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
Surface so polished
I mistake it for water.
This the first skating.
The hard edge of the
western hills distinctly seen
through this clear cold air.
To walk through swamps where
great white pines grow and hear the
wind sough in their tops.
Snowed a little finely last night and this forenoon. December 18, 1854
Very cold, windy day. December 18, 1852
I see a few squirrels’ tracks in the woods and, here and there in one or two places, where a mouse’s gallery approached the surface. The powdery surface is broken by it. December 18, 1854
The crust of the slight snow covered in some woods with the scales (bird-shaped) of the birch, and their seeds. December 18, 1852
Where a partridge took to wing I find the round red buds of the high blueberry plucked about the swamps. December 18, 1854
Loring's Pond beautifully frozen. So polished a surface, I mistook many parts of it for water. December 18, 1852
Cracked into large squares like the faces of a reflector, it was so exquisitely polished that the sky and scudding dun-colored clouds, with mother-o'-pearl tints, were reflected in it as in the calmest water. December 18, 1852
I slid over it with a little misgiving, mistaking the ice before me for water. December 18, 1852
This is the first skating. December 18, 1852
See to-day a dark-colored spider of the very largest kind on ice. December 18, 1855
P. M. —Down railroad via Andromeda Ponds to river. December 18, 1854
P. M. — To Walden. December 18, 1858
P. M. — To Assabet opposite Tarbell's, via Abel Hosmer's. December 18, 1859
I am surprised to find in the Andromeda Ponds, especially the westernmost one, north side, an abundance of decodon, or swamp loosestrife. December 18, 1854
It rains but little this afternoon, though there is no sign of fair weather. December 18, 1859
It is a lichen day. December 18, 1859
The thick, low cloud or mist makes novel prospects for us. December 18, 1859
In the southwest horizon I see a darker mass of it stretched along, seen against itself. December 18, 1859
The oak woods a quarter of a mile off appear more uniformly red than ever .December 18, 1859
They are not only redder for being wet, but, through the obscurity of the mist, one leaf runs into an other and the whole mass makes one impression. December 18, 1859
The withered oak leaves, being thoroughly saturated with moisture, are of a livelier color. December 18, 1859
Also some of the most withered white oak leaves with roundish black spots like small lichens are quite interesting now. December 18, 1859
The pitch pines on the south of the road at the Colburn farm are very inspiriting to behold. Their green is as much enlivened and freshened as that of the lichens. It suggests a sort of sunlight on them, though not even a patch of clear sky is seen to-day. December 18, 1859
As dry and olive or slate-colored lichens are of a fresh and living green, so the already green pine-needles have acquired a far livelier tint, as if they enjoyed this moisture as much as the lichens do. December 18, 1859
Their trunks, and those of trees generally, being wet, are very black, and the bright lichens on them are so much the more remarkable. December 18, 1859
They seem to be lit up more than when the sun falls on them. December 18, 1859
Minott tells how he used to love to walk through swamps where great white pines grew and hear the wind sough in their tops. December 18, 1858
Apples are thawed now and are very good. December 18, 1859
They are all good in this state, and your jaws are the cider-press. December 18, 1859
Their juice is the best kind of bottled cider that I know. December 18, 1859
I see three shrikes in different places to-day, — two on the top of apple trees, sitting still in the storm, on the lookout. December 18, 1859
They fly low to another tree when disturbed, much like a bluebird, and jerk their tails once or twice when they alight. December 18, 1859
Still the little ruby-crowned birds about. [The Lesser Redpoll, Fringilla linaria.] December 18, 1852
[Walden] is merely frozen a little about the edges. December 18, 1858
I see various little fishes lurking under this thin, transparent ice, close up to the edge or shore, especially where the shore is flat and water shoal. December 18, 1858
They are little shiners with the dark longitudinal stripe, about an inch and a half long, perch, and one pickerel about a foot long. December 18, 1858
They are all a peculiar rich-brown color seen thus through the ice.December 18, 1858
They love to get up as close to the shore as possible, and when you walk along you scare them out. December 18, 1858
I cast a stone on the ice over a perch six inches long, thinking only to stun it, but killed it so. December 18, 1858
The ice is about one inch thick. December 18, 1858
I notice that it is firmly frozen to the shore, so that there is no rise and fall as when it was water, or at least nothing equal to that, but the ice has been cracked with a great many parallel cracks six inches to a foot from the shore. December 18, 1858
Clears off cold after rain. December 18, 1853
Cross Fair Haven Pond at sunset. December 18, 1853
The western hills, these bordering it, seen through the clear, cold air, have a hard, distinct edge against the sunset sky. December 18, 1853
*****
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, First Ice
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Pitch Pine.
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Birches in Season
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 Lesser Redpoll
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Northern Shrike
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Partridge
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Winter Birds
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Winter Sunsets
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Western Sky
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Winter Colors
*****
April 3, 1854 ("This is methinks the first hazy day, and the sough of the wind in the pines sounds warmer, whispering of summer.")
August 14, 1854 ("I have come forth to this hill at sunset to see the forms of the mountains in the horizon, — to behold and commune with something grander than man.")
