November 10, 1851

 in Thoreau’s Journal:

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Photo, November 10, 2018

This morning the ground is once more whitened with snow—but it will apparently be gone in an hour or two.

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I live where the pinus rigida grows—with its firm cones almost as hard as iron—armed with recurved spines.

November 9, 1851

 in Thoreau’s Journal:

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Pitch pine cones very beautiful—not only the fresh leather colored ones but especially the dead grey ones—covered with lichens— The scales so regular & close—like an impenetrable coat of mail. These are very handsome to my eye— Also those which have long since opened regularly & shed their seeds

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An abundance of the rattlesnake Plantain in the woods by Brown’s Pond….

November 8, 1851

in Thoreau’s Journal:

Ah those sun sparkles on Dudley P.

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In this november air what a heaven to live in!  Intensely brilliant as no artificial light I have seen—like a dance of diamonds. Course mazes of a diamond dance seen through the trees.  All objects shine today—even the sportsmen seen at a distance—

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as if a cavern were unroofed and its crystals gave entertainment to the sun.  This great see-saw of brilliants.—

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November 7, 1853“`

in Thoreau’s Journal:

The sun now rises far southward.  I see westward the earliest sunlight on the reddish oak leave & the pines—the former appear to get more than their share—  How soon the sun gets above the hills—as if he would accomplish his whole diurnal journey in a few hours at this rate—but it is a long way around & these are nothing to the hill of heaven.

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Whether we are idle or industrious the sun is constantly traveling through the sky—consuming arc after arc of this great circle at this same rapid pace.

November 6, 1853

in Thoreau’s Journal:

Climbed the wooded hill by Holden’s spruce swamp—& got a novel View of the river & Fair Haven Bay—through the almost leafless woods. How much handsomer a river or lake such as ours seems thus through a foreground of scattered or else partially leafless trees though at a considerable distance this side of it—especially if the water is open without wooded shore or isles— It is the most perfect & beautiful of all frames which yet the sketcher is commonly careful to brush aside.

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I mean a foreground—a view of the distant water through the near forest—through a thousand little vistas—as we are rushing toward the former—that intimate mingling of wood & water which excites an expectation which the near & open view rarely realizes. We prefer that some part be concealed—which our imagination may navigate.

November 5, 1852

 in Thoreau’s Journal:

At this season polypody is in the air.

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It is worth the while to walk in swamps now, to bathe your eyes with greenness. The terminal shield fern is the handsomest and glossiest green.

November 4, 1852

 in Thoreau’s Journal:

Autumnal Dandelion—& yarrow—  Must be out of doors enough to get experience of wholesome reality—as a ballast to thought & sentiment.  Health requires this relaxation this aimless life. This life in the present….

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My thought is a part of the meaning of the world—& hence I use a part of the world as a symbol to express my thought.

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November 3, 1852

in Thoreau’s Journal:

The landscape from Fair Haven Hill looks Novemberry—bare gray limbs & twigs in the swamps & where many young (or shrub) oaks have lost their leaves—You hear the rustling of oak & walnut leaves in the air. There is a ripple on the river from the cool northerly wind—the plants are sere. It is the month of withered oak leaves.

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November 1, 1852

in Thoreau’s Journal:

I saw there between the converging boughs of two white pines a rod or two from me on the edge of the rock, and I thought that there was no frame to a landscape equal to this—

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to see between two near pine boughs whose lichens are distinct, a distant forest & lake—the one frame the other picture.