As long as there is a spark of love remaining.

February 15

Fatal is the discovery that our friend is fallible, that he has prejudices. He is, then, only prejudiced in our favor. What is the value of his esteem who does not justly esteem another? Alas! Alas! when my friend begins to deal in confessions, breaks silence, makes a theme of friendship (which then is always something past), and descends to merely human relations! 

February 15, 2022

As long as there is a spark of love remaining, cherish that alone. Only that can be kindled into a flame. 

I thought that friendship, that love was still possible between [us]. I thought that we had not withdrawn very far asunder. But now that my friend rashly, thoughtlessly, profanely speaks, recognizing the distance between us, that distance seems infinitely increased. 

Of our friends we do not incline to speak, to complain, to others; we would not disturb the foundations of confidence that may still be.

Why should we not still continue to live with the intensity and rapidity of infants? 

Is not the world, are not the heavens, as unfathomed as ever? 

Have we exhausted any joy, any sentiment? 

The author of Festus well exclaims:

          "Could we but think with the intensity

          We love with, we might do great things, I think."

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, February 15, 1851

Should we not continue to live with intensity? See May 24, 1857 ("We want no[t] completeness but intensity of life.")

Recognizing the distance between us, that distance seems infinitely increased. See e.g. January 21, 1852 ("I never realized so distinctly as this moment that I am peacefully parting company with the best friend I ever had,"); February 8, 1857 ("I know that in love there is no mistake, and that every estrangement is well founded.")

The author of Festus.  Philip James Bailey. See Festus: A Poem, p. 320

As long as there is 

a spark of love remaining,

cherish that alone.

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, 

As long as there is a spark of love remaining

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 ©  2009-2026

tinyurl.com/hdt-510215

A Book of the Seasons, Signs of the Spring: The Days have grown Sensibly Longer

No mortal is alert enough 

to be present at the first dawn of the spring. 

Henry Thoreau, March 17, 1857

One attraction in coming to the woods to live was 

that I should have leisure and opportunity to see the spring come in. 

The ice in the pond at length begins to be honey-combed . . . 

the days have grown sensibly longer; 

and I see how I shall get through the winter without adding to my wood-pile.

 Walden

December 28. Since the snow of the 23d, the days seem considerably lengthened, owing to the increased light after sundown. December 28, 1856

January 3. From the Peak, I look over the wintry landscape . . . The twilight appears to linger. The day seems suddenly longer. January 3, 1854

January 7. I perceive the increased length of the day on returning from my afternoon walk. Can it be? The sun sets only about five minutes later, and the day is about ten minutes longer. January 7, 1853

January 20. The days are now sensibly longer, and half past five is as light as five was. January 20, 1852

January 23. The increased length of the days is very observable of late. January 23, 1854

January 24. The sun sets about five.January 24, 1852

January 25. There is something springlike in this afternoon . . . The earth and sun appear to have approached some degrees. January 25, 1853

January 25. For a week or two the days have been sensibly longer, and it is quite light now when the five-o’clock train comes in January 25, 1855

February 9. It is midwinter. Within a few days the cold has set in stronger than ever, though the days are much longer now . . . February 9, 1851

February 18.   Now for the first time decidedly there is something spring-suggesting in the air and light. Though not particularly warm, the light of the sun (now travelling so much higher) on the russet fields, —the ground being nearly all bare, —and on the sand and the pines, is suddenly yellower. It is the earliest day-breaking of the year.  February 18, 1855 

February 19. The lengthening of the days, commenced a good while ago, is a kind of forerunner of the spring. February 19, 1852

February 23. I have seen signs of the spring. February 23, 1857

February 27.  Though it was a dry, powdery snow-storm yesterday, the sun is now so high that the snow is soft and sticky this afternoon. February 27, 1859

February 27.  The abundance of light as reflected from clouds and the snow, etc., etc. is more springlike than anything of late.  February 27, 1860

March 15. Notwithstanding this day is so cold that I keep my ears covered, the sidewalks melt in the sun, such is its altitude. March 15, 1853

March 18. The season is so far advanced that the sun affects me as I have not been affected for a long time. I must go forth . . . All nature is thus forward to move with the revolution of the seasons . . . This the foreglow of the year, when the walker goes home at eve to dream of summer. March 18, 1853

