An hour and a half timing the closing of the lilies

July 17.

By river to Fair Haven.  I go to observe the lilies.

July 17, 2015

At Purple Utricularia Shore, there are, within a circle of four or five rods' diameter, ninety-two lilies fairly open and about half a dozen which appear to have already partly closed. I watch them for an hour and a half. By about 1.30 they are all shut up, and no petal is to be seen up and down the river unless a lily is broken off. You may therefore say that they shut up between 11.30 and 1.30, though almost all between 12 and 1. 

I think that I could tell when it was 12 o'clock within half an hour by the lilies. 

Meanwhile large yellowish devil's-needles, coupled, are flying about and repeatedly dipping their tails in the water. 

I feel an intense heat reflected from the surface of the pads. The rippled parts of the stream contrast with the dark smooth portions. They are separated as by an invisible barrier, yet, when I paddle into the smoothness, I feel the breeze the same. 

Why are not all the white lily pads red beneath? 

I am surprised to see crossing my course in middle of Fair Haven Pond great yellowish devil's-needles, flying from shore to shore, from Island to Baker's Farm and back, about a foot above the water, some against a head wind; also yellow butterflies; suggesting that these insects see the distant shore and resolve to visit it. In fact, they move much faster than I can toward it, yet as if they were conscious that they were on a journey, flying for the most part straight forward. It shows more enterprise and a wider range than I had suspected. It looks very bold. If devil's-needles cross Fair Haven, then man may cross the Atlantic. 

In Conant's meadow just behind Wheeler's, the smaller fringed orchis not quite reached by the mowers. It may have been out four or five days. It is a darker purple for being so exposed. None yet opening in the shade.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, July 17, 1854

I could tell when it was 12 o'clock within half an hour by the lilies. See June 21, 1853 ("4.30 A.M.––Up river for lilies . . .The few lilies begin to open about 5."); July 1, 1852 ("...to see the white lilies in blossom...to breathe the atmosphere of lilies, and get the full impression which lilies are fitted to make. ... After eating our luncheon I can not find one open anywhere for the rest of the day."); July 20, 1853 ("Coming home at twelve, I see that the white lilies are nearly shut");  July 26, 1856 ("At five [A.M.] the lilies had not opened, but began about 5.15 and were abundantly out at six"); also note to June 29, 1852 ("The wind exposes the red undersides of the white lily pads. This is one of the aspects of the river now."). And March 27, 1853: Half an hour standing perfectly still to hear the frogs croak.

Great yellowish devil's-needles flying from shore to shore about a foot above the water, some against a head wind.  See July 17, 1853 ("I see two great devil’s-needles, three inches long, with red abdomens and bodies as big as hummingbirds, sailing round this pond, round and round, and ever and anon darting aside suddenly, probably to seize some prey. ") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Devil's-needle

The smaller fringed orchis not quite reached by the mowers. See July 21, 1851 ("The small purple orchis, its spikes half opened"); July 24, 1856 ("The small purple fringed orchis, apparently three or four days at least."); July 26, 1852("The smaller purple fringed orchis has not quite filled out its spike");
July 30, 1853("A small purple orchis (Platanthera psycodes) . . . If the meadows were untouched , I should no doubt see many more of the rare white and the beautiful smaller purple orchis there, as I now see a few along the shaded brooks and meadow's edge.") See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Purple Fringed Orchids

July 17. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau July 17

Flying shore to shore

yellowish devil's-needles

cross their Atlantic

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, An hour and a half timing the closing of the lilies

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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