November 4, 1854 (“Saw a shrike in an apple tree, with apparently a worm in its mouth. ”)
November 24, 1858 ("It is lichen day. ").
November 6, 1853 (“The remarkable roundish, plump red buds of the high blueberry.")
November 13, 1852 ("Saw a flock of little passenger birds by Walden, busily pecking at the white birch catkins; about the size of a chickadee; distinct white bar on wings; most with dark pencilled breast, some with whitish ; forked tail ; bright chestnut or crimson (?) frontlet; yellowish shoulders or sack. When startled, they went off with a jingling sound somewhat like emptying a bag of coin. Is it the yellow redpoll? ")
November 21, 1852 ("The commonest bird I see and hear nowadays is that little red crowned or fronted bird I described the 13th. I hear now more music from them. They have a mewing note which reminds me of a canary-bird. They make very good forerunners of winter. Is it not the ruby-crowned wren?")
November 29, 1858 ("I see a living shrike caught to-day in the barn of the Middlesex House.”)
December 2, 1852 ("The ruby-crowned wren (?) flies and mews over.")
December 2, 1857 ("I observed two painted tortoises moving about under the thin transparent ice. When I broke it with my fist over each in succession, it was stunned by the blow.")
December 4, 1856 ("I have no doubt that it is an important relief to the eyes which have long rested on snow, to rest on brown oak leaves and the bark of trees. We want the greatest variety within the smallest compass, and yet without glaring diversity, and we have it in the colors of the withered oak leaves.")
December 4, 1856 ("I have no doubt that it is an important relief to the eyes which have long rested on snow, to rest on brown oak leaves and the bark of trees. We want the greatest variety within the smallest compass, and yet without glaring diversity, and we have it in the colors of the withered oak leaves.")
December 4, 1854 (“Already the bird-like birch scales dot the snow. ”)
December 4, 1856 (“I see where the pretty brown bird-like birch scales and winged seeds have been blown into the numerous hollows of the thin crusted snow.”)
December 6, 1854 ("I see thick ice and boys skating all the way to Providence, but know not when it froze, I have been so busy writing my lecture.")
December 6, 1856 ("Skating is fairly begun. The river is generally frozen over, though it will bear quite across in very few places.")
December 7, 1856 ("Take my first skate to Fair Haven Pond. “)
December 8, 1854 (“There is a glorious clear sunset sky, soft and delicate and warm”)
December 9, 1859 (" I observe at mid-afternoon, the air being very quiet and serene, that peculiarly softened western sky, which perhaps is seen commonly after the first snow has covered the earth. . . .[T]here is just enough invisible vapor, perhaps from the snow, to soften the blue, giving it a slight greenish tinge. Thus, methinks, it often happens that as the weather is harder the sky seems softer")
December 9, 1859 ("Methinks it often happens that as the weather is harder the sky seems softer.")
December 9, 1852 ("Those little ruby-crowned wrens (?) 1 still about. They suddenly dash away from this side to that in flocks, with a tumultuous note, half jingle, half rattle, like nuts shaken in a bag, or a bushel of nutshells, soon returning to the tree they had forsaken on some alarm. They are oftenest seen on the white birch, apparently feeding on its seeds, scattering the scales about.")
December 11, 1858 (“a minnow — apparently a young shiner, but it has a dark longitudinal line along side ”)
December 11, 1858 (“a minnow — apparently a young shiner, but it has a dark longitudinal line along side ”)
December 12, 1858 (“See a shrike on a dead pine”)
December 12, 1859 ("The night comes on early these days, and I soon see the pine tree tops distinctly outlined against the dun (or amber) but cold western sky.")
December 13, 1858 ("A damp day brings out the color of oak leaves, somewhat as of lichens. They are of a brighter and deeper leather-color, richer and more wholesome, . . .their tints brought out and their lobes more flattened out, and they show to great advantage, these trees hanging still with leather-colored leaves in this mizzling rain, seen against the misty sky.")
December 14, 1850 ("I walk on Loring's Pond to three or four islands there which I have never visited.")
December 14. 1851 ("The boys have been skating for a week, but I have had no time to skate for surveying. I have hardly realized that there was ice, though I have walked over it about this business.")
December 16, 1855 ("The mist makes the near trees dark and noticeable")
December 16, 1850 ("Walden is open still. ")
December 17, 1850 ("Walden is only slightly skimmed over a rod from the shore.")December 16, 1855 ("The mist makes the near trees dark and noticeable")
December 16, 1850 ("Walden is open still. ")
December 17, 1859 ("Two or three acres of Walden, off the bar, not yet frozen.")
December 19, 1850 ("Yesterday I tracked a partridge in the new-fallen snow, till I came to where she took to flight, and I could track her no further. ")
December 19, 1854 ("Off Clamshell I heard and saw a large flock of Fringilla linaria over the meadow. . . . Most had a crimson crown or frontlet, and a few a crimson neck and breast, very handsome. . . .Common as they are now, and were winter before last, I saw none last winter.")December 19, 1850 ("The wild apples are frozen as hard as stones, and rattle in my pockets, but I find that they soon thaw when I get to my chamber and yield a sweet cider. I am astonished that the animals make no more use of them.")
