I like this site. Thoreau journaled every day during his most productive period in the 1840s. This site has an entry every day from his journal and makes for some zen-like reading in these troubled times.
Here's today's entry:
yesterday, as you stood in their midst and looked round on their boughs
and twigs laden with snow. It seemed as if there could have been none
left to reach the ground. These countless zigzag white arms crossing
each other at every possible angle completely closed up the view, like
a light drift within three or four rods on every side. The wintriest
prospect imaginable. That snow which sifted down into the wood-path was
much drier and lighter than elsewhere.