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THE NATIONAL GEOGRAPHIC MAGAZINE 



a bird's nest with its "snowy egg" 



During his winter walks Thoreau always 

 took keen delight in discovering any reminder 

 of the past summer, even if it was only a 

 deserted bird's nest filled with snow. 



journey to Concord to witness and enjoy 

 the same phenomena. All through the 

 northern portion of the United States, ex- 

 cept upon the Pacific coast, there is an- 

 nually staged upon the platform of winter 

 the same drama of wonder and beauty 

 which so aroused his admiration. 



Indeed, in certain sections there some- 

 times occur spectacular effects of which 

 Thoreau never witnessed anything more 

 than the merest suggestion, such as the 

 brilliant "sun-dogs," "inverted rainbows," 

 and kindred atmospheric phenomena 

 which frequently accompany days of in- 

 tense cold in Minnesota and North Da- 

 kota. Also, in connection with many of 

 the higher waterfalls of the northern 

 States, there are superb displays of frost 

 magic, such as that which annually draws 

 a throng of visitors to Niagara, far tran- 

 scending in magnitude and beauty any- 

 thing which Thoreau ever saw on his 

 winter visits to the tiny waterfalls of 

 Concord. 



But the ordinary aspects of winter, so 

 familiar to all who dwell in regions peri- 



odically visited by the Ice King, Thoreau 

 has made the subject of graphic descrip- 

 tion. The snow crystals falling upon his 

 coat sleeve, the icy fretwork on the pud- 

 dle by the roadside, the "booming" of the 

 pond on cold evenings, the snow-encased 

 pump, the farmer piloting his ox-sled 

 through the drifts, the lisping of chick- 

 adees among the snow-laden hemlocks, 

 the fisherman with his string of pickerel 

 caught through the ice, the close-wrapped 

 buds of trees and shrubs, the humming 

 of the telegraph "harp," the snow-bunt- 

 ings and tree-sparrows — "true spirits of 

 the snowstorm," the red alder catkins 

 "switching in the face of winter and 

 bragging for all creation," the woodchop- 

 per and his noonday lunch, the scream of 

 the blue-jay — "a sort of wintry trumpet," 

 the snow-fleas in the wheel-ruts, the 

 frost-tracery on the window pane — all 

 these and many other incidents and phe- 

 nomena of the winter are faithfully and 

 lovingly recorded. 



Trivial matters ? Yes, and yet they are 

 so charmingly treated in Thoreau's inter- 

 pretation of "that grand old poem called 

 winter" that we forget their trivial and 

 commonplace character and are made to 

 see how much they contribute toward the 

 beauty and the harmony of the whole. 



new pictures painted at each sunset 



There is one very common phenome- 

 non of the winter time — a daily occur- 

 rence, in fact — which Thoreau dwells 

 upon with marked frequency and always 

 in a mood of special exaltation. To him, 

 in all seasons of the year, the holiest 

 hour of the day was the hour of the set- 

 ting sun, and in the winter season its ap- 

 peal was most potent. 



Under date of January 7, 1852, he 

 wrote: "I go forth each afternoon and 

 look into the west a quarter of an hour 

 before sunset, with fresh curiosity, to see 

 what new picture will be painted there, 

 what new panorama exhibited, what new 

 dissolving views. Can Washington Street 

 or Broadway show anything as good? 

 Every day a new picture is painted and 

 framed, held up for half an hour, in such 

 lights as the Great Artist chooses, and 

 then withdrawn, and the curtain falls." 



