November 28, 1858

 in Thoreau’s Journal:

A gray, overcast, still day, and more small birds, tree sparrows and chickadees, than usual about the house. There have been a very few fine snowflakes falling for many hours, and now, by 2 P.M., a regular snowstorm has commenced, the fine flakes falling steadily, and rapidly whitening all the landscape. In half an hour the russet landscape is painted white, even to the horizon.

Do we know of any other so silent and sudden a change?

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I cannot now walk without leaving a track behind me.

That is one peculiarity of winter walking.