Thoreau's Journal: 12-Oct-1858

I land at Pinxter Swamp. The leaves of the azaleas are falling, mostly fallen, and revealing the large blossom-buds, so prepared are they for another year. With man all is uncertainty. He does not look forwardly to another spring. But examine the root of the savory-leaved aster, and you will find the new shoots, fair purple shoots, which are to curve upward and bear the next year’s flowers, already grown half an inch or more in earth. Nature is confident.


Anonymous said...

It is a pleasure to see you posting these excerpts from the journal again. I feared that you had stopped. This blog is a great idea! Thanks for your effort.

son rivers said...

Why, thank you. I really appreciate that. What with the long Columbus Day weekend and a persistent cold that I'm having some difficulty shaking, I've been a bit behind. But I'm enjoying my daily meetings with Henry and I intend to be in this for the long haul. And I'm glad you are enjoying it too.

Evelio said...


Your blog is beautifully amazing. Time is a complex subject. Early in the morning I read the new entry, the words Thoreau wrote years ago. I feel lost in a time labyrinth: ubiquity in time.