December 19, 1854 ("Skated a half-mile up Assabet and then to foot of Fair Haven Hill. This is the first tolerable skating.”)
December 19, 1856 ("The ice is now from two and a half to three inches thick, a transparent green ice, through which I see the bottom.")
December 19, 1851 ("Now the sun sets suddenly without a cloud– & with scarcely any redness following so pure is the atmosphere – only a faint rosy blush along the horizon.");
December 19, 1851 ("Now the sun sets suddenly without a cloud– & with scarcely any redness following so pure is the atmosphere – only a faint rosy blush along the horizon.");
December 20, 1854 ("The sky in the eastern horizon has that same greenish-vitreous, gem-like appearance which it has at sundown, as if it were of perfectly clear glass, —with the green tint of a large mass of glass.")
December 21, 1851 ("How swiftly the earth appears to revolve at sunset, which at midday appears to rest on its axle!")
December 21, 1856 ("The pond [Walden] is open again in the middle, owing to the rain of yesterday")December 23, 1858 ("See a shrike on the top of an oak.”)
December 23, 1851 ("I see that there is to be a fine, clear sunset, and make myself a seat in the snow on the Cliff to witness it.")
December 23, 1859 ("A little black, or else a brown, spider (sometimes quite a large one) motionless on the snow or ice.")
December 24, 1858 ("Another shrike this afternoon, — the fourth this winter!")
December 24, 1859 (" I see the tracks of a partridge ' ' ' She may have come to bud these blueberry trees. I see where she spent the night at the bottom of the largest clump, in the snow.")December 24, 1858 ("Two places in middle of Walden not frozen over yet, though it was quite cold last night! “)
December 24, 1853 ("Walden almost entirely open again.")
December 24, 1856 ("Am surprised to find Walden still open in the middle.")
December 25, 1851 (“I go forth to see the sun set. Who knows how it will set, even half an hour beforehand ?”)
December 25, 1858 ("How full of soft, pure light the western sky now, after sunset! . . . In a pensive mood I enjoy the complexion of the winter sky at this hour.");
December 26, 1850 (“Walden not yet more than half frozen over.”)
December 27, 1853 ("It is a true winter sunset, almost cloudless, clear, cold indigo-y along the horizon.")
December 29, 1855 (“Just before reaching the Cut I see a shrike flying low beneath the level of the railroad, which rises and alights on the topmost twig of an elm within four or five rods. All ash or bluish-slate above down to middle of wings; dirty-white breast, and a broad black mark through eyes on side of head; primaries(?) black, and some white appears when it flies. Most distinctive its small hooked bill (upper mandible).It makes no sound, but flits to the top of an oak further off. Probably a male.”)
December 30, 1855 (“For a few days I have noticed the snow sprinkled with alder and birch scales.”)
December 31, 1851 ("Nature has a day for each of her creatures, her creations. To-day it is an exhibition of lichens at Forest Hall.”)January 2, 1853 ("Brown thinks my ruby wren may be the lesser redpoll linnet.")
January 6, 1854 ("Frequently see a spider apparently stiff and dead on snow.")
January 7, 1855 (“It is a lichen day. . . . How full of life and of eyes is the damp bark!”)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 11, 1852 ("The glory of these afternoons, though the sky may be mostly overcast, is in the ineffably clear blue, or else pale greenish-yellow, patches of sky in the west just before sunset.")
January 12, 1855 (“Well may the tender buds attract us at this season, no less than partridges, for they are the hope of the year, the spring rolled up. The summer is all packed in them.”)
January 26, 1852 ("The lichens look rather bright to-day, . . .The beauty of lichens, with their scalloped leaves, the small attractive fields, the crinkled edge! I could study a single piece of bark for hour.”)\
January 26, 1858 (“This is a lichen day. The white lichens, partly encircling aspens and maples, look as if a painter had touched their trunks with his brush as he passed”)
\February 3, 1856 (“see near the Island a shrike glide by, cold and blustering as it was, with a remarkably even and steady sail or gliding motion like a hawk, eight or ten feet above the ground, and alight in a tree”)
February 5, 1853 ("It is a lichen day . . . All the world seems a great lichen and to grow like one to-day, - a sudden humid growth.”)
February 5, 1859 ("I see another butcher-bird on the top of a young tree by the pond.")
February 20, 1857 ("Minott always sits in the corner behind the door, close to the stove")
February 24, 1854 ("Observe in one of the little pond-holes between Walden and Fair Haven where a partridge had travelled around in the snow . . . and had paused at each high blueberry bush, fed on its red buds and shaken down fragments of its bark on the snow.”)March 5, 1853 (“They have a sharp bill, black legs and claws, and a bright-crimson crown or frontlet, in the male reaching to the base of the bill, with, in his case, a delicate rose or carmine on the breast and rump. Though this is described by Nuttall as an occasional visitor in the winter, it has been the prevailing bird here this winter. ”)
December 18, 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.
December 17 <<<<<<<< December 18 >>>>>>>> December 19
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, December 18
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
