2.12.2007
Thoreau's Journal: 12-Feb-1854
To make a perfect winter day like this, you must have a clear, sparkling air, with a sheen from the snow, sufficient cold, little or no wind; and the warmth must come directly from the sun. It must not be a thawing warmth. The tension of nature must not be relaxed. The earth must be resonant if bare, and you hear the lisping tinkle of chickadees from time to time and the unrelenting cold-steel scream of a jay, unmelted, that never flows into a song, a sort of wintry trumpet, screaming cold; hard, tense, frozen music, like the winter sky itself; in the blue livery of winter’s band. It is like a flourish of trumpets to the winter sky. There is no hint of incubation in the jay’s scream. Like the creak of a cart-wheel. There is no cushion for sounds now. They tear our ears.
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4 comments:
I don't always like winter this much, Henry.
My dear Henry,
I continue to be impressed by your powers of observation! But I'm a little surprised at the "musts" you're listing. Freeze and thaw are friends, my friend.
Ah….the sweet, smell of perfume! Today's market is flooded with hundreds and hundreds of different fragrances
ranging from floral to woodsy. Most women love the smell of perfume, wearing it even when going to the grocery
store. The problem is that perfume allergy for some women, is anything but nice.
I think Henry liked it a little colder than I do. But I do like his phrase about the jay's call being a "a flourish of trumpets to the winter sky."
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