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Thoreau writes in his journal:

The Stellaria media is full of frost-bitten blossoms, containing stamens, etc., still and half-grown buds. Apparently it never rests (Journal, 4:487).

2 February 1854. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

Up river on ice to Clematis Brook . . .

We go up the Corner road and take the ice at Potter’s Meadow. The Cliff Hill is nearly bare on the west side, and you hear the rush of melted snow down its side in one place . . .

We stopped awhile under Bittern Cliff, the south side, where it is very warm. There are a few greenish radical leaves to be seen, -primrose and johnswort, strawberry, etc., and spleenwort still green in the clefts. These sunny old gray rocks, completely covered with white and gray lichens and overrun with ivy, are a very cosy place. You hardly detect the incited snow swiftly trickling . . .

(Journal, 6:90-91)

2 February 1855. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

Brown is again filling his ice-house, which he commenced to do some weeks ago. I got another skate this afternoon, in spite of the thin coating of snow. Snowed again half an inch more in the evening, after which, at ten o’clock, the moon still obscured, I skated on the river and meadows . . . Our skates make but little sound in this coating of snow about an inch thick, as if we had on woollen skates, and we can easily see our tracks in the night. We seem thus to go faster than before by day, not only because we do not see (but feel and imagine) our rapidity, but because of the impression which the mysterious muffled sound of our feet makes.

(Journal, 7:162-164)

Thoreau also writes to Franklin B. Sanborn:

Mr F. B. Sanborn.

Dear Sir,

I fear that you did not get the note which I left with the Librarian for you, and so will thank you again for your politeness. I was sorry that I was obliged to go into Boston almost immediately. However, I shall be glad to see you whenever you come to Concord, and I will suggest nothing to discourage your coming so far as I am concerned, trusting that you know what it is to take partridge on the wing.

You tell me that the author of the criticism is Mr. Morton. I had heard as much, & indeed guessed more. I have latterly found Concord nearer to Cambridge than I believed I should, when I was leaving my Alma Mater, and hence you will not be surprised if even I feel some interest in the success of the Harvard Magazine.

Believe me
Yrs truly
Henry D Thoreau

(The Correspondence of Henry David Thoreau, 369-370)

2 February 1856. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

Snowed again last night, perhaps an inch, erasing the old tracks and giving us a blank page again . . . (Journal, 8:160).

2 February 1857. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

The snow-crust on all hills and knolls is now marked by the streams of water that have flowed down it, like a coarsely combed head; i.e., the unbroken crust is in alternate ridges and furrows from the tops of the hills to the bottoms . . .

(Journal, 9:235)

2 February 1858. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

Still rains, after a rainy night with a little snow, forming slosh. As I return from the post-office, I hear the hoarse, robin-like chirp of a song sparrow on Cheney’s ground, and see him perched on the topmost twig of a heap of brush, looking forlorn and drabbled and solitary in the rain . . .

(Journal, 10:273)

2 February 1859. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

I see Peter Hutchinson cutting down a large red oak on A. Heywood’s hillside, west of the former’s house . . . (Journal, 11:434).

2 February 1860. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

6º below at about 8 A.M.

Clock has stopped. Teams squeak.

2 P.M.—To Fair Haven Pond . . .

About 3 P.M. I noticed a distinct fragment of rainbow, about as long as wide, on each side of the sun, one north and the [other] south and at the same height above the horizon with the sun, all in a line parallel with the horizon; and, as I thought, there was a slight appearance of a bow . . .

It is remarkable that the straw-colored sedge of the meadows, which in the fall is one of the least noticeable colors, should, now that the landscape is mostly covered with snow, be perhaps the most noticeable of all objects in it for its color, and an agreeable contrast to the snow . . .

(Journal, 13:118-124)

2 January 1842. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

The ringing of the church bell is a much more melodious sound than any that is heard within the church (Journal, 1:309-311).

2 January 1845. Concord, Mass.

Bronson Alcott writes to his brother Junius Alcott:

Emerson, Thoreau &c are busy as usual. (The Letters of A. Bronson Alcott, 117).