in Thoreau’s Journal:

We observe attentively the first beautiful days in the spring—but not so much in the autumn— We might expect that the first fair days after so much rain would be remarkable. It is a day affecting the spirits of men—but there is nobody to enjoy it—but ourselves—

What does the laborer ox & the laborer man care for the beautiful days. Will the hay maker when he comes home tonight know that this has been such a beautiful day? The day has been the great phenomenon—but will it be reported in any journal? —as the storm is & the heat? It is like a great & beautiful flower unnamed—

….No summer day is so beautiful as the fairest spring & fall days.