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My First Summer in the Sierra

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My First Summer in the Sierra is a natural history classis and a autobiographical sketch by John Muir that describes his adventures in the Sierra Mountains and the wildlife found there. It contains this passage: "In the great Central Valley of California there are only two seasons--spring and summer. The spring begins with the first rainstorm, which usually falls in November. In a few months the wonderful flowery vegetation is in full bloom, and by the end of May it is dead and dry and crisp, as if every plant had been roasted in an oven. Then the lolling, panting flocks and herds are driven to the high, cool, green pastures of the Sierra. I was longing for the mountains about this time, but money was scarce and I couldn't see how a bread supply was to be kept up. While I was anxiously brooding on the bread problem, so troublesome to wanderers, and trying to believe that I might learn to live like the wild animals, gleaning nourishment here and there from seeds, berries, etc., sauntering and climbing in joyful independence of money or baggage, Mr. Delaney, a sheep-owner, for whom I had worked a few weeks, called on me, and offered to engage me to go with his shepherd and flock to the headwaters of the Merced and Tuolumne rivers--the very region I had most in mind."

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My First Summer in the Sierra, John Muir

Jazyk
Rok vydania
2021
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4,1
Veľmi dobrá
5476 Hodnotenie

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Jazyk
anglicky
Autori
John Muir
Vydavateľ
Blurb
Rok vydania
2021
Väzba
mäkká
Počet strán
140
ISBN10
100632481X
ISBN13
9781006324819
Série
Prvé vydanie
1911
Pôvodný názov
My First Summer in the Sierra
Hodnotenie
4,1 z 5
Anotácia
My First Summer in the Sierra is a natural history classis and a autobiographical sketch by John Muir that describes his adventures in the Sierra Mountains and the wildlife found there. It contains this passage: "In the great Central Valley of California there are only two seasons--spring and summer. The spring begins with the first rainstorm, which usually falls in November. In a few months the wonderful flowery vegetation is in full bloom, and by the end of May it is dead and dry and crisp, as if every plant had been roasted in an oven. Then the lolling, panting flocks and herds are driven to the high, cool, green pastures of the Sierra. I was longing for the mountains about this time, but money was scarce and I couldn't see how a bread supply was to be kept up. While I was anxiously brooding on the bread problem, so troublesome to wanderers, and trying to believe that I might learn to live like the wild animals, gleaning nourishment here and there from seeds, berries, etc., sauntering and climbing in joyful independence of money or baggage, Mr. Delaney, a sheep-owner, for whom I had worked a few weeks, called on me, and offered to engage me to go with his shepherd and flock to the headwaters of the Merced and Tuolumne rivers--the very region I had most in mind."