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
A cold and windy
afternoon with snow not yet
melted on the ground.
My eye wanders as
I sit on an oak stump by
an old cellar hole.
Methinks that in my
mood I am asking Nature
to give me a sign.
Transient gladness.
I do not know what it is –
something that I see.
This recognition
from white pines now reflecting
a silvery light.
And by the old site
I sit on the stump of an
oak which once grew here.
This has been a very pleasant month, with quite a number of Indian-summer days, -- a pleasanter month than October was. November 30, 1859
A rather cold and windy afternoon, with some snow not yet melted on the ground. November 30, 1851
This is another pleasant day. November 30, 1852
A mild and summery afternoon with much russet light on the landscape. November 30, 1853
A still, warm, cloudy, rain-threatening day. November 30, 1857
The air is full of geese. I saw five flocks within an hour, about 10 A. M., containing from thirty to fifty each, and afterward two more flocks, making in all from two hundred and fifty to three hundred at least, all flying southwest over Goose and Walden Ponds. November 30, 1857
Under the south side of the hill between Brown's and Tarbell's, in a warm nook, disturbed three large gray squirrels and some partridges, who had all sought out this bare and warm place. November 30, 1851
This squirrel is always an unexpectedly large animal to see frisking about. November 30, 1851
In Hubbard's bank wall field, beyond the brook, see the tracks of many sparrows that have run from weed to weed, as if a chain had dropped there. November 30, 1856
Here and there a squirrel or a rabbit has hastily crossed the path. November 30, 1856
Here and there a squirrel or a rabbit has hastily crossed the path. November 30, 1856
While the squirrels hid themselves in the tree-tops, I sat on an oak stump by an old cellar-hole and mused. November 30, 1851
I see in my mind's eye the little striped breams poised in Walden's water –– the bream that I have just found. How wild it makes the pond and the township to find a new fish in it! November 30, 1858
The bream, appreciated, floats in the pond as the centre of the sys tem, another image of God. Its life no man can ex plain more than he can his own. I want you to perceive the mystery of the bream. I have a contemporary in Walden. November 30, 1858
Was that large diver . . . afterward flying up-stream over our head, the goosander or red-breasted merganser? It was large, with, I should say, a white breast, long reddish bill, bright-red or pink on sides or beneath, reddish-brown crest, white speculum, upper part of throat dark, lower white with breast. November 30, 1854
I think it was a flock of low-warbling tree sparrows which I saw amid the weeds beyond the monument, though they looked larger. November 30, 1853
An apparent downy woodpecker's nest in a dead white oak stub some six feet high. It looks quite fresh, and I see by the very numerous fresh white chips of dead wood scattered over the recently fallen leaves beneath that it must have been made since the leaves fell. November 30, 1859
To Pine Hill. November 30, 1852
From Pine Hill, Wachusett is seen over Walden. The country seems to slope up from the west end of Walden to the mountain. November 30, 1852
Coming over the side of Fair Haven Hill at sunset, we saw a large, long, dusky cloud in the northwest horizon, apparently just this side of Wachusett, or at least twenty miles off, which was snowing, November 30, 1858
Wachusett from Fair Haven Hill, August 2, 1852
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Overlooking Walden Pond toward
Waschusett, from Pine Hill
April 28, 1906
Waschusett, from Pine Hill
April 28, 1906
On the 27th, when I made my last voyage for the season. . . the ice reminded me that it was time to put it in winter quarters. November 30, 1855
Sail down river. No ice, but strong cold wind; river slightly over meadows. November 30, 1854
Down river by boat and inland to the green house beyond Blood's. November 30, 1853
River skimmed over behind Dodd’s and elsewhere. Got in my boat. River remained iced over all day. November 30, 1855
The river may be said to have frozen generally last night. November 30, 1858
I am waiting for colder weather to survey a swamp, now inaccessible on account of the water. November 30, 1855
I am waiting for colder weather to survey a swamp, now inaccessible on account of the water. November 30, 1855
An old cellar-hole . . . I sit by the old site on the stump of an oak which once grew there. November 30, 1851
The buds of the Populus tremuloides show their down as in early spring. November 30, 1852
The Lygodium palmatum is quite abundant on that side of the swamp, twining round the goldenrods, etc., etc.
