Log Search Results | The Walden Woods Project

Thoreau writes in his journal:

P.M.—To Flint’s Pond, down railroad . . . What is that long-leaved green plant in the brook in Hosmer’s meadow on the Turnpike? The buttercup leaves appear everywhere when the ground is bare . . . As I go up Bare Hill, there being only snow enough there to whiten the ground, the last years’ stems of the blueberry (vacillans) give a pink tinge to the hillside, reminding me of red snow, though they do not semble it. I am surprised to see Flint’s Pond a quarter part open,—the middle. Walden, which froze much later, is nowhere open. But Flint’s feels the wind and is shallow . . . I found some barberry sprouts where the bushes had been cut down not long since, and they were covered with small withered leaves beset with stiff prickles on their edges, and you could see the thorns, as it were gradually passing into leaves, being, as one stage, the nerves of the leaf alone,—starlike and branched thorns, gradually, as you descended the stem, getting some pulp between them. I suppose it was owing to the shortening them in. I still pick chestnuts. Some larger ones proved to contain double meats . . . I saw to-day, where a creeping juniper had been burnt, radical leaves of johnswort, thistle, clover, dandelion, etc., as well as sorrel and veronica.

(Journal, 4:474-477)

Concord, Mass. William Ellery Channing writes in his journal:

Walden shore to-day in all its festive dress of sunlight, ice, & snow . . . A large piece of Flint’s pond is open. Handsome winter berry. [Burnt house?]. H. D. T. came over . . . Abnormal barberry leaves, thorny on edges. Sorrel, buttercup, Johnswort, clover, & thistle leaves . . . Gathered some chestnuts to-day. Flint’s pond open for perhaps 20 acres.

(William Ellery Channing notebooks and journals. Houghton Library, Harvard University)

25 January 1854. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

At noon return to Concord.

A very cold day.

Saw a man in Worcester this morning who took a pride in never wearing gloves or mittens. Drives in the morning. Said he succeeded by keeping his arm and wrist well covered. He had a large hand, one of his fingers as big as three of mine. But this morning he had to give up . . .

(Journal, 6:76-77)

25 January 1855. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

P.M.—To Andromeda Ponds. This morning was a perfect hunter’s morn, for it snowed about three quarters of an inch last evening, covering land and ice. Is not good skating a sign of snow? In the swamps, however, where there was water oozed out over the ice, there is no snow, but frozen slosh . . .

(Journal, 7:141-144)

25 January 1856. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

P.M.—Up river.

The hardest day to bear that we have had, for, being 5° at noon and at 4 P.M., there is a strong northwest wind . . . Pierce says it is the first day that he has been unable to work outdoors in the sun . . .

(Journal, 8:141-142)

25 January 1857. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

P.M.—To Bittern Rock on river.

The road beyond Hubbard’s Bridge has been closed by snow for two or three weeks; only the walls show that there has been a road there. Travellers take to the fields . . .

(Journal, 9:231)

25 January 1858. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

A warm, moist day. Thermometer at 6.30 P.M. at 49° . . .

You must love the crust of the earth on which you dwell more than the sweet crust of any bread or cake. You must be able to extract nutriment out of a sandheap. You must have so good an appetite as this, else you will live in vain . . .

(Journal, 10:258-259)

Bronson Alcott writes to Ainsworth R. Spofford:

Last evening I saw Thoreau who is trenchant and masterly as ever. He had been reading some papers in Drawing rooms to a good company lately at Lynn (The Letters of A. Bronson Alcott, 279).

Athol, Mass. An unidentified person writes to Thoreau:

Dear Sir: Send me a copy [. . .] (MS, Thoreau papers. Brown University Library, Providence, R.I.).

25 January 1859. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

The river has gone down about eight inches, and the ice still adhering to the shore all about the meadows slants downward for some four or five feet till it meets the water, and it is there cracked . . .

(Journal, 11:428-429)

25 January 1860. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

In keeping a journal of one’s walks and thoughts it seems to be worth the while to record those phenomena which are most interesting to us at the time. Such is the weather. It makes a material difference whether it is foul or fair, affecting surely our mood and thoughts. Then there are various degrees and kinds of foulness and fairness . . .

Saw A. Hosmer approaching in his pung. He calculated so that we should meet just when he reached the bare planking of the causeway bridge, so that his horse might as it were stop of his own accord and no other excuse would be needed for a talk . . .

(Journal, 13:106-108)

25 July 1839. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

There is no remedy for love but to love more (Journal, 1:88).

25 July 1841. Scituate, Mass.?

Ellen Sewall writes in her diary:

After breakfast George [Simmons] gave me his Fast day sermon, the Harrison Fast. We had some chat. I read some of Henry Thoreau’s pieces aloud to them. Charles thought them very pretty. The favorite was, “Up This Pleasant Stream Lets Row”. That is the first piece Henry gave me in, “days long passed, in years not worth remembering”. I wonder if his thoughts ever wander back to those times when the hours sped so pleasantly and we were so happy. I think they do. I little thought then that he cared for me so much as subsequent events have proved.

(Transcript in The Thoreau Society Archives at the Thoreau Institute at Walden Woods; MS, private owner)

Return to the Log Index

Donation