Would John Muir tweet?

The question comes to mind on John Muir Day, an annual tribute that honors Muir's legacy as a conservationist and as a soul-stirring writer. His expressive odes to the natural world helped usher the notion of wilderness preservation into mainstream American thinking in the early 20th century and led Muir (1838-1914) to be esteemed as the father of the National Park Service, established 2 years after his death.

Pragmatically speaking, many of Muir's most widely circulated quotations fall neatly within Twitter's 140-character parameter:

• The mountains are calling and I must go. (40 characters)

• The clearest way into the Universe is through a forest wilderness. (66)

• When we try to pick anything out by itself, we find it hitched to everything else in the universe. (98)

• I only went out for a walk and finally concluded to stay out till sundown, for going out, I found, was really going in. (119)

• Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and give strength to body and soul. (130)

Plus, he could have dumped the pencils and the sketchbook and switched to Twitpics. Imagine Muir's Flickr account. His ballooning number of Facebook friends. His GoPro sponsorship.

Happily, Muir mastered the media of his day—the long-form narrative essay, heavy on hi-def insights that connect wirelessly with readers' hearts and minds. I dig Twitter, no doubt, but sometimes I allow tweets to whoosh into my head, ping off the back of my skull and ricochet out an ear without fully gleaning the whole-wheat goodness of a well-conceived thought. Obviously Muir's evocative reflections, even in short-form renditions, merit a longer-than-average pause for rumination.

That's where a traditional, battery-free book comes in handy. Anyone interested in diving deeper into the Muir's mind can check out My First Summer in the Sierra, a hardcover beauty artfully repackaged by its original publisher (Houghton Mifflin) in honor of its 100th anniversary. The medium-format book (10 ½" x 9 ¼"), originally published in 1911, contains many lovely photos, a forward by the America's Best Idea crew (filmmakers Dayton Duncan and Ken Burns) and a promise from photographer Scot Duncan to make a donation to the nonprofit Yosemite Conservancy for each copy sold.

The book is essentially a diary of Muir's summer of '69 (1869, that is), June 3 through Sept. 22. Many passages involve straightforward scientific inquiry and weather observations, though no one can describe weather like Muir. From June 10: "How fine the weather is! Nothing more celestial can I conceive. How gently the winds blow! Scarce can these tranquil air-currents be called winds. They seem the very breath of Nature, whispering peace to every living thing."

Then there is this gem, a Muir bedtime story, from later in the summer: "Sundown, and I must to camp. Good-night, friends three—brown bear, rugged boulder of energy in groves and gardens fair as Eden; restless, fussy fly with gauzy wings stirring the air all around the world; and grasshopper, crisp, electric spark of joy enlivening the massy sublimity of the mountains like the laugh of a child. Thank you, thank you all three for your quickening company. Heaven guide every wing and leg. Good-night friends three, goodnight."

Happy John Muir Day, everyone, which falls on the Scotman's birthday. Feel free to weigh in with favorite Muirisms of your own.