11.07.2006

Thoreau's Journal: 07-Nov-1853

The notes of one or two small birds, this cold morning, in the now comparatively leafless woods, sound like a nail dropped on an anvil, or a glass pendant tinkling against its neighbor.

The sun now rises far southward. I see westward the earliest sunlight on the reddish oak leaves and the pines. The former appear to get more than their share. How soon the sun gets above the hills, as if he would accomplish his whole diurnal journey in a few hours at this rate! But it is a long way round, and these are nothing to the till of heaven. Whether we are idle or industrious, the sun is constantly traveling through the sky, consuming arc after arc of this great circle at this same rapid pace.

Nightshade berries still in water or over it. Great straggling flocks of crows still flying westerly.

4 comments:

Dirk_Star said...

I lived his journey, you would enjoy my story. I lived homeless for two years... Best time of my life, except for now...

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iza said...

Nice blog! I love readin henry david thoreau quotes.

Cancer Type

DonW said...

Yes, Henry... it's the fall shoulder season here in L. Superior country. We may get snow or rain or sleet or occasional sun beams in rapid succession. Juncos and snowbird types still pecking the fallen seed until settling snow locks up the winter ground and they flee south. Jays and ravens pirating the skies of cold gray; the big lake settling down off the Keweenaw Point after its last gale; steel gray the primary color of this shoulder season trip into winter.

Cathy said...

Henry, I borrowed a few of your lines for my blog across the way (with attribution) and I hope you'll stop by on your way home to your hearth to stop and sit by mine for a warm cup and perhaps to enjoy the low slant of the afternoon sun.