My eye wanders across the valley to the pine woods which fringe the opposite side, and in their aspect my eye finds something which addresses itself to my nature. November 30, 1851
Methinks that in my mood I was asking Nature to give me a sign. November 30, 1851
I do not know exactly what it was that attracted my eye. I experienced a transient gladness, at any rate, at something which I saw. November 30, 1851
The white pines, now reflecting a silvery light, the infinite stories of their boughs, tier above tier, . . . one above and behind another, each bearing its burden of silvery sunlight, with darker seams between them November 30, 1851
On this my eyes pastured, while the squirrels were up the trees behind me. That, at any rate, it was that I got by my afternoon walk, a certain recognition from the pine, some congratulation. November 30, 1851
I do not know exactly what it was that attracted my eye. I experienced a transient gladness, at any rate, at something which I saw. November 30, 1851
The white pines, now reflecting a silvery light, the infinite stories of their boughs, tier above tier, . . . one above and behind another, each bearing its burden of silvery sunlight, with darker seams between them November 30, 1851
On this my eyes pastured, while the squirrels were up the trees behind me. That, at any rate, it was that I got by my afternoon walk, a certain recognition from the pine, some congratulation. November 30, 1851
Several inches of snow, but a rather soft and mild air still. Now see the empty chalices of the blue-curls and the rich brown-fruited pinweed above the crust. November 30, 1856
I am attracted nowadays by the various withered grasses and sedges, of different shades of straw-color and of various more or less graceful forms.November 30, 1853
This as I go through the Depot Field, where the stub ends of corn-stalks rise above the snow. I find half a dozen russets, touched and discolored within by frost, still hanging on Wheeler's tree by the wall. November 30, 1856
I see the fine, thin, yellowish stipule of the pine leaves now, on the snow by Hubbard's Grove. November 30, 1856
I see the fine, thin, yellowish stipule of the pine leaves now, on the snow by Hubbard's Grove. November 30, 1856
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 30, 1853
Though divested of color, fairly bleached, they are not in the least decayed but seasoned and living like the heart-wood. November 30, 1853
Now, first since spring, I take notice of the cladonia lichens, which the cool fall rains appear to have started. November 30, 1853
Now, first since spring, I take notice of the cladonia lichens, which the cool fall rains appear to have started. November 30, 1853
The Lygodium palmatum is quite abundant on that side of the swamp, twining round the goldenrods, etc., etc.
Already, a little after 4 o'clock, the sparkling windows and vanes of the village, seen under and against the faintly purple-tinged, slate-colored mountains, remind me of a village in a mountainous country at twilight, where early lights appear. November 30, 1852
I think that this peculiar sparkle without redness, a cold glitter, is peculiar to this season. November 30, 1852
Though there were some clouds in the west, there was a bright silver twilight before we reached our boat . . . A red house could hardly be distinguished at a distance, but a white one appeared to reflect light on the landscape. At first we saw no redness in the sky, but only some peculiar dark wisp-like clouds in the west, but on rising a hill I saw a few red stains like veins of red quartz on a ground of feldspar. The river was perfectly smooth except the upwelling of its tide, and as we paddled home westward, the dusky yellowing sky was all reflected in it, together with the dun-colored clouds and the trees, and there was more light in the water than in the sky. November 30, 1853
At sunset, we saw a large, long, dusky cloud in the northwest horizon, apparently just this side of Wachusett, or at least twenty miles off, which was snowing, when all the rest was clear sky. It was a complete snow-cloud . . . Near where the sun was just about to set, it was all aglow on its under side with a salmon fulgor, making it look warmer than a furnace at the same time that it was snowing. In short, I saw a cloud, quite local in the heavens, whose south end rested over the portals of the day, twenty and odd miles off, and was lit by the splendor of the departing sun, and from this lit cloud snow was falling . . .Thus local is all storm, surrounded by serenity and beauty. November 30, 1858
We see purple clouds in the east horizon. November 30, 1858
But did ever clouds flit and change, form and dissolve, so fast as in this clear, cold air? November 30, 1858
Coming over the side of Fair Haven Hill at sunset, we saw a large, long, dusky cloud in the northwest horizon, apparently just this side of Wachusett, or at least twenty miles off, which was snowing, when all the rest was clear sky. It was a complete snow-cloud. November 30, 1858
Near where the sun was just about to set, it was all aglow on its under side with a salmon fulgor, making it look warmer than a furnace at the same time that it was snowing. November 30, 1858
In short, I saw a cloud, quite local in the heavens, whose south end rested over the portals of the day, twenty and odd miles off, and was lit by the splendor of the departing sun, and from this lit cloud snow was falling. November 30, 1858
Thus local is all storm, surrounded by serenity and beauty. November 30, 1858
The short afternoons are come. November 30, 1858
It is quite warm today, and as I go home at dusk on the railroad causeway, I hear a hylodes peeping. November 30, 1859
It was an evening for the muskrats to be abroad, and we saw one, which dove as he was swimming rapidly, turning over like a wheel. November 30, 1853
*****
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Geese in Autumn
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Indian Summer
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Downy Woodpecker
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Sheldrake (Merganser, Goosander)
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Aspens
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Boat in. Boat out.
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Reminiscence and Prompting
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, November Sunsets
*****
May 1850 ("It is as sweet a mystery to me as ever, what this world is")
March 31, 1853 ("It is affecting to see a distant mountain-top,. . . still as blue and ethereal to your eyes as is your memory of it.')
