July 6, 2018
The grass in the fields and meadows is not so fresh and fair as it was a fortnight ago. It is dryer and riper and ready for the mowers. Now June is past. June is the month for grass and flowers. Now grass is turning to hay, and flowers to fruits. Already I gather ripe blueberries on the hills.
It is wonderful
our senses ever span so
vast
an interval
that first faint tinge of
moonlight from the east before
day has departed
that grass is turning
to hay and flowers to fruit -
that now June is past
For a week or more
grass now seriously in the
way of the walker.
Rained last night as well
as all yesterday and some
of the night before.
Grass and flowers pass.
Now grass is turning to hay
and flowers to fruits.
July 6, 1861
July 6, 2015
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 © 2009-2023
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