Thoughts of autumn occupy my mind, and the memory of past years.

July 31. 

Thursday. P. M. — To Decodon Pond. 

Erigeron Canadensis, some time. Alisma mostly gone to seed. Thoroughwort, several days. Penthorum, a good while. 

Trichostema has now for some time been springing up in the fields, giving out its aromatic scent when bruised, and I see one ready to open. 

For a morning or two I have noticed dense crowds of little tender whitish parasol toadstools, one inch or more in diameter, and two inches high or more, with simple plaited wheels, about the pump platform; first fruit of this dog-day weather. 

Measured a Rudbeckia hirta flower; more than three inches and three eighths in diameter. 

As I am going across to Bear Garden Hill, I see much white Polygala sanguinea with the red in A. Wheeler's meadow (next to Potter's). 

Also much of the Bartonia tenella, which has been out some days at least, five rods from ditch, and three from Potter's fence. 

Went through Potter's Aster Radula swamp this dog-day afternoon. As 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.

Some late rue leaves on a broken twig have turned all a uniform clear purple. 

How thick the berries — low blackberries, Vaccinium vacillans, and huckleberries — on the side of Fair Haven Hill ! The berries are large, for no drought has shrunk them. They are very abundant this year to compensate for the want of them the last. The children should grow rich if they can get eight cents a quart for blackberries, as they do. 

Again I am attracted by the hoary, as it were misty morning light on the base of the upper leaves of the velvety Pycnanthemum incanum. It is the most interesting of this genus here. 

The smooth sumach is pretty generally crimson-berried on the Knoll, and its lower leaves are scarlet-tipped (though there are some blossoms yet), but the Rhus copallina there is not yet out. 

See dense fields of the great epilobium now in its prime, like soldiers in the meadow, resounding with the hum of bees. The butterflies are seen on the pearly everlasting, etc., etc. 

Hieracium paniculatum by Gerardia quercifolia path in woods under Cliffs, two or three days. 

Elodea two and a half feet high, how long? The flowers at 3 p. m. nearly shut, cloudy as it is. Yet the next day, later, I saw some open, I think. 

Another short-tailed shrew dead in the wood-path.

Near Well Meadow, hear the distant scream of a hawk, apparently anxious about her young, and soon a large apparent hen-hawk (?) comes and alights on the very top of the highest pine there, within gunshot, and utters its angry scream. This a sound of the season when they probably are taking their first (?) flights. 

See yellow Bethlehem-star still. 

As I look out through the woods westward there, I see, sleeping and gleaming through the stagnant, misty, glaucous dog-day air, i. e. blue mist, the smooth silvery surface of Fair Haven Pond. There is a singular charm about it in this setting. The surface has a dull, gleaming polish on it, though draped in this glaucous mist. 

The Solidago gigantea (?), three-ribbed, out a long time at Walden shore by railroad, more perfectly out than any solidago I have seen. I will call this S. gigantea, yet it has a yellowish-green stem, slightly pubescent above, and leaves slightly rough to touch above, rays small, about fifteen.

Mine must be the Aster Radula (if any) of Gray, yet the scales of the involucre are not appressed, but rather sub-squamose, nor is it rare. Pursh describes it, or the Radula, as white-flowered, and mentions several closely allied species. 

Wade through the northernmost Andromeda Pond. Decodon not nearly out there. Do I not see some kind of sparrow about the shore, with yellow beneath? Mountain cranberries apparently full grown, many at least.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, July 31, 1856

Trichostema has now for some time been springing up in the fields, giving out its aromatic scent. See Jujy 31, 1854 ("Blue-curls."); July 11, 1853 ("The aromatic trichostema now springing up"). See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Blue-Curls

This dog-day afternoon . . .  the air filled with a decaying musty scent and the z-ing of small locusts. See July 31, 1855 ("Our dog-days seem to be turned to a rainy season.") 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 and August 2, 1859 ("That fine z-ing of locusts in the grass which I have heard for three or four days is an August sound.")

