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November 6, 2016 November 6, 2018  |
A great many rainy or mizzling days the last fortnight, yet not much rain. November 6, 1855
Very warm but rather cloudy weather, after rain in the night. Wind southwest. Thermometer on north of the house 70° at 12 M. Indian summer. November 6, 1857
Yesterday was a still and cloudy day. This is another rainy day. November 6, 1858
On the whole, we have had a good deal of fair weather the last three months. November 6, 1858
Was that a fish hawk I saw flying over the Assabet, or a goshawk? White beneath, with slender wings. November 6, 1854
It is surprising how little most of us are contented to know about the sparrows which drift about in the air before us just before the first snows. These little sparrows with white in tail, perhaps the prevailing bird of late, have flitted before me so many falls and springs, yet they have been strangers to me. I have not inquired whence they came or whither they were going, or what their habits are. November 6, 1853
It is remarkable how little we attend to what is passing before us constantly, unless our genius directs our attention that way. November 6, 1853
Some horse-chestnuts are still thickly leaved and yellow, not withered. November 6, 1858The gooseberry leaves at the end of the currant row, being wet, are a still more brilliant scarlet. November 6, 1855
Pennyroyal has a long time stood withered and dark, blackish brown, in the fields, yet scented. November 6, 1855
The witch-hazel spray is peculiar and interesting, with little knubs at short intervals, zig zag, crinkle-crankle. How happens it? Did the leaves grow so close? The bud is long against the stem, with a neck to it. November 6, 1853
The alternate cornel, small, very dark reddish buds, on forking, smooth, slender twigs at long intervals. November 6, 1853
The panicled andromeda, minute pointed red buds, hugging the curving stems. November 6, 1853
The red maple buds, showing three or more sets of scales. November 6, 1853
The remarkable roundish, plump red buds of the high blueberry. November 6, 1853
The four-sided, long spear-head-shaped buds of the Viburnum Lentago, at the end of forked twigs, probably blossom-buds, with minute leaf-buds lower on sides of twigs. November 6, 1853
The river is quite low, . . . lower than before, this year. Yet there is more water in the mill-streams; the mill-wheels are supplied now which were stationary in the summer. November 6, 1859
A mizzling rain from the east drives me home from my walk. November 6, 1855
I can hardly resist the inclination to collect driftwood, to collect a great load of various kinds, which will sink my boat low in the water, and paddle or sail slowly home with it. November 6, 1855
In the dusk on my return, I saw Brooks Clark coming homeward, with his axe in his hand and both hands behind his back, being bent almost double. He said he was over eighty. November 6, 1857
I guessed at Goodwin’s age on the 1st. He is hale and stout and looks younger than he is, and I took care to set him high enough. I guessed he was fifty-five, and he said that if he lived two or three months longer he would be fifty-six. November 6, 1858
Minott is a very pleasing figure in nature. He improves every scenery, — he and his comrades . . . If he gets into a pond hole he disturbs it no more than a water-spirit for me. November 6, 1857
C. thinks that he saw bats last evening. November 6, 1859
*****
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Aromatic Herbs
A Book of the Seasons by Henry Thoreau, the Dark-eyed Junco (Fringilla hyemalis)
*****
September 24, 1855 ("It would be a triumph to get all my winter’s wood thus . . . I derive a separate and peculiar pleasure from every stick that I find. Each has its history, of which I am reminded when I come to burn it, and under what circumstances I found it.")
October 23, 1852 ("The pennyroyal stands brown and sere, though fragrant still, on the shelves of the Cliff.")
October 30, 1853 ("Now, now is the time to look at the buds.”)
November 1, 1851 ("At this season there are stranger sparrows or finches about.")
November 2, 1852 ("Slate-colored snowbirds (?) with a faint note.")
November 2, 1853 ("What are those sparrows in loose flocks which I have seen two or three weeks . . . whitish over and beneath the eye, and some white observed in tail when they fly? . . . Can they be the grass-bird? They resemble it in marking. They are much larger than the tree sparrows. Methinks it is a very common fall bird.")
November 4, 1855 (" See some large flocks of F. hyemalis, which fly with a clear but faint chinking chirp, and from time to time you hear quite a strain, half warbled, from them. They rise in a body from the ground and fly to the trees as you approach. There are a few tree sparrows with them. These and one small soaring hawk are all the birds I see.")
November 4, 1858 ("On the 1st, when I stood on Poplar Hill, I saw a man . . . took out my glass, and beheld Goodwin, the one-eyed Ajax, in his short blue frock, short and square-bodied, as broad as for his height he can afford to be.")
November 4, 1860 ("White birch seed has but recently begun to fall. I see a quarter of an inch of many catkins bare . . . To-day also I see distinctly the tree sparrows, and probably saw them, as supposed, some days ago. Thus the birch begins to shed its seed about the time our winter birds arrive from the north.")
November 7, 1855 (" I hear a few tree sparrows in one place on the trees and bushes near the river, — a clear, chinking chirp and a half-strain.”)
November 7, 1855 ("I find it good to be out this still, dark, mizzling afternoon; my walk or voyage is more suggestive and profitable than in bright weather.")
November 8, 1857 ("How silently and unobserved by most do these changes take place!")
November 19, 1855 (" A cold, gray day, once spitting snow. Water froze in tubs enough to bear last night.")
December 1, 1852 ("At this season I observe the form of the buds which are prepared for spring,")
December 6, 1856 ("Our eyes go searching along the stems for what is most vivacious and characteristic, the concentrated summer gone into winter quarters.")
January 12, 1855 ("Well may the tender buds attract us at this season, no less than partridges, for they are the hope of the year, the spring rolled up. The summer is all packed in them.")
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| November 6, 2015 |
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, November 6A 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 © 2009-2022
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