Another pleasant and warm day. Painted my boat this afternoon. These spring impressions (as of the apparent waking up of the meadow described day before yesterday) are not repeated the same year, at least not with the same force, for the next day the same phenomenon does not surprise us. Our appetitive has lost its edge. The other day the face of the meadows wore a peculiar appearance, as if it were beginning to wake up under the influence of the south-west wind and the warm sun, but it cannot again this year present precisely that appearance to me. I have taken a step forward to a new position and must see something else. You perceive, and are affected by, changes too subtle to be described.
So good that you post these Journal snippets. It is as though I can walk with Henry in my own Northwoods, conversing and comparing the weather and movement of the seasons (and without consulting my own copies of his Journals).
So true that the weather and his perception of nature "cannot again this year present precisely that appearance to me. I have taken a step forward to a new position..."
Each day is such a gift and is unique for each of us.
Thanks, Greg, for illuminating Thoreau's thoughts and observations.
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