Thoughts of autumn occupy my mind, and the memory of past years. See August 7, 1854 ("I am not so much reminded of former years, as of existence prior to years.”) See also Farewell, my friend

Another short-tailed shrew dead in the wood-path. See July 12, 1856 (“I have found them thus three or four times before.”)

July 31.  See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau July 31

Thoughts of autumn and

the memory of past years

occupy my mind.

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Thoughts of autumn

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

All the secrets of the river bottom are revealed.

July 30 P. M. — To Rudbeckia laciniata via Assabet. 

Amaranthus hybridus and albus, both some days at least; first apparently longest. 

This is a perfect dog-day. The atmosphere thick, mildewy, cloudy. It is difficult to dry anything. The sun is obscured, yet we expect no rain. 

Bad hay weather. 

The streams are raised by the showers of yesterday and day before, and I see the farmers turning their black-looking hay in the flooded meadows with a fork. 

The water is suddenly clear, as if clarified by the white of an egg or lime. I think it must be because the light is reflected downward from the overarching dog-day sky.  It assists me very much as I go looking for the ceratophyllum, potamogetons, etc. 

All the secrets of the river bottom are revealed. I look down into sunny depths which before were dark. The wonderful clearness of the water, enabling you to explore the river bottom and many of its secrets now, exactly as if the water had been clarified. This is our compensation for a heaven concealed. 

The air is close and still. 

Some days ago, before this weather, I saw haymakers at work dressed simply in a straw hat, boots, shirt, and pantaloons, the shirt worn like a frock over their pants. The laborer cannot endure the contact with his clothes. 

I am struck with the splendid crimson-red under sides of the white lily pads where my boat has turned them, at my bath place near the Hemlocks. For these pads, i. e. the white ones, are but little eaten yet. 

Rudbeckia laciniata, perhaps a week. 

When I have just rowed about the Island a green bittern crosses in my rear with heavy flapping flight, its legs dangling, not observing me. It looks deep slate-blue above, yellow legs, whitish streak along throat and breast, and slowly plows the air with its prominent breast-bone, like the stake-driver.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, July 30, 1856

This is a perfect dog-day.  See July 31, 1859 (" It is emphatically one of the dog-days . . .fog and mist, which threatened no rain. A muggy but comfortable day.");  July 31, 1860 ("Decidedly dog-days, and a strong musty scent."); August 1, 1856 ("Since July 30th, inclusive, we have had perfect dog-days without interruption."); See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Locust Days, Dogdayish Days

The water is suddenly clear . . . This is our compensation for a heaven concealed. See July 30, 1859 ("This dog-day weather I can see the bottom where five and a half feet deep . . . I see the fishes moving leisurely about amid the weeds, their affairs revealed") See also July 18, 1854 ("I do not know why the water should be so remarkably clear and the sun shine through to the bottom of the river, making it so plain.“);   July 27, 1860 ("The water has begun to be clear and sunny, revealing the fishes and countless minnows of all sizes and colors”); July 28, 1859 ("The season has now arrived when I begin to see further into the water”) and A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Season of Sunny Water

I saw haymakers at work dressed simply in a straw hat, boots, shirt, and pantaloons. See July 30, 1853 ("In every meadow you see far or near the lumbering hay-cart with its mountainous load and the rakers and mowers in white shirts."); See also August 3, 1859 ("It being remote from public view, some of them work in their shirts or half naked.");  August 5, 1854 ("Almost every meadow or section of a meadow has its band of half a dozen mowers and rakers, either bending to their manly work with regular and graceful motion."); August 18, 1854 ("Men in their white shirts look taller and larger than near at hand."); August 24, 1858 (""I distinguish men busily haying in gangs of four or five, revealed by their white shirts) See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Haymaking

The splendid crimson-red under sides of the white lily pads . See June 29, 1852 ("The wind exposes the red under sides of the white lily pads. This is one of the aspects of the river now"); June 30, 1859 ("The pads blown up by it already show crimson, it is so strong, but this not a fall phenomenon yet.”); August 24, 1854 ("The bright crimson-red under sides of the great white lily pads, turned up by the wind").

