Rain again in the night, but now clear. It has been melting weather; hundreds sunstruck in New York. Sultry, mosquitoey nights, with both windows and door open, and scarcely a sheet to be endured.
But now it is cooler and beautifully clear at last after all these rains, and the crickets chirp with a still more autumnal sound.
Instead of the late bluish mistiness, I see a distinct, dark shade under the edge of the woods, the effect of the luxuriant foliage seen through the clear air. It is a pleasure to look at the washed woods far away. You see every feature of the white pine grove with distinctness, -- the stems of the trees, then the dark shade, then their fresh sunlit outsides -- and an inky darkness as of night under the edge of the woods, now at noonday heralding the evening of the year.
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, August 15, 1853
. . .heralding the evening of the year. See August, 19, 1853 (" The day is an epitome of the year.")
Instead of the late bluish mistiness, I see a distinct, dark shade under the edge of the woods, the effect of the luxuriant foliage seen through the clear air. It is a pleasure to look at the washed woods far away. You see every feature of the white pine grove with distinctness, -- the stems of the trees, then the dark shade, then their fresh sunlit outsides -- and an inky darkness as of night under the edge of the woods, now at noonday heralding the evening of the year.
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, August 15, 1853
. . .heralding the evening of the year. See August, 19, 1853 (" The day is an epitome of the year.")
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