was on the alert to hear the first birds.”)
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.”)
March 11, 1852 (The woods I walked in in my youth are cut off. Is it not time that I ceased to sing?”)
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, 1859 (" This is, methinks, the brightest object in the landscape these days. Nothing so betrays the spring sun. I am aware that the sun has come out of a cloud first by seeing it lighting up the osiers. Such a willow-row, cut off within a year or two, might be called a heliometer, or measure of the sun's brightness.")
March 21, 1859 (“That fine silvery light reflected from its needles (perhaps their undersides) incessantly in motion.”)
March 26, 1860 ("The yellow-spotted tortoise may be seen February 23, as in '57, or not till March 28, as in '55, — thirty-three days.");
April 2, 1853 (" See the fine moss in the pastures with beautiful red stems even crimsoning the ground. This is its season.")
April 9, 1859 ("Watching the ripples fall and dash across the surface of low-lying and small woodland lakes is one of the amusements of these windy March and April days.”)
March 2, 2002
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 2
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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