Rudbeckia laciniata, perhaps a week. See July 30, 1854 ("I find the new rudbeckia in five distinct and distant parts of the town."); See also   August 6, 1853 ("The rudbeckia must have been out at least a week or more; half the buds have opened."); August 16, 1852 ("I must look for the rudbeckia which Bradford says he found yesterday behind Joe Clark's");  August 18, 1852 (“Rudbeckia laciniata, sunflower-like tall cone-flower, behind Joe Clark's”).; September 4, 1857 ("Rudbeckia laciniata by Dodge's Brook"); September 21, 1857 ("Rudbeckia laciniata done, probably some time.")

A green bittern. . .with heavy flapping flight, its legs dangling. See May 6, 1852 ("A green bittern, a gawky bird.”); June 25, 1854 (A green bittern . . . awkwardly alighting on the trees and uttering its hoarse, zarry note,”); July 12, 1854 (“[A] green bittern wading in a shallow muddy place, with an awkward teetering, fluttering pace.”); May 16, 1855 ("A green bittern with its dark-green coat and crest, sitting watchful, goes off with a limping peetweet flight.”); July 29, 1859 ("Heard from a bittern, a peculiar hoarse, grating note, lazily uttered as it flew over the meadows. A bittern's croak: a sound perfectly becoming the bird, as far as possible from music."); July 31, 1859 ("The small green bitterns are especially numerous."); August 1, 1858 ("So the green bitterns are leaving the nest now"); August 2, 1856 ("A green bittern comes, noiselessly flapping, with stealthy and inquisitive looking to this side the stream and then that . . There is a sympathy between its sluggish flight and the sluggish flow of the stream,.— its slowly lapsing flight,"); August 24, 1860 (“[A] green bittern nearby standing erect on Monroe's boat. Finding that it is observed, it draws in its head and stoops to conceal itself. It allows me to approach so near, apparently being deceived by some tame ducks there. When it flies it seems to have no tail.”); August 31, 1858 ("At Goose Pond I scare up a small green bittern. It plods along low, a few feet over the surface, with limping flight, and alights on a slender water-killed stump, and voids its excrement just as it starts again, as if to lighten itself. ") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau. The Green Bittern

July 30. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, July 30

A perfect dog-day.

Atmosphere thick, mildewy.

obscuring the sun.

Haymakers at work 

dressed simply – a straw hat, boots, 

shirt, and pantaloons

 A green bittern 

in flapping flight dangling legs, 

not observing me. 

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, 

The secrets of the river bottom

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

https://tinyurl.com/hdt-560730 

A chimney swallow’s nest.

July 29

Rhexia. Probably would be earlier if not mowed down.

What I have called Hieracium Gronovii, with three cauline leaves and without veins, has achenia like H . venosum; so I will give it up. Its radical leaves are very hairy beneath, especially along midrib. 

Another smart rain, with lightning. 

Pratt gave me a chimney swallow's nest, which he says fell down Wesson's chimney with young in it two or three days ago. As it comes to me, it is in the form of the segment of the circumference of a sphere whose diameter is three and a half inches, the segment being two plus wide, one side, of course, longer than the other. It bears a little soot on the inner side. It may have been placed against a slanting part of the chimney, or perhaps some of the outer edge is broken off. 

It is composed wholly of stout twigs, one to two inches long, one sixteenth to one eighth inch diameter, held quasi cob-fashion, so as to form a sort of basketwork one third to one half inch thick, without any lining, at least in this, but very open to the air. These twigs, which are quite knubby, seem to be of the apple, elm, and the like, and are firmly fastened together by a very conspicuous whitish semi-transparent glue, which is laid on pretty copiously, sometimes extending continuously one inch. 

It reminds me of the edible nests of the Chinese swallow. Who knows but their edibleness is due to a similar glue secreted by the bird and used still more profusely in building its nests? 

