Acorns now turned brown and fallen or falling.

September 30

September 30, 2020

I am surprised to see that some red maples, which were so brilliant a day or two ago, have already shed their leaves, and they cover the land and the water quite thickly. I see a countless fleet of them slowly carried round in the still bay by the Leaning Hemlocks.

I find a fine tupelo near Sam Barrett’s now all turned scarlet. I find that it has borne much fruit — small oval bluish berries, those I see — and a very little not ripe is still left. Gray calls it blackish-blue. 

It seems to be contemporary with the sassafras. Both these trees are now particularly forward and conspicuous in their autumnal change. I detect the sassafras by its peculiar orange scarlet half a mile distant. 

Acorns are generally now turned brown and fallen or falling; the ground is strewn with them and in paths they are crushed by feet and wheels. The white oak ones are dark and the most glossy. The conventional acorn of art is of course of no particular species, but the artist might find it worth his while to study Nature’s varieties again. 

The song sparrow is still about, and the blackbird. See a little bird with a distinct white spot on the wing, yellow about eye, and whitish beneath, which I think must-be one of the wrens I saw last spring. 

At present the river’s brim is no longer browned with button-bushes, for those of their leaves which the frost had touched have already fallen entirely, leaving a thin crop of green ones to take their turn.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, September 30, 1854

A fine tupelo near Sam Barrett’s now all turned scarlet has borne much fruit — small oval bluish berries. See September 7, 1857 ("Measured that large tupelo behind Merriam's which now is covered with green fruit, and its leaves begin to redden. “); October 6, 1858 (“The tupelo at Wharf Rock is completely scarlet, with blue berries amid its leaves”)

...a countless fleet of them slowly carried round in the still bay by the Leaning Hemlocks.   See November 11, 1853 ("As I paddle under the Leaning Hemlocks, the breeze rustles the boughs, and showers of their fresh winged seeds come wafted down to the water and are carried round and onward in the great eddy there.”)  See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, at the Leaning Hemlocks

I detect the sassafras by its peculiar orange scarlet half a mile distant. See September 28, 1854 ("The sassafras trees on the hill are now wholly a bright orange scarlet as seen from my window, and the small ones elsewhere are also changed.")