A soft fawn-colored light seeming to come from the earth itself.

July 11.

July 11, 2014

By boat to Fair Haven. Handsome now from these rocks the bay (on the south side of Fair Haven at the inlet of river), with its spit of shining pads.

I hear Conant's cradle cronching the rye behind the fringe of bushes in the Indian field. Reaping begun.

Sun sets when I am off Nut Meadow. 

July 11, 2013

A straight edge of massy cloud advances from the south-southeast and now stretches overhead from west-southwest to east-northeast, and after sunset reflects a soft light on the landscape, lighting up with harmonious light the dry parched and shorn hillsides, the soft, mellow, fawn-colored light seeming to come from the earth itself.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, July 11, 1854

July 11. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, July 11

A cloud stretches overhead

lighting up the landscape with

soft fawn-colored light.

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau,  A soft fawn-colored light.

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau,  

"A book, each page written in its own season,

out-of-doors, in its own locality.”

~edited, assembled and rewritten by zphx © 2009-2024

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