The chimney swallow is said to break off the twigs as it flies. 

Pratt says he one day walked out with Wesson, with their rifles, as far as Hunt's Bridge. Looking down stream, he saw a swallow sitting on a bush very far off, at which he took aim and fired with ball. He was surprised to see that he had touched the swallow, for it flew directly across the river toward Simon Brown's barn, always descending toward the earth or water, not being able to maintain itself; but what surprised him most was to see a second swallow come flying be hind and repeatedly strike the other with all his force beneath, so as to toss him up as often as he approached the ground and enable him to continue his flight, and thus he continued to do till they were out of sight. 

Pratt said he resolved that he would never fire at a swallow again. 

Looked at a Sharp's rifle, a Colt's revolver, a Maynard's, and a Thurber's revolver. The last fires fastest (by a steady pull), but not so smartly, and is not much esteemed.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, July 29, 1856

Rhexia. Probably would be earlier if not mowed down. See July 29, 1853 ("About these times some hundreds of men with freshly sharpened scythes make an irruption into my garden when in its rankest condition, and clip my herbs all as close as they can,"); September 18, 1854 ("Fringed gentian . . .that has been cut off by the mowers, . . . may after all be earlier.")  See also July 18, 1852 ("The petals of the rhexia have a beautiful clear purple with a violet tinge."); August 1, 1856 (" They make a splendid show, these brilliant rose-colored patches . . Yet few ever see them in this perfection, unless the haymaker who levels them, or the birds that fly over the meadow.") and  A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Rhexia Virginica (meadow-beauty)

What I have called Hieracium Gronovii , has achenia like H . venosum; so I will give it up. See October 23, 1853  ("Is it Gronovii or veiny-leaved?") and note to July 17, 1853 ("I think we have no Hieracium Gronoviis")

July 29. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, July 29

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

Ripe sand cherry.

July 28

At 1.30 a thunder-shower, which was much needed, the corn having rolled and trees suffered. 

3.30 p. m. — To Climbing Fern.

Virgin's-bower, apparently two or three days.

Nabalus albus, a day or two. 

Sand cherry ripe. The fruit droops in umble-like clusters, two to four peduncles together, on each side the axil of a branchlet or a leaf. Emerson and Gray call it dark-red. It is black when ripe. 

Emerson, Gray, and Bigelow speak of it as rare in this State! It is common enough here. I have seen it as abundant as anywhere on Weir (or Ware) Hill in Sudbury, Bigelow's own town. 

Cherry three eighths of an inch diameter, peduncle seven sixteenths long. Emerson calls it eatable! 

On Linnaea Hill. By factory road clearing, the small rough sunflower, two or three days. 

Gerardia flava, apparently several days.

Cicuta bulbosa, several days. 

Richweed at Brown's oak, several days (since 16th; say 22d).

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, July 28, 1856

To Climbing Fern. See November 24, 1851 ("Found on the south side of the [Ministerial] swamp the Lygodium palmatum, which Bigelow calls the only climbing fern in our latitude, an evergreen."); November 30, 1851 (“The Lygodium palmatum is quite abundant on that side of the swamp, twining round the goldenrods”); August 14, 1854 ("3 P.M. To climbing fern with E. Hoar. It takes a good deal of care and patience to unwind this fern without injuring it"); October 2, 1859 (“The climbing fern is perfectly fresh, — and apparently therefore an evergreen, — the more easily found amid the withered cinnamon and flowering ferns.”); May 1, 1859 ("The climbing fern is persistent, i. e. retains its greenness still, though now partly brown and withered.")

Nabalus albus, a day or two. See September 6, 1851 ("Gray calls Nabalus albus, white lettuce or rattlesnake-root.");  August 27, 1858 ("The Nabalus albus has been out some ten days,"); September 13, 1857 ("The nabalus family generally, apparently now in prime"); September 17, 1857 (“I go to Fair Haven Hill, looking at the varieties of nabalus, which have a singular prominence now in all woods and roadsides. ”); September 23, 1857 ("Varieties of nabalus grow along the Walden road in the woods; also, still more abundant, by the Flint's Pond road in the woods.”)