March 18. Two little water-bugs . . . Notwithstanding the backwardness of the season, all the town still under deep snow and ice, here they are, in the first open and smooth water, governed by the altitude of the sun. March 18, 1856

See also Signs of the Spring:

• A Change in the Air
• A Sunny Nook in Spring
• Alder and Willow Catkins Expanding
• Braided Ripples of Melting Snow Shine in the Ruts
• Bright Blue Water
• Buzzing Flies
• Ducks Afar, Sailing on the Meadow
• Frogs, and Turtles Stirring
• Geese Overhead
• Greening Grasses and Sedges
• I begin to think that my wood will last
• Insects and Worms Come Forth and are Active
• Listening for the Bluebird
• March is famous for its Winds
• Mosses Bright Green
• My Greatcoat on my Arm
• Perla-like Insects Appear
• Red Maple Sap Flows
• Ripples made by Fishes
• Skunks Active
• The Anxious Peep of the Early Robin
• The crowing of cocks, the cawing of crows
• The Days have grown Sensibly Longer
• The Eaves Begin to Run
• The Gobbling of Turkeys
• The Grackle Arrives
• The Hawks of March
• The New Warmth of the Sun
• The Note of the Dark-eyed Junco Going Northward
• The Red-Wing Arrives
• The Skunk Cabbage Blooms
• The Softened Air of these Warm February Days
• The Song Sparrow Sings
• The Spring Note of the Chickadee
• The Spring Note of the Nuthatch
• The Striped Squirrel Comes Out
• The Water Bug (Gyrinus)
• The Woodchuck Ventures Out
• Walking without Gloves
• Woodpeckers Tapping

 

  <<<<< Signs of Spring     Early Spring >>>>>

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Signs of the Spring; The Days have grown Sensibly Longer

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

A Book of the Seasons, Signs of the Spring: The Crowing of Cocks and the Cawing of Crows

No mortal is alert enough 

to be present at the first dawn of the spring. 

Henry Thoreau, March 17, 1857

Perhaps what most moves us in winter

is some reminiscence of far-off summer . . .

It is in the cawing of the crow, the crowing of the cock,

the warmth of the sun on our backs.

I hear faintly the cawing of a crow far, far away,

echoing from some unseen wood-side. What a delicious sound!

It is not merely crow calling to crow, for it speaks to me too.

I am part of one great creature with him; if he has voice,

I have ears. I can hear when he calls.

January 12, 1855

January 22. Crows . . . are heard cawing in pleasant, thawing winter weather, and their note is then a pulse by which you feel the quality of the air. January 22, 1860

January 30.  There are certain sounds invariably heard in warm and thawing days in winter, such as the crowing of cocks, the cawing of crows, and sometimes the gobbling of turkeys. January 30, 1860

February 8. Riordan's solitary cock, standing on such an icy snow-heap, feels the influence of the softened air, and the steam from patches of bare ground here and there, and has found his voice again. The warm air has thawed the music in his throat, and he crows lustily and unweariedly, his voice rising to the last.  February 8, 1857

February  8. A different sound comes to my ear now from iron rails which are struck, as from the cawing crows, etc. Sound is not abrupt, piercing, or rending, but softly sweet and musical. February 8, 1860

February 11. I thought it would be a thawing day by the sound, the peculiar sound, of cock-crowing in the morning. February 11, 1856

February 12. The eaves run fast on the south side of houses, and, as usual in this state of the air, the cawing of crows at a distance. February 12, 1855

February 14.The distant crowing of cocks and the divine harmony of the telegraph, — all spring-promising sounds. February 14, 1854

February 16. Sounds sweet and musical through this air, as crows, cocks, and striking on the rails at a distance. February 16, 1855

February 16. The sun is most pleasantly warm on my cheek; the melting snow shines in the ruts; the cocks crow more than usual in barns; my greatcoat is an incumbrance. February 16, 1856

February 23. There is a slight mist above the fields, through which the crowing of cocks sounds springlike. February 23, 1856

February 23. I have seen signs of the spring. February 23, 1857

February 24. 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, 1852

March 2. We listen to the February cock-crowing and turkey-gobbling as to a first course, or prelude. March 2, 1859

