The spring note of the chickadee.

January 9

Snows again.  P. M. – To Deep Cut. 

January 9, 2018

The wind is southwest, and the snow is very moist, with large flakes.

Looking toward Trillium Wood, the nearer flakes appear to move quite swiftly, often making the impression of a continuous white line. They are also seen to move directly and nearly horizontally, but the more distant flakes appear to loiter in the air, as if uncertain how they will approach the earth, or even to cross the course of the former, and are always seen as simple and distinct flakes. I think that this difference is simply owing to the fact that the former pass quickly over the field of view, while the latter are much longer in it. 

This moist snow has affected the yellow sulphur parmelias and others. They have all got a green hue, and the fruit of the smallest lichen looks fresh and fair. 

And the wet willow bark is a brighter yellow. 

Some chickadees come flitting close to me, and one utters its spring note, phe-be, for which I feel under obligations to him.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, January 9, 1858

The snow is very moist, with large flakes . . . the more distant flakes appear to loiter in the air, as if uncertain how they will approach the earth, or even to cross the course of the former.  See December 15. 1855 ("Some flakes come down from one side and some from another, crossing each other like woof and warp apparently, as they are falling in different eddies and currents of air."); December 14, 1859  ("Large flakes falling gently in the quiet air, like so many white feathers descending in different directions . . . A myriad falling flakes weaving a coarse garment by which the eye is amused.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Snow-storms might be classified.

This moist snow has affected the yellow sulphur parmelias. See January 26, 1852 ("The lichens look rather bright to-day . . .When they are bright and expanded, is it not a sign of a thaw or of rain? );  February 6, 1852 ("Near the C. Miles house there are some remarkably yellow lichens (parmelias?) on the rails, – ever as if the sun were about to shine forth clearly");  February 7, 1859 ("When I see the sulphur lichens on the rails brightening with the moisture I feel like studying them again as a relisher or tonic . . . They are a sort of winter greens which we gather and assimilate with our eyes"); March 6, 1852 ("Found three or four parmelias caperata in fruit on a white oak on the high river-bank between Tarbell's and Harrington’s") ; March 18, 1852 ("There is more rain than snow now falling, and the lichens, especially the Parmelia conspersa, appear to be full of fresh fruit, though they are nearly buried in snow.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Lichens and the lichenst

And the wet willow bark is a brighter yellow. See December 5, 1858 (" The yellowish bark of the willows gleams warmly through the ice"); January 3, 1856 ("Now, when all the fields and meadows are covered deep with snow, the warm-colored shoots of osiers, red and yellow, rising above it, remind me of flames.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Osier in Winter and early Spring

Some chickadees come flitting close to me, and one utters its spring note, phe-be. See  

The chickadee

Hops near to me.

November 8, 1857

The chickadee hops

nearer and nearer as the

winter advances.

December 1, 1853

Chickadees flit close

and naively peck at the

nearest twig to you,

December 3, 1856

January 7, 1851 ("January thaw. . . . and the chickadees are oftener heard."); January 7, 1855 ("Here comes a little flock of titmice, plainly to keep me company,. . . restlessly hopping along the alders, with a sharp, clear, lisping note."); January 18, 1860 ("Several chickadees, uttering their faint notes, come flitting near to me as usual."); February 9, 1856 ("I hear a phoebe note from a chickadee"); March 1, 1854 (" I hear the phoebe or spring note of the chickadee"); March 1, 1856 ("I hear several times the fine-drawn phe-be note of the chickadee, which I heard only once during the winter. Singular that I should hear this on the first spring day.")  See also A Book of the Seasons,   by Henry Thoreau, the Chickadee in Winter; A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau,  Signs of the Spring, the spring note of the chickadee

January 9. See A Book of the Seasons,   by Henry Thoreau January 9

Some chickadees come 

flitting close to me and one 

utters its spring note. 

A Book of the Seasons,   by Henry Thoreau, The spring note of the chickadee

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

https://tinyurl.com/hdt-580109

Already the bird-like birch scales dot the snow.

December 4.

Down railroad to Walden. 

Walden went down quite rapidly about the middle of November, leaving the isthmus to Emerson’s meadow bare. Flint’s has been very low all summer. 

The northeast sides of the trees are thickly incrusted with snowy shields, visible afar, the snow was so damp (at Boston it turned to rain). This had none of the dry delicate powdery beauties of a common first snow. 

Already the bird-like birch scales dot the snow.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, December 4, 1854

Already the bird-like birch scales dot the snow. See 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. So bountiful a table is spread for the birds. For how many thousand miles this grain is scattered over the earth.")

December 4. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, December 4; A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, I love you like I love the sky

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

Early spring wet snow.

March 18.

This morning the ground is again covered with snow, and the storm still continues. This afternoon the woods and walls and the whole face of the country wear once more a wintry aspect, though there is more moisture in the snow and the trunks of the trees are whitened now on a more southerly or southeast side. 

These slight falls of snow which come and go again so soon when the ground is partly open in the spring, perhaps helping to open and crumble and prepare it for the seed, are called "the poor man's manure."

There is more rain than snow now falling, and the lichens, especially the Parmelia conspersa, appear to be full of fresh fruit, though they are nearly buried in snow. The Evernia jubata might now be called even a very dark olive-green. I feel a certain sympathy with the pine or oak fringed with lichens in a wet day. They remind me of the dewy and ambrosial vigor of nature and of man's prime.

The pond is still very little melted around the shore.

As I go by a pile of red oak recently split in the woods and now wet with rain, I perceive its strong urine-like scent. I see within the trunks solid masses of worm or ant borings, turned to a black or very dark brown mould, purest of virgin mould, six inches in diameter and some feet long, within the tree, - the tree turned to mould again before its fall.

But this snow has not driven back the birds. I hear the song sparrow's simple strain, most genuine herald of the spring, and see flocks of chubby northern birds with the habit of snowbirds, passing north.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, March 18, 1852

These slight falls of snow which come and go again so soon when the ground is partly open in the spring are called "the poor man's manure." See March 12, 1857 ("Snowed again last night, as it has done once or twice before within ten days without my recording it, — robin snows, which last but a day or two.")

But this snow has not driven back the birds. See January11 & 12, 1853 ("A "robin snow," as it is called, i. e. a snow which does not drive off the robins")