Sand cherry ripe. See August 10, 1860 ("Sand cherry is well ripe — some of it — and tolerable, better than the red cherry or choke-cherry.")

By factory road clearing, the small rough sunflower, two or three days. See July 29, 1853 (“The sight of the small rough sunflower about a dry ditch bank and hedge advances me at once further toward autumn.”); August 1, 1852 ("The small rough sunflower (Helianthus divaricatus) tells of August heats”); August 1, 1855 ("Small rough sunflower a day or two.”)

Gerardia flava, apparently several days. See July 28, 1853 ("The Gerardia flava in the hickory grove behind Lee's Cliff.") See also July 22, 1854 ("Gerardia flava, apparently two or three days, Lupine Hillside up railroad, near fence") [Gerardia flava now know as Aureolaria flava (smooth false foxglove)]

July 28. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, July 28

Sand cherry. Ripe fruit

droops from peduncles in

umble-like clusters.

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Ripe sand cherry. 

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

https://tinyurl.com/hdt-560728

A great devil's-needle alights on my paddle.

July 27

Lobelia cardinalis, three or four days, with similar white glands (?) on edges of leaves as in L. spicata. Why is not this noticed? 

Cornus sericea about done.

As I paddle by Dodge's Brook, a great devil's-needle alights on my paddle, between my hands. It is about three inches long and three and a half in spread of wings, without spots, black and yellow, with green eyes (?). It keeps its place within a few inches of my eyes, while I was paddle some twenty-five rods against a strong wind, clinging closely. Perhaps it chose that place for coolness this hot day. 

To-day, as yesterday, it is more comfortable to be walking or paddling at 2 and 3 p. m., when there is wind, but at five the wind goes down and it is very still and suffocating. I afterward saw other great devil's-needles, the forward part of their bodies light-blue and very stout. 

The Stellaria longifolia is out of bloom and drying up. Vide some of this date pressed. 

At Bath Place, above, many yellow lily pads are left high and dry for a long time, in the zizania hollow, a foot or more above the dry sand, yet with very firm and healthy green leaves, almost the only ones not eaten by insects now. This river is quite low. 

The yellow lilies stand up seven or eight inches above the water, and, opposite to Merriam's, the rocks show their brown backs very thick (though some are concealed), like sheep and oxen lying down and chewing the cud in a meadow. I frequently run on to one — glad when it's the smooth side — and am tilted up this way or that, or spin round as on a central pivot. They bear the red or blue paint from many a boat, and here their moss has been rubbed off. 

Ceratophyllum is now apparently in bloom commonly, with its crimson-dotted involucre. 

I am surprised to find kalmiana lilies scattered thinly all along the Assabet, a few small, commonly reddish pads in middle of river, but I see no flowers. It is their great bluish waved (some green) radical leaves which I had mistaken for those of the heart-leaf, the floating leaves being so small. These and vallisneria washed up some time. The radical leaves of the heart-leaf are very small and rather triangular. 

I see, on a rock in midstream, a peetweet within a foot of a turtle, both eying me anxiously within two rods, but not minding each other. 

Zizania  (wild rice)

Zizania scarce out some days at least.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, July 27, 1856

A great devil's-needle alights on my paddle. See June 13, 1854 ("I float homeward over water almost perfectly smooth, my sail so idle that I count ten devil's-needles resting along it at once."); July 17, 1854 ("I am surprised to see crossing my course in middle of Fair Haven Pond great yellowish devil's-needles, flying from shore to shore.") See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, the Devil's-needle

June 13. 

Floating homeward, I 

count devil's-needles at rest 

on my idle sail.

July 17.

Flying shore to shore, 

yellowish devil's-needles 

cross their Atlantic. 

July 27

A devil's-needle 

keeps its place on my paddle

against a strong wind.

