It is perfect autumn.

October 7.

Now is the time to behold the maple swamps, one mass of red and yellow, all on fire, as it were;  and then, in the village, the warm brownish-yellow elms.

The green pines springing out of huckleberries on the hillsides look as if surrounded by red or vermilion paint. 

I notice the Viola ovata, houstonia, Ranunculus repens, caducous polygala, small scratch-grass polygonum, autumnal dandelion (very abundant, yellowing the low turfy grounds and hills), small bushy white aster, a few goldenrods, Polygonum hydropiperoides and the unknown flowerless bidens, soapwort gentian (now turned dark purple), yarrow, the white erigeron, red clover, hedge-mustard. 

The muskrats have begun to erect their cabins. Thev begin soon after the pontederias are (dead (??) . Saw one done. Do they build them in the night? 

Heat and see larks, bluebirds, robins, song sparrows. Also see painted tortoises and shad frogs. 

There must be in abundance of mast this year. I could gather tip nearly a bushel of acorns under one white oak, out of their cups, and, I think, quite good to eat. They are earlier to fall than the walnuts. It is encouraging to see a large crop of acorns, though we do not use them. 

The white maples turn yellowish, though some boughs are red. 

I sit on Poplar Hill. It is a warm Indian-summerish afternoon. The sun comes out of clouds, and lights up and warms the whole scene. It is perfect autumn. 

I see a hundred smokes arising through the yellow elm-tops in the village, where the villagers are preparing for tea. It is the mellowing year. 

The sunshine harmonizes with the imbrowned and fiery foliage.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, October 7, 1852

We set out intending to go over the far ridge.

We are delayed on our own ridge cutting a log that has been in the way a long time. It is still solid in the core, and once i get it cut in one place, it cant be moved because it is binding on some trees. We cut nearly through one part, but it still binds. Finally Jane cuts through another spot and we can both drag it out of the way. I end up moving the other end off the trail side. We smooth the trail with wood chips.

We bushwack east over the stream and finally reach the main logging road, but keep east to the next road then edge up along the cliff. Here is a big beech blowdown and we have to clear a way up along the cliff edge to the saddle where the red trail starts.

But it is late, and will be dark soon.

We decide to go back down and take the main road up to the north and bushwack over to the double chair.

Jane stops at the wintergreen patch and samples some.

At the top on that sparse ridge we find our separate ways over the rocks down to the west. it is now getting dark. There are lots of blowdowns separating us.

Jane stops and calls me over. She is on a log, her headlamp is not working unless she takes it off and squeezes. Meanwhile her glasses are missing. I have a flashlight; she gets out hers. It takes a while, but finally i spot her glasses. It is now dark.

I remember the time we were lost in the dark over here. It’s something different now. A feeling of confidence that we know where we are. We have lights yes, but we know where we are.

We head generally toward the double chair, meandering around the blowdowns. We come to the ridge before the ridge and then we are there. Right at the bottom of the trail up to the double chair.

Up we go and it is reassuring to have the reflectors marking the trail. We rest in the chairs. Then down the ridge trail. We pass through our now log-free spot. and end up at the view. Lights twinkling in the Champlain valley.

Now down round-ridge trail to the wet junction upper road and home.

Four or four and a half hours.

Deep woods night hike.

October 7, 2012