Midsummer

July 24.

The ground is very dry, the berries are drying up. It is long since we have had any rain to speak of. Gardeners use the watering-pot. 

The sere and fallen leaves of the birches in many places redden the ground; this heat and drought have the effect of autumn to some extent. The smooth sumach berries are red. 

However, there is a short, fresh green on the shorn fields, the aftermath. When the first crop of grass is off, and the aftermath springs, the year has passed its culmination . . . 

I heard this afternoon the cool water twitter of the goldfinch. and saw the bird. They come with the springing aftermath. It is refreshing as a cup of cold water to a thirsty man to hear them now only one at a time. 

The corn now forms solid phalanxes, though the ears have not set, and, the sun going down, the shadows, even of corn-fields, fall long over the meadows, and a sweetness comes up from the shaven grass, and the crickets creak more loud in the new-springing grass.

Just after sunset I notice that a thin veil of clouds, far in the east, beyond the nearer and heavier dark-gray masses, glows a fine rose-color, like the inner bark or lining of some evergreens.

The clear, solemn western sky till far into night was framed by a dark line of clouds with a heavy edge, curving across the northwest sky, at a considerable height, separating the region of day from that of night.

Lay on a lichen-covered hill which looked white in the moonlight.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, July 24, 1852

It is long since we have had any rain to speak of. See July 24, 1851 (“The effects of drought are never more apparent than at dawn.”)

There is a short, fresh green on the shorn fields, the aftermath. See July 24, 1860 ("Many a field where the grass has been cut shows now a fresh and very lit-up light green as you look toward the sun.")

The year has passed its culmination. See July 26, 1853 (" I mark again, about this time when the first asters open, the sound of crickets or locusts that makes you fruitfully meditative, helps condense your thoughts, like the mel dews in the afternoon. This the afternoon of the year."}; July 28, 1854 (Methinks the season culminated about the middle of this month, — . . .having as it were attained the ridge of the summer, commenced to descend the long slope toward winter, the afternoon and down-hill of the year.")