July 27, 1856

I see, on a rock in midstream, a peetweet within a foot of a turtle, both eying me anxiously. See June 21, 1855 ("Peetweets make quite a noise calling to their young with alarm."); July 2, 1853 ("The peetweets are quite noisy about the rocks in Merrick’s pasture when I approach; have eggs or young there, which they are anxious about."); July 2, 1860 ("Nowadays hear . . . by the river fields the alarm note of the peetweets, concerned about their young."); July 6, 1856 ("The distressed or anxious peet of a peetweet. . . hovering over its young, half grown.") [Thoreau's Peetweet is the Spotted Sandpiper  (Actitis macularia)]

Zizania scarce out some days at least. See July 22, 1854 ("Zizania, a day, with a handsome light-green panicle a foot or more long, a long slender stem, and corn-like leaves frequently more than an inch wide"); July 24, 1853 ("The zizania, some days."); August 12, 1860 ("Zizania several days"); August 14, 1859 ("The zizania now makes quite a show along the river."); August 15, 1858 ("Wild [rice], apparently in prime. This is quite interesting and handsome, so tall and loose. The lower, spreading and loosely drooping, dangling or blown one side like a flag, staminate branches of its ample panicle are of a lively yellowish green, contrasting with the very distant upright pistillate branches, suggesting a spear with a small flag at the base of its head. It is our wild grain, unharvested.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Zizania (wild rice)

July 27. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, July 27

Peetweet and turtle

eyeing me anxiously – not 

minding each other.

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, A great devil's-needle alights on my paddle

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

https://tinyurl.com/hdt-560727

Arranged the hypericums in bottles this morning and watched their opening. The pod of the ellipticum, when cut, smells like a bee.

July 26 

Saturday. 5 a.m. — Up Assabet. 

July 26, 2026 7:20AM

July 26, 2019 8:18 PM

The sun's disk is seen round and red for a long distance above the horizon, through the thick but cloudless atmosphere, threatening heat, — hot, dry weather. 

At five the lilies had not opened, but began about 5.15 and were abundantly out at six. 

Arranged the hypericums in bottles this morning and watched their opening. 

The H. angulosum (?) has a pod one-celled (with three parietal placentae), conical, oblong, acute, at length longer than the sepals, purple. (The Canadense has from three to five (!) placentae and the mutilum three to four (!), as I find, notwithstanding Gray.) Styles three, short, distinct, and spreading; stamens twenty, more or less, obscurely clustered. Petals oblong. (Do not see the single lateral tooth mentioned by Eaton.) Corolla twelve to fourteen fortieths of an inch in diameter.

It is strict, slender, ten to twenty inches high; stem sharply four-angled, like Canadense, and cyme as naked or more so. The large ones make a singularly compact (flat-topped) corymb, of many narrow pods at last. Leaves oblong-lanceolate or linear-lanceolate, commonly blunt, but often gradually tapering and acute, broadest near the base and clasping, one to one and a half inches long by one eighth to three eighths wide, black-dotted beneath. Ground neither very dry nor very moist. 

It differs from Canadense, which it resembles, in being a larger plant every way, narrower in proportion to height, having more stamens, and in the form of its leaves.

Corolla of mutilum nine to eleven fortieths of an inch in diameter; Canadense, twelve to thirteen fortieths; corymbosum eighteen fortieths.

The corymbosum in chamber shut up at night. All but Sarothra, which may not be advanced enough, (I have no elodea), opened by 5 a. m., corymbosum and angulosum very fairly; but mutilum, Canadense, and angulosum curled and shut up by 9 a. m. !! 

The corymbosum shut up in afternoon. The perforatum and ellipticum alone were open all day. The four lesser ones are very shy to open and remain open very little while, this weather at least. I suspect that in the fields, also, they are open only very early or on cloudy days. 
H. Canadense and mutilum are often fifteen inches high. 

