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12 January 1859. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  Mr. Farmer brings me a hawk which he thinks has caught thirty or forty of his chickens since summer, for he has lost so many . . . (Journal, 11:396-398).
12 January 1860. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  The very slight rain of yesterday afternoon turned to snow in the night, and this morning considerable has fallen and is still falling. At noon it clears up. About eight inches deep.

  I go forth to walk on the Hill at 3 P.M.

  It is a very beautiful and spotless snow now, it having just ceased falling. You are struck by its peculiar tracklessness, as if it were a thick white blanket just spread. As it were, each snowflake lies as it first fell, or there is a regular gradation from the denser bottom up to the surface, which is perfectly light, and as it were fringed with the last flakes that fell. This was a star snow, dry, but the stars of considerable size . . .

  I notice, as I am returning half an hour before sunset, the thermometer about 24º, much vapor rising from the thin ice which has formed over the snow and water to-day by the riverside . . .

(Journal, 13:85-87)
12 January 1862. Concord, Mass.

Franklin B. Sanborn writes to Thoreau:

My dear Friend:

  If you have read the magazine which I loaned you the other day, (The Continental) will you have the goodness to give it to the bearer who will take it to Mrs [Sarah Bradford?] Ripley’s for Miss [Amelia?] Goodwin.

Yours truly
F. B. Sanborn

(The Correspondence of Henry David Thoreau, 635)
12 July 1817. Concord, Mass.
Henry D. Thoreau is born in a farmhouse on Virginia Road (Journal, 8:64).
Thoreau’s birthplace is now a museum listed on the National Register of Historic Places. Visit thoreaufarm.org for more information.
DAWES_018_Hosmer Thoreau Birthplace
Thoreau Birthplace (Photographer: Alfred W. Hosmer) (The Lewis C. Dawes Collection).
12 July 1840. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  What first suggested that necessity was grim, and made fate so fatal? The strongest is always the least violent. Necessity is a sort of Eastern cushion on which I recline. I contemplate its mild, inflexible countenance, as the haze in October days. When I am vexed I only ask to be left alone with it. Leave me to my fate.
(Journal, 1:168-170)
12 July 1846. Concord, Mass.

Bronson Alcott writes in his journal:

  Thoreau’s book—We walked to Thoreau who read me passages from his Concord and Merrimack Rivers, a pastoral book ready for the press (Amos Bronson Alcott papers. Houghton Library, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass.).
12 July 1850. Concord, Mass.

Ralph Waldo Emerson pays Thoreau $2.30 on a bill of James Connell’s (Ralph Waldo Emerson’s account books. Houghton Library, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass.).

12 July 1851. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  8 P.M.—Now at least the moon is full, and I walk alone, which is best by night, if not by day always . . . I see a skunk on Bear Garden Hill stealing noiselessly away from me, while the moon shines over the pitch pines, which send long shadows down the hill . . . At the foot of the Cliff hill I hear the sound of the clock striking nine, as distinctly as within a quarter of a mile usually, though there is no wind . . . As I return through the orchard, a foolish robin bursts away from his perch unnaturally, with the habits of man.
(Journal, 2:302-304)

Thoreau writes in his journal on 13 July:

  Observed yesterday, while surveying near [Charles?] Gordon’s, a bittern flying over near Gordon’s, with moderate flight and outstretched neck, its breastbone sticking out sharp like the bone in the throats of some persons, its anatomy exposed.
(Journal, 2:304)
12 July 1852. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  I observed this morning a row of several dozen swallows perched on the telegraph-wire by the bridge, and ever and anon a part of them would launch forth as with one consent, circle a few moments over the water or meadow, and return to the wire again.

  2 P.M.—To the Assabet.

  Still no rain. The clouds, cumuli, lie in high piles along the southern horizon, glowing, downy, or creamcolored, broken into irregular summits in the form of bears erect, or demigods, or rocking stones, infant Herculeses; and still we think that from their darker bases a thunder-shower may issue . . .

(Journal, 4:219-223)
12 July 1853. Concord, Mass.

Thoreau writes in his journal:

  White vervain. Checkerberry, maybe some days. Spikenard, not quite yet. The green-flowered lanceolate-leafed orchis at Azalea Brook will soon flower . . . (Journal, 5:315).

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