1.12.2014

one great creature
...Thoreau's Journal: 12-Jan-1855

Perhaps what moves us most in winter is some reminiscence of far-off summer. How we leap by the side of the open brooks! What beauty in the running brooks! What life! What society! The cold is merely superficial; it is summer still at the core, far, far within. 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, as if deadened by the springlike vapor which the sun is drawing from the ground. It mingles with the slight murmur of the village, the sound of children at play, as one stream empties gently into another, and the wild and tame are one. 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, and have engaged not to shoot nor stone him if he will caw to me each spring. On the one hand, it may be, is the sound of children at school saying their a, b, ab’s, on the other, far in the wood-fringed horizon, the cawing of crows from their blessed eternal vacation, out at their long recess, children who have got dismissed! While the vaporous incense goes up from all the fields of the spring—if it were spring. Ah, bless the Lord, O my soul! bless him for wildness, for crows that will not alight within gunshot! and bless him for hens, too, that croak and cackle in the yard!

4 comments:

michael jameson said...

winter is a time to appreciate and remember how summer felt and looked,it means nothing if you summer all year round!,we have a chance to enjoy it even when it is not there!.

jimkitt said...

I agree with michael about the changing seasons. Today I would be hard pressed to say anything nice about winter snows, but in a couple months from now crocus will appear, and we'll be able to swap lies about how deep our snow was. Enjoy it all, time moves quickly.

hooting said...

California coast is 70 degrees tomorrow. Is snow that funny squishy white stuff they show on TV?

Northland said...

Very nice excerpt from Thoreau's winter journals. Here he praises the wild as well as the man-reared domestic scene. Nice balance!