March 4. We stood still a few moments and listened to hear a spring bird. We heard only the jay screaming in the distance and the cawing of a crow. March 4, 1859

March 16.   The crowing of cocks and the cawing of crows tell the same story. The ice is soggy and dangerous to be walked on. March 16, 1858

March 22. The phenomena of an average March . . . About twenty-nine migratory birds arrive (including hawks and crows), and two or three more utter their spring notes and sounds, as nuthatch and chickadee, turkeys, and woodpecker tapping. March 22, 1860

So I came in and

shut the door and passed my first

spring night in the woods.

Walden, Spring

See also Signs of the Spring:

• A Change in the Air
• A Sunny Nook in Spring
• Alder and Willow Catkins Expanding
• Braided Ripples of Melting Snow Shine in the Ruts
• Bright Blue Water
• Buzzing Flies
• Ducks Afar, Sailing on the Meadow
• Frogs, and Turtles Stirring
• Greening Grasses and Sedges
• Insects and Worms Come Forth and are Active
• Listening for the Bluebird
• March is famous for its Winds
• Mosses Bright Green
• My Greatcoat on my Arm
• Perla-like Insects Appear
• Red Maple Sap Flows
• Ripples made by Fishes
• The Anxious Peep of the Early Robin
• The Crowing of Cocks, the Cawing of crows
• The Eaves Begin to Run
• The Gobbling of Turkeys
• The Grackle Arrives
• The Hawks of March
• The Note of the Dark-eyed Junco Going Northward
• The Red-Wing Arrives
• The Skunk Cabbage Blooms
• The Softened Air of these Warm February Days
• The Song Sparrow Sings
• The Spring Note of the Chickadee
• The Spring Note of the Nuthatch
• The Striped Squirrel Comes Out
• Walking without Gloves
• Woodpeckers Tapping

  <<<<< Signs of Spring                                                                Early Spring >>>>>

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau,  by Henry Thoreau, Signs of the Spring:  The crowing of cocks, the cawing of crows

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau,  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 © 2009-2026

A Book of the Seasons, Signs of the Spring: Mosses Bright Green

  

No mortal is alert enough

 to be present at the first dawn of the spring.

Henry Thoreau, March 17, 1857

Green mosses on rocks

nourished and kept bright by the

snows lying on them.

January 29, 1852

Little mounds or tufts

of yellowish or golden moss –

sunlight on the ground.

February 7, 1858

Mosses on the rocks

look green where snow has melted –

one of the spring signs.

February 18, 1852

Mosses now in fruit

are warmly red in the sun

when seen from one side.

April 25, 1857

January 25.  In winter, after middle, we are interested in what is springlike. The earth and sun appear to have approached some degrees. January 25, 1853

January 29. The green mosses on the rocks are evidently nourished and kept bright by the snows lying on them a part of the year. January 29, 1852

February 5, 2026

February 7.  Little mounds or tufts of yellowish or golden moss in the young woods look like sunlight on the ground. February 7, 1858

February 8. It is exciting to walk over the moist, bare pastures, though slumping four or five inches, and see the green mosses again. February 8, 1857

February 13.  The first flower of the season . . . The Ictodes fætidus. Also mosses, mingled red and green. The red will pass for the blossom. February 13, 1851 

February 18.    The mosses on the rocks look green where the snow has melted. This must be one of the spring signs, when spring comes. February 18, 1852 

February 23.   I have seen signs of the spring.  February 23, 1857

February 27. The mosses now are in fruit -- or have sent up their filaments with calyptrae.   February 27, 1852

March 2  I begin to notice the reddish stems of moss on low ground, not bright yet. At Brister Spring the dense bedded green moss is very fresh and handsome. March 2, 1860

March 3.   The mossy bank along the south side of Hosmer's second spring ditch is very interesting. There are many coarse, hair-like masses of that green and brown moss on its edge, hanging over the ditch, alternating with withered-looking cream-colored sphagnum tinged with rose-color, in protuberances, or mammae, a foot across on the perpendicular side of the ditch.  March 3, 1859  

March 4. I find a place on the south side of this rocky hill where the snow is melted and the bare gray rock appears, covered with mosses and lichens and beds of oak leaves in the hollows. The  sun shines with a genial warmth. The snow is melting on the rocks; the water trickles down in shining streams; the mosses look bright; the first awakening of vegetation at the root of the saxifrage. An oasis in the snow.  March 4, 1852

A cold and strong wind,

yet very warm in the sun,

sheltered on these rocks.

