Thoreau writes in his journal:
March fans it, April christens it, and May puts oil its Jacket and trousers. It never grows up, but Alexandrian-like “drags its slow length along,” ever springing, bud following close upon leaf, and when winter comes it is not annihilated, but creeps oil mole-like under the snow, showing its face nevertheless occasionally by fuming springs and watercourses.
