Thoreau writes in his journal:
Snow quite deep. The sun had set without a cloud in the sky,—a rare occurrence, but I missed the clouds, which make the glory of evening . . .
Venus is now like a little moon in the west, and the lights in the village twinkle like stars. It is perfectly still and not very cold . . .
The reflector of the cars, as I stand over the Deep Cut, makes a large and dazzling light in this air . . .
Now through the Spring Woods and up Fair Haven Hill. Here, in the midst of a clearing where the choppers have been leaving the woods in pieces to-day, and the tops of the pine trees are strewn about half buried in snow, only the saw-logs being carried off, it is stiller and milder than by day . . .
The moonlight now is very splendid in the untouched pine woods above the Cliffs, alternate patches of shade and light . . .