August 14, 1854(“I have come forth to this hill at sunset to see the forms of the mountains in the horizon.");October 22, 1857 (“But what a perfect crescent of mountains we have in our northwest horizon! Do we ever give thanks for it? ”)
September 7, 1851 ("We are surrounded by a rich and fertile mystery")
September 12, 1851("It is worth the while to see the mountains in the horizon once a day.")
October 2, 1859 (“The climbing fern is perfectly fresh, — and apparently therefore an evergreen, — the more easily found amid the withered cinnamon and flowering ferns.”)
October 19, 1856 ("I return by the west side of Lee's Cliff hill, and sit on a rounded rock there, covered with fresh-fallen pine-needles, amid the woods, whence I see Wachusett.")
November 4, 1857 (Those grand and glorious mountains, how impossible to remember daily that they are there, and to live accordingly! They are meant to be a perpetual reminder to us, pointing out the way.")
November 4, 1857 (“ I climb Pine Hill just as the sun is setting . . .Walden lies an oblong square endwise to, beneath me. . . .I see one glistening reflection on the dusky and leafy northwestern earth, seven or eight miles off, betraying a window there, though no house can be seen. It twinkles incessantly, as from a waving surface.”)
November 8 , 1857 ("A warm, cloudy, rain-threatening morning. About 10 A.M. a long flock of geese are going over from northeast to southwest . . . In the afternoon. . .was the third flock to-day. Now if ever, then, we may expect a change in the weather.")
November 11, 1851 ("There is a cold, silvery light on the white pines as I go through J.P. Brown's field near Jenny Dugan’s.”)
November 13, 1855 ("Seventy or eighty geese, in three harrows successively smaller, flying southwest—pretty well west—over the house. A completely overcast, occasionally drizzling forenoon. ");
November 18, 1854 (" Sixty geese go over the Great Fields, in one waving line, broken from time to time by their crowding on each other and vainly endeavoring to form into a harrow, honking all the while.")
November 18, 1855 ("Now first mark the stubble and numerous withered weeds rising above the snow. They have suddenly acquired a new character.“)
November 20, 1853 ("Methinks the geese are wont to go south just before a storm");
November 21, 1850 ("What are these things?")
November 23, 1853 ("At 5 P. M. I saw, flying southwest high overhead, a flock of geese, and heard the faint honking of one or two. They were in the usual harrow form,. . .This is the sixth flock I have seen or heard of since the morning of the 17th , i . e . within a week ")
November 25, 1850 ("This afternoon, late and cold as it is, has been a sort of Indian summer. Indeed, I think that we have summer days from time to time the winter through")
November 28, 1858 ("And all the years that I have known Walden these striped breams have skulked in it without my knowledge!")
November 29, 1853 ("These have been the mildest and pleasantest days since November came in.")
November 29, 1858 (" It is a clear and pleasant winter day.")
November 29, 1860 ("Get up my boat, 7 a. m. Thin ice of the night is floating down the river.")
November 29, 1856 (“It has been a remarkably pleasant November, warmer and pleasanter than last year.”)
There was more light in
the water than in the sky
as we paddled home.
December 1, 1857 ("I hear of two more flocks of geese going over to-day")
December 2, 1852 ("I do not remember when I have taken a sail or a row on the river in December before. We had to break the ice about the boat-house for some distance.")
December 2, 1852 ("There goes a muskrat. He leaves so long a ripple behind that in this light you cannot tell where his body ends, and think him longer than he is.")
December 2, 1854 ("Got up my boat and housed it, ice having formed about it.")
December 3, 1856 (“Tthe pine forest's edge seen against the winter horizon. . . .The silvery needles of the pine straining the light.”)
December 4, 1850 (". It is a beautiful, almost Indian-summer, afternoon,")
December 5, 1853 ("See and hear a downy woodpecker on an apple tree. Have not many winter birds, like this and the chickadee, a sharp note like tinkling glass or icicles? ")
December 8, 1855 ("Yet it is cheering to walk there while the sun is reflected from far through the aisles with a silvery light from the needles of the pine.”)
December 21. 1851(“Sunlight on pine-needles is the phenomenon of a winter day.”)
December 27, 1852 ("Not a particle of ice in Walden to-day. Paddled across it. I took my new boat out. Flint's and Fair Haven being frozen up. Ground bare. River open")
December 27, 1853("Wachusett looks like a right whale over our bow, plowing the continent, with his flukes well down")
December 28, 1852 ("Brought my boat from Walden in rain. No snow on ground.")
January 5, 1860 (“I see where the downy woodpecker has worked lately by the chips of bark and rotten wood scattered over the snow, though I rarely see him in the winter.”)
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| November 30, 2015 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, November 30 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 © 2009-2022 |
