in Thoreau’s Journal:

Yesterday when the blossoms of the Golden Willow began to fall—the blossoms of the apple began to open….It is a splendid day—so clear & bright & fresh—the warmth of the air & the bright tender verdure putting forth on all sides make an impression of luxuriance & genialness—so perfectly fresh & uncankered. A sweet scent fills the air from the expanding leafets or some other source—  The earth is all fragrant as one flower & bobolinks tinkle in the air. Nature is perfectly genial to man.

in Thoreau’s Journal:  

Trees generally are now bursting into leaf.  The aspect of oak and other woods at a distance is somewhat like that of a very thick & reddish or yellowish mist about the evergreens— In other directions the light graceful—& more distinct yellowish green forms of birches are seen—& in swamps the reddish or reddish brown crescents of the red maple tops—now covered with keys— Oak leaves are as big as mouse ear & farmers are busy planting.

in Thoreau’s Journal: 

To-day for the first time, it appears to me summer-like and a new season.

in Thoreau’s Journal:

The shad blossom…a very beautiful delicate flower….with its purplish stipules & delicate drooping white blossoms— — So large & graceful a tree or bush— 

The shad blossom days in the woods.

in Thoreau’s Journal:

I have seen a little blue moth a long time.  My thick sack is too much yesterday & today.  The golden robin makes me think of a thinner coat.

in Thoreau’s Journal:

The shower is apparently going by on the north. There is a low dark blue black arch—crescentlike in the horizon sweeping the distant earth there with a dusky rainy brush—and all men like the earth seem to wear an aspect of expectation — There is an uncommon stillness here disturbed only by a rush of the wind from time to time––

in Thoreau’s Journal:

He is the richest who has the most use for nature as raw material of tropes & symbols with which to describe his life….I pray for such inward experience as will make nature significant.

in Thoreau’s Journal:

This has been almost the first warm day––none yet quite so warm. Walking to the Cliffs this afternoon––I noticed on Fair Haven Hill a season still-ness as I looked over the distant budding forest & heard the buzzing of a fly–– 

in Thoreau’s Journal:

How dead would the globe seem—especially at this season if it were not for these water surfaces…We are slow to realize water—the beauty & magic of it. It is interestingly strange forever….I look round with a thrill on this bright fluctuating surface on which no man can walk—whereon is—no trace of foot step—unstained as glass.

 in Thoreau’s Journal:

If man is thankful for the serene & warm day—much more are the flowers—

in Thoreau’s Journal:

Bluets now just begun.— Dewy calls it Venus Pride! Gray says truly “a very delicate little herb” — “producing in spring a profusion of handsome bright blue blossoms fading to white with a yellow eye.”  I should say bluish white.

May 6, 1851 in Thoreau’s Journal:

How important is a constant intercourse with nature and the contemplation of natural phenomenon to the preservation of Moral & intellectual health. The discipline of the schools or of business–can never impart such serenity to the mind.

in Thoreau’s Journal:

Every part of the world is beautiful today— — The bright shimmering water—fresh light-green grass springing up on the hills—tender firm moss-like before it waves.— the very faint blue sky without distinct clouds is least beautiful of all, having yielded its beauty to the earth—& the fine light smokes—sometimes blue against the woods.— and the tracts where the woods have been cut the past winter. The beautiful etherial not misty blue of the horizon—& its mts, as if painted. Now all buds may swell methinks—now the summer may begin for all creatures. The wind appears to be a little N of W. The waters still high have a fine shimmering sparkle over a great part of their surface—not so large nor quite so bright as in the fall.

As I can throw my voice into my head & sing very loud & clear there, so I can throw my thought into a higher chamber, & think louder & clearer above the earth than men will understand.

in Thoreau’s Journal:

Leaf-stem, bud, and flower are all very handsome in their place & season.

in Thoreau’s Journal:

How cheering & glorious any landscape viewed from an eminence!  For every one has its horizon & sky. It is so easy to take wide views.

in Thoreau’s Journal:

I am surprised by the tender yellowish green of the aspen leaf just expanded suddenly, even like a fire seen in the sun, against the dark-brown twigs of the wood, through these leaflets are yet but thinly dispersed. It is very enlivening.

in Thoreau’s Journal:

The yellow lily is budded. 

in Thoreau’s Journal:

We have then flowers & the song of birds before the woods leave out—like poetry.  

in Thoreau’s Journal: 

The season advances by fits and starts; you would not believe that there could be so many degrees to it. 

in Thoreau’s Journal:

The may-flower on the point of blossoming— I think I may say that it will blossom to-morrow.  The blossoms of this plant are remarkably concealed beneath the leaves—perhaps for protection— It is singularly unpretending—not seeking to exhibit or display its simply beauty. It is the most delicate flower both to eye & to scent as yet— Its weather worn leaves do not adorn it. If it had fresh spring leaves it would be more famous & sought after.

in Thoreau’s Journal:

This bright reflecting water surface is seen plainly at a higher level than the distant pond— It has a singular but peasant effect on the beholder to see considerable sheets of water standing at different levels— Pleasant to see lakes like platters full of water.