March 4, 1855

March 4.   I find near Hosmer Spring in the wettest ground, which has melted the snow as it fell, little flat beds of light-green moss, soft as velvet, which have recently pushed up,   and lie just above the surface of the water. They are scattered about in the old decayed trough. (And there are still more and larger at Brister's Spring.) They are like little rugs or mats and are very obviously of fresh growth, such a green as has not been dulled by winter, a very fresh and living, perhaps slightly glaucous, green.     March 4, 1859

March 7.   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 

March 10.   Fine red-stemmed mosses have begun to push and bud on Clamshell bank.   March 10, 1859 

March 22. The phenomena of an average March. . . Vegetation fairly begins, – conferva and mosses, grass and carex, etc., — and gradually many early herbaceous plants start . . . willow catkins become silvery, aspens downy; osiers, etc., look bright . . . alder and hazel catkins become relaxed and elongated. March 22, 1860

March 23, 2021

March 25. I see fine little green beds of moss peeping up at Brister's Spring above the water. March 25, 1853

April 2.  See the fine moss in the pastures with beautiful red stems even crimsoning the ground. This is its season. April 2, 1853 

April 2.  There are beds of fresh green moss in the midst of the shallow water.  April 2, 1856 

April 18.  That pretty, now brown-stemmed moss with green oval fruit. April 18, 1856 

April 25. The dense, green, rounded beds of mosses in springs and old water-troughs are very handsome now, — intensely cold green cushions.  April 25, 1857 

So I came in and

shut the door and passed my first

spring night in the woods.

Walden, Spring

See also  A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, At Brister's Spring

See also Signs of the Spring:

• Frogs, and Turtles Stirring
• Alder and Willow Catkins Expanding
• The spring note of the chickadee
• Buzzing Flies
• Perla-like Insects Appear
• Insects and worms come forth and are active
• Ripples made by fishes
• The Softened Air of these Warm February Days
• Walking without Gloves
• The gobbling of turkeys
• The Red-wing Arrives
• Red Maple Sap Flows
• The Skunk Cabbage Blooms
• Ducks afar, sailing on the meadow
• Listening for the bluebird
• A Sunny Nook in Spring
• A Change in the Air
• Bright blue water
• Greening grasses and sedges
• Braided Ripples of Melting Snow Shine in the Ruts
• The Striped Squirrel Comes Out
• The Hawks of March
• March is famous for its winds
• The anxious peep of the early robin
• The crowing of cocks, the cawing of crows
• The note of the dark-eyed junco going northward
• The Spring Note of the Nuthatch
• The Song Sparrow Sings
• The grackle arrives
• Woodpeckers tapping

<<<<< Signs of Spring                                                             Early Spring >>>>>

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Signs of the Spring: Mosses Bright Green

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-mosses

A Book of the Seasons, Signs of the Spring: Walking without Gloves

No mortal is alert enough 

to be present at the first dawn of the spring. 

Henry Thoreau, March 17, 1857

I am on the alert for the first signs of spring, 

to hear the chance note of some arriving bird, 

or the striped squirrel’s chirp . . .

or see the woodchuck venture out of his winter quarters.

 ~ Walden

Dreaming of summer

this warm and pleasant day – I

take off my mittens.

February 12, 1854

January 15

A bright day, not cold.

Celestial blue shadow,

walking without gloves.

