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
I paid many a visit to particular trees,
of kinds which are rare in this neighborhood,
standing far away in the middle of some pasture,
or in the depths of a wood or swamp, or on a hill-top;
such as the black-birch,
[or] its cousin, the yellow birch,
with its loose golden vest,
perfumed like the first.
~Walden
Let all things give way
to the impulse of
expression.
It is the bud unfolding,
the perennial spring.
As well stay the spring.
Who shall resist the thaw?
January 26, 1852
Though you walk each day
you do not foresee the walk
you have the next day.
January 26, 2019
Fair, but overcast. Thermometer about 32°. January 26, 1860
It is a very pleasant and warm day, and when I came down to the river and looked off to Merrick’s pasture, the osiers there shone as brightly as in spring, showing that their brightness depends on the sun and air rather than the season. January 26, 1859
The white maple buds look large, with bursting downy scales as in spring. January 26, 1856
The yellow birch tree is peculiarly interesting. It might be described as a tree whose trunk or bole was covered with golden and silver shavings glued all over it and dangling in curls. January 26, 1858
It is good to break and smell the black birch twigs now. January 26, 1852
A warm rain from time to time. P. M. — To Clintonia Swamp down the brook. When it rains it is like an April shower. The brook is quite open, and there is no snow on the banks or fields. January 26, 1858
Some say that this particularly warm weather within a few days is the January thaw, but there is nothing to thaw. January 26, 1858
A sharp, cutting air . . .Bitter, cutting, cold northwest wind on causeway, stiffening the face, freezing the ears. January 26, 1853
Another cold morning. None looked early, but about eight it was -14°. January 26, 1857
A slight, fine, snow has fallen in the night and drifted before the wind. January 26, 1853
This morning it snows again,—a fine dry snow with no wind to speak of, giving a wintry aspect to the landscape. , January 26, 1855
Saw Boston Harbor frozen over (for some time).. . .Saw thousands on the ice, a stream of men reaching down to Fort Independence, where they were cutting a channel toward the city. Ice said to reach fourteen miles. January 26, 1857
Though you walk every day, you do not foresee the kind of walking you will have the next day. January 26, 1860
The water is going down, and the ice is rotting. January 26, 1859
This which lately formed so suddenly on the flooded meadows, from beneath which the water has in a great measure run out, letting it down, while a warm sun has shone on it, is perhaps the most interesting of any. It might be called graphic ice. January 26, 1859
There is a little thin ice on the meadows. I see the bubbles underneath, looking like coin. January 26, 1853
What various kinds of ice there are! January 26, 1859
There is now a fine steam-like snow blowing over the ice, which continually lodges here and there, and forthwith a little drift accumulates. But why does it lodge at such regular intervals? January 26, 1853
What changes in the aspect of the earth! one day russet hills, and muddy ice, and yellow and greenish pools in the fields; the next all painted white, the fields and woods and roofs laid on thick. , January 26, 1855
I see where a partridge has waddled through the snow still falling, making a continuous track. I look in the direction to which it points, and see the bird just skimming over the bushes fifteen rods off. January 26, 1855
The wintriest scene, —which perhaps can only be seen in perfection while the snow is yet falling, before wind and thaw begin. January 26, 1855
Made a roaring fire on the edge of the meadow at Ware Hill in Sudbury . . . One half the pleasure is in making the fire. January 26, 1853
Made a fire on the ice, merely to see the flame and smell the smoke. January 26, 1860
The lichens look rather bright to-day, near the town line in Heywood's wood by the pond. January 26, 1852
When they are bright and expanded, is it not a sign of a thaw or of rain? January 26, 1852
The white lichens, partly encircling aspens and maples, look as if a painter had touched their trunks with his brush as he passed. January 26, 1858
The beauty of lichens, with their scalloped leaves, the small attractive fields, the crinkled edge ! I could study a single piece of bark for hours. January 26, 1852
The beauty of lichens, with their scalloped leaves, the small attractive fields, the crinkled edge ! I could study a single piece of bark for hours. January 26, 1852
This is a lichen day. January 26, 1858
It is surprising how much room there is in nature, if a man will follow his proper path. January 26, 1853
Nature loves gradation. January 26, 1858
From time to time I see a trout glance, and sometimes, in an adjoining ditch, quite a school of other fishes, but I see no tortoises. January 26, 1858
It is surprising how much room there is in nature, if a man will follow his proper path. January 26, 1853
Nature loves gradation. January 26, 1858
