Dog-days turned rainy.

July 31, 2015

July 31.

Our dog-days seem to be turned to a rainy season. 

Mr. Derby, whose points of compass I go to regulate, tells me that he remembers when it rained for three weeks in haying time every day but Sundays. 

Rode to J. Farmer’s. He says that on a piece of an old road on his land, discontinued forty years ago, for a distance of forty rods which he plowed, he found two or three dollars in small change. Among the rest he showed me an old silver piece about as big as a ten cent-piece, with the word skilli, etc., etc., on it, apparently a Danish shilling?

Tree-toads sing more than before. 

Have observed the twittering over of goldfinches for a week.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, July 31, 1855

Our dog-days seem to be turned to a rainy season.  July 31, 1856 ("This dog-day afternoon [a]s I make my way amid rank weeds still wet with the dew, the air filled with a decaying musty scent and the z-ing of small locusts, I hear the distant sound of a flail, and thoughts of autumn occupy my mind, and the memory of past years."); July 31, 1859 ("It is emphatically one of the dog-days. A dense fog, not clearing off till we are far on our way, and the clouds (which did not let in any sun all day) were the dog-day fog and mist, which threatened no rain. A muggy but comfortable day."); July 31, 1860 ("Decidedly dog-days, and a strong musty scent, not to be wondered at after the copious rains and the heat of yesterday.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Locust, Dogdayish Days

Have observed the twittering over of goldfinches for a week. See July 31, 1859 ("The goldfinch's note, the cool watery twitter, is more prominent now.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau the Goldfinch