The memorable
penetrating scent of ripe
grapes under my feet.
October 9, 2023
October 9, 2025
In the maple woods the ground is strewn with new fallen leaves.
The witch-hazel here
is in full blossom on this
magical hillside.
October 9, 2023
The red maples are now red and also yellow and reddening. The white maples are green and silvery, also yellowing and blushing. The birch is yellow; the black willow brown; the elms sere, brown, and thin; the bass bare . . . The white maples toward Ball's Hill have a burnt white appearance; the white oak a salmon-color and also red.
The red maples are
now red and also yellow
and reddening.
The white maples are
now yellowing and blushing,
green and silvery.
I see now that, near the river and low on the meadows, the maple stands with paled fires, burned out, thin-leaved, a salmon or faint cherry tint, ready to surrender to the first smart frost . . . In the swamp, some twenty-foot maples are already bare
the pines, by contrast
appear to have acquired a
new more liquid green.
October 9, 1857
The maple swamps begin to look smoky, they are already so bare.
The mountains distinct,
Walden darker blue – it is
quite Novemberish.
October 9, 1858
Wood ducks are about now, amid the painted leaves.
I now see one small
red maple both pure yellow
and bright red scarlet.
October 9, 2013
Crows fly over and caw at you now. October 9, 1858
October 9, 2015
See one crow chasing two marsh hawks over E. Hosmer's meadow . . . The crow is at length joined by an other. October 9, 1860
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 © 2009-2026
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