January 15, 1856

January 23. A fine afternoon. There has been but little use for gloves this winter, though I have been surveying a great deal for three months. The sun, and cockcrowing, bare ground, etc., etc., remind me of March. Standing on the bridge over the Mill Brook on the Turnpike, there being but little ice on the south side, I see several small water-bugs (Gyrinus) swimming about, as in the spring. January 23, 1858

January 25. A very cold day. Saw a man in Worcester this morning who took a pride in never wearing gloves or mittens. But this morning he had to give up. The 22d, 23d, 24th, and 25th of this month have been the coldest spell of weather this winter. January 25, 1854

January 25. It is a rare day for winter, clear and bright, yet warm. The warmth and stillness in the hollows about the Andromeda Ponds are charming. You dispense with gloves. January 25, 1855

February 12. I am not aware till I come out how pleasant a day it is. It was very cold this morning, and I have been putting on wood in vain to warm my chamber, and lo! I come forth, and am surprised to find it warm and pleasant. There is very little wind, here under Fair Haven especially. I begin to dream of summer even. I take off my mittens. February 12, 1854

February 23. I have seen signs of the spring. February 23, 1857

March 7. At 9 o'clock P.M to the woods by the full moon. It is rather mild to-night. I can walk without gloves. There is no snow on the trees. The ground is thinly covered with a crusted snow, through which the dead grass and weeds appear, telling the nearness of spring. March 7, 1852

The first pleasant days

of spring come out like a squirrel

and go in again.

March 7, 1855

March 19. A fine clear and warm day for the season. Launch my boat. P. M. — Paddled to Fair Haven Pond. Very pleasant and warm, when the wind lulls and the water is perfectly smooth. I make the voyage without gloves. March 19, 1855

March 20. It is remarkable by what a gradation of days which we call pleasant and warm, beginning in the last of February, we come at last to real summer warmth. At first a sunny, calm, serene winter day is pronounced spring, or reminds us of it; and then the first pleasant spring day perhaps we walk with our greatcoat buttoned up and gloves on. March 20, 1855

So I came in and

shut the door and passed my first

spring night in the woods.

Walden, Spring

April 3. About 8.30 P. M. I walked to the Clamshell Hill. It is very cold and windy, and I miss my gloves, left at home.  Colder than the last moon. April 3, 1852

April 3. It is somewhat warmer, but still windy, and I go to sail down to the Island and up to Hubbard’s Causeway.  Most would call it cold to-day. I paddle without gloves. April 3, 1855

April 9. 5.15 A. M. —To Red Bridge just before sunrise. Fine clear morning, but still cold enough for gloves. A slight frost, and mist as yesterday curling over the smooth water. April 9, 1855

April 10. The morning of the 6th, when I found the skunk cabbage out, it was so cold I suffered from numbed fingers, having left my gloves behind. Since April came in, however, you have needed gloves only in the morning. April 10, 1855

April 22. Though my hands are cold this morning I have not worn gloves for a few mornings past, — a week or ten days. April 22, 1855

May 6. To-day it has spit a little snow and is very windy (northwest) and cold enough for gloves. Is not that the true spring when the F. hyemalis and tree sparrows are with us singing in the cold mornings with the song sparrows, and ducks and gulls are about? May 6, 1854

*****

So I came in and

shut the door and passed my first

spring night in the woods.

Walden, Spring

See also Signs of the Spring:

• Frogs, and Turtles Stirring 
• Alder and Willow Catkins Expanding
• Mosses Bright Green
• My Greatcoat on my Arm
• The spring note of the chickadee
• Buzzing Flies
• Perla-like Insects Appear
• Insects and worms come forth and are active
• The Softened Air of these Warm February Days
• The gobbling of turkeys
• The Red-wing Arrives
• Red Maple Sap Flows
• The Skunk Cabbage Blooms
• Ducks afar, sailing on the meadow
• Listening for the bluebird
• A Sunny Nook in Spring
• A Change in the Air
• Bright blue water
• Greening grasses and sedges
• Braided Ripples of Melting Snow Shine in the Ruts
• Skunks Active
• The Striped Squirrel Comes Out
• The crowing of cocks, the cawing of crows
• The Eaves Begin to Run
• The Hawks of March
• March is famous for its winds
• The anxious peep of the early robin
• Ripples made by fishes
• The note of the dark-eyed junco going northward
• The Spring Note of the Nuthatch
• The Song Sparrow Sings
• The grackle arrives
• Woodpeckers tapping

<<<<< Signs of Spring     Early Spring >>>>>

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Signs of the Spring: Walking without Gloves

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 ©  2009-2026

http://tinyurl.com/hdtgloves