From time to time I see a trout glance, and sometimes, in an adjoining ditch, quite a school of other fishes, but I see no tortoises. January 26, 1858
In a ditch I see very light-colored and pretty large lizards moving about, and I suspect I may even have heard a frog drop into the water once or twice. January 26, 1858
To-day I see quite a flock of the lesser redpolls eating the seeds of the alder, picking them out of the cones just as they do the larch, often head downward; and I see, under the alders, where they have run and picked up the fallen seeds, making chain-like tracks, two parallel lines. January 26, 1860
The only birds I have seen to-day were some jays, one whistled clearly, — some of my mewing red frontlets, and some familiar chickadees. They are inquisitive, and fly along after the traveller to inspect him. January 26, 1853
These are remarkably warm and pleasant days. January 26, 1859
About 2 o'clock P. M. these days, after a fair forenoon, there is wont to blow up from the northwest a squally cloud, spanning the heavens, but before it reaches the southeast horizon it has lifted above the northwest, and so it leaves the sky clear there for sunset, while it has sunk low and dark in the southeast. January 26, 1852
I like to sit still under my umbrella and meditate in the woods in this warm rain. January 26, 1858
From these cliffs at this moment, the clouds in the west have a singular brassy color, and they are arranged in an unusual manner. January 26, 1852
A new disposition of the clouds will make the most familiar country appear foreign. January 26, 1852
To-day I see quite a flock of the lesser redpolls eating the seeds of the alder, picking them out of the cones just as they do the larch, often head downward; and I see, under the alders, where they have run and picked up the fallen seeds, making chain-like tracks, two parallel lines. January 26, 1860
The only birds I have seen to-day were some jays, one whistled clearly, — some of my mewing red frontlets, and some familiar chickadees. They are inquisitive, and fly along after the traveller to inspect him. January 26, 1853
These are remarkably warm and pleasant days. January 26, 1859
About 2 o'clock P. M. these days, after a fair forenoon, there is wont to blow up from the northwest a squally cloud, spanning the heavens, but before it reaches the southeast horizon it has lifted above the northwest, and so it leaves the sky clear there for sunset, while it has sunk low and dark in the southeast. January 26, 1852
I like to sit still under my umbrella and meditate in the woods in this warm rain. January 26, 1858
From these cliffs at this moment, the clouds in the west have a singular brassy color, and they are arranged in an unusual manner. January 26, 1852
A new disposition of the clouds will make the most familiar country appear foreign. January 26, 1852
January 26, 2018
*****
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Lichens
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Birches in Season
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Snow-flea
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, White Maple Buds and Flowers
*****
December 27, 1851 The sky is always ready to answer to our moods.
January 10, 1854 ("What you can recall of a walk on the second day will differ from what you remember on the first day");
January 17, 1852. As the skies appear to a man, so is his mind.
January 19, 1852 ("The snow blowing far off in the sun . . .looks like the mist that rises from rivers in the morning.")
January 20, 1857 (" I hear that Boston Harbor froze over on the 18th, down to Fort Independence.")
January 27, 1858 ("The part of you that is wettest is fullest of life, like the lichens. You discover evidences of immortality not known to divines. You cease to die. You detect some buds and sprouts of life. . . . And then the rain comes thicker and faster than before, , , , ,You can not go home yet; you stay and sit in the rain. ")
January 29, 1856 (“Another bright winter day.. . .The willow osiers of last year’s growth. . . are perhaps as bright as in the spring, the lower half yellow, the upper red, ”)
January 31, 1859 ("We do not commonly distinguish more than one kind of water in the river, but what various kinds of ice there are!")
February 16, 1852 ("I see the steam-like snow-dust curling up and careering along over the fields. . . .like the spray on a beach before the northwest wind.”)
February 18, 1860 Sometimes, when I go forth at 2 P. M., there is scarcely a cloud in the sky, but soon one will appear in the west and steadily advance and expand itself, and so change the whole character of the afternoon and of my thoughts.
March 5, 1852 ("Such is the mood of my mind, and I call it studying lichens. The habit of looking at things microscopically, as the lichens on the trees and rocks, really prevents my seeing aught else in a walk”)
January 26, 2018
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, January 26
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
https://tinyurl.com/HDTJan26
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