in Thoreau’s Journal:
9 AM to F.H. Pond up river—
A still warmer day— The snow is so solid that it still bears me—though we have had several warm suns on it. It is melting gradually under the sun. In the morning I make but little impression in it.
As it melts it acquires a rough but regularly waved surface. It is inspiriting to feel the increased heat of the sun reflected from the snow— There is a slight mist above the fields—through which the crowing of cocks sounds spring-like.
I sit by a maple on a maple— It wears a shaggy coat of lichens summer & winter.