Out of the Past
Thoreau
December 7






Henry David Thoreau
Henry David Thoreau
American Writer

Young Hickory by Thomas Cole
Young Hickory
by Thomas Cole
Wild Red Maple and Fog, New Hampshire by Christopher Burkett
Wild Red Maple and Fog, New Hampshire
by Christopher Burkett
The Complete Works of Ralph Waldo Emerson & Henry David Thoreau
The Journal of Henry David Thoreau: 1837-1861
Kindle Edition
Henry Thoreau: A Life of the Mind
Henry Thoreau

A Life of the Mind

Thoreauvian Modernities
Thoreauvian Modernities

Transatlantic Conversations on an American Icon
Walden and Other Writings
Walden and Other Writings

An Insect View of Its Plain
An Insect View of Its Plain
Insects, Nature and God in Thoreau, Dickinson and Muir 

H.D. Thoreau
H. D. Thoreau, a Writer's Journal
Thoreau in His Own Time
Thoreau in His Own Time
A Biographical Chronicle of His Life, Drawn from Recollections, Interviews, and Memoirs by Family, Friends, and Associates



         

Still no snow, nor ice noticeable. I might have left my boat out till now. I have not worn gloves yet.

This afternoon I go to the woods down the railroad, seeking the society of some flock of little birds, or some squirrel, but in vain. I only hear the faint lisp of (probably) a tree sparrow. I go through empty halls, apparently unoccupied by bird or beast. Yet it is cheering to walk there while the sun is reflected from far through
the aisles with a silvery light from the needles of the pine. The contrast of light or sunshine and shade, though the latter is now so thin, is food enough for me.

Some scarlet oak leaves on the forest floor, when I stoop low, appear to have a little blood in them still. The shrivelled Solomon's-seal berries are conspicuously red amid the dry leaves . I visited the door of many a squirrel's burrow, and saw his nutshells and cone-scales and tracks in the sand, but a snow would reveal much more. Let a snow come and clothe the ground and trees, and I shall see the tracks of many inhabitants now unsuspected, and the very snow covering up the withered leaves will supply the place of the green ones which are gone. 


In a little busy flock
of lisping birds, chickadees or lesser redpolls, even in a nuthatch or downy woodpecker, there would have been a sweet society for me, but I did not find [it].




December 7, 1855


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