The largest and most conspicuous purple pods are those of the ellipticum. Those of the angulosum and Canadense are smaller and more pointed; are also purple, and the mutilum perhaps duller purple and less conspicuous. 

Pale St. John's-wort
Hypericum ellipticum

The pod of the ellipticum, when cut, smells like a bee. The united styles arm it like a beak or spine. This appears to be the most nearly out of bloom of all. I am surprised that Gray says it is somewhat four-angled. It is distinctly two-angled and round between. 

The Hubbard aster may be the A. Tradescanti. 

The large potamogeton off Dodd's seems to be the natans, from size of nutlets, etc. Then there is the second, off Clamshell, a long time out. And the third, heterophyllus (?), or what I have called hybridus, also long out. 

Drank up the last of my birch wine. It is an exceedingly grateful drink now, especially the aromatic, mead like, apparently checkerberry-flavored one, which on the whole I think must be the black birch. It is a surprisingly high-flavored drink, thus easily obtained, and considering that it had so little taste at first. Perhaps it would have continued to improve.

P. M. — To Poorhouse Pasture. 

Nettle, some time. Ambrosia botrys, apparently a few days. A. Radula, ditch by pasture, several days apparently. Lycopus sinuatus, some time. 

I see young larks fly pretty well before me. 

Smaller bur-reed (Sparganium Americanum), judging from form of stigma (ovate and oblique), yet the leaves are almost entirely concave (!), Stow's ditch. Is this the same with that in river? How long? 

It is very still and sultry this afternoon, at 6 p. m. even. I cannot even sit down in the pasture for want of air, but must keep up and moving, else I should suffocate. Thermometer ninety-seven and ninety-eight to-day. The pig pants and melts in his pen, and water must be cast on him.

Agassiz says he has discovered that the haddock, a deep-sea fish, is viviparous.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, July 26, 1856

Arranged the hypericums in bottles this morning. See July 25, 1856 ("Up river to see hypericums out.") See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, St. Johns-wort (Hypericum)

The largest and most conspicuous purple pods are those of the ellipticum. See July 14, 1854 ("The red capsules of the Hypericum ellipticum, here and there. This one of the fall-ward phenomena in still rainy days.");  July 19, 1856 ("It is the Hypericum ellipticum and Canadense (linear- leaved) whose red pods are noticed now.")

The pod of the ellipticum, when cut, smells like a bee. See August 19, 1856 ("The small hypericums have a peculiar smart, somewhat lemon-like fragrance, but bee-like."); August 30, 1856 ("Bruised, [sarothra] has the fragrance of sorrel and lemon, rather pungent or stinging, like a bee."); See also June 13, 1858 ("The ledum . . . has a rather agreeable fragrance, between turpentine and strawberries. It is rather strong and penetrating, and some times reminds me of the peculiar scent of a bee. The young leaves, bruised and touched to the nose, even make it smart"); October 16, 1859 (“The ledum smells like a bee, — that peculiar scent they have. C, too, perceives it.”) and also June 21, 1852 ("The adder's-tongue arethusa smells exactly like a snake.")

July 26. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, July 26

From GoBotany: 

Family

Hypericaceae (st. john’s-wort family)

The latin name Hypericum derives from ancient Greek hyper, meaning 'above' and eikon meaning 'picture'. This refers to the traditional practice of placing flowers above an image in the house to ward off evil spirits at the midsummer festival that later became the Feast of St. John, thus the common name.

This Genus’s Species in New England:

• Hypericum adpressum
• Hypericum ascyron
• Hypericum boreale
• Hypericum canadense
• Hypericum densiflorum
• Hypericum dolabriforme
• Hypericum ellipticum
• Hypericum frondosum
• Hypericum gentianoides
• Hypericum majus
• Hypericum mutilum
• Hypericum perforatum
• Hypericum prolificum
• Hypericum punctatum
• Hypericum stragulum

 When cut, the pod of

ellipticum – Pale St. John's-

wort – smells like a bee.

Sun's disk round and red

seen well above horizon

through thick atmosphere

 

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