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HEAVY SNOW ON PITCH PINES 



January 7, 1852. This afternoon, in dells of the 

 wood and on the lee side of the woods, where the 

 wind has not disturbed it, the snow still lies on the 

 trees as richly as I ever saw it. It was just moist 

 enough to stick. The pitch pines wear it best; their 

 plumes hang down like the feathers of the ostrich 

 or the tail of the cassowary, so purely white, — I 

 am sorry that I cannot say snowy white, for in purity 

 it is like nothing but itself. From contrast with the 

 dark needles and stems of the trees, whiter than ever 

 on the ground. The trees are bent under the weight 

 into a great variety of postures, — arches, etc. Their 

 branches and tops are so consolidated by the bur- 

 den of snow, and they stand in such new attitudes, 

 the tops often like canopies or parasols, agglomer- 

 ated, that they remind me of the pictures of palms 

 and other Oriental trees. Sometimes the lower 

 limbs of the pitch pine, under such plumes and cano- 

 pies, bear each their ridge of snow, crossing and 

 interlacing each other like lattice-work, so that you 

 cannot look more than a rod into the rich tracery. 



Journal, iii, 177. 



