Speaking of the meadow-hay which is lost this year.

September 30. 

Cattle-Show. 

An overcast, mizzling, and rainy day. 

Minott tells of a General Hull, who lived some where in this county, who, he remembers, called out the whole division once or twice to a muster. He sold the army under him to the English in the last war, — though General Miller of Lincoln besought to let him lead them, — and never was happy after it, had no peace of mind. It was said that his life was in danger here in consequence of his treason. 

Once, at a muster in front of the Hayden house, when there was a sham fight, and an Indian party took a circuit round a piece of wood, some put green grapes into their guns, and he, hearing one whistle by his head, thought some one wished to shoot him and ordered them to disperse, — dismissed them. 

Speaking of the meadow-hay which is lost this year, Minott said that the little they had got since the last flood before this was good for nothing, would only poison the cattle, being covered with the dried slime and filth of the freshet. When you mowed it there arose a great dust. He spoke of this grass, thus left over winter to next year, as "old fog." 

Said that Clark (Daniel or Brooks) asked him the other day what made so many young alders and birches and willows spring up in the river meadows of late years; it didn't use to be so forty or fifty years ago; and he told him that in old times, when they were accustomed to take something strong to drink, they didn't stand for such shrubs but mowed all clear as they went, but now, not feeling so much energy for want of the stimulant, when they came to a bush, though no bigger than a pipe-stem, they mowed all round it and left it standing.

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

Minott tells of a General Hull, who lived some where in this county.... William Hull ( 1753-1825) moved to his wife's family estate in Newton after the Revolution and served as a judge and state senator until Jefferson appointed him Governor of the Michigan where he surrendered Fort Detroit to the British on August 16, 1812.

Speaking of the meadow-hay which is lost this year . . . See  September 25, 1856 ("The river has risen again considerably (this I believe the fourth time) . . .before the farmers have succeeded in their late attempt to get their meadow-hay ."); August 22, 1856 (“I see much hay floating, and two or three cocks, quite black, carried round and round in a great eddy by the side of the stream,"); August 1, 1856 (“Unfortunate those who have not got their hay. I see them wading in overflowed meadows and pitching the black and mouldy swaths about in vain that they may dry.")

What made so many young alders and birches and willows spring up in the river meadows of late years . . . See August 25,1856 ("Why do maples, alders, etc., at present border the stream, though they do not spring up to any extent in the open meadow?"); August 3, 1856 ("In a meadow now being mown I see that the ferns and small osiers are as thick as the grass. If modern farmers do not collect elm and other leaves for their cattle, they do thus mow and cure the willows, etc., etc., to a considerable extent, so that they come to large bushes or trees only on the edge of the meadow.")

How surely the desmodium or the bidens prophesy the coming of the traveller, brute or human, that will transport their seeds on his coat!

September 29.

 P. M. — To Grape Cliff. 

September 29, 2016

The pea-vine fruit is partly ripe, little black-dotted beans, about three in a pod. 

I can hardly clamber along the grape cliff now with out getting my clothes covered with desmodium ticks, — there especially the rotundifolium and paniculatum. Though you were running for your life, they would have time to catch and cling to your clothes, — often piece of a saw blade with three teeth. You pause at a convenient place and spend a long time picking them off, which it took so short a time to attach. They will even cling to your hand as you go by. They cling like babes to the mother's breast, by instinct. Instead of being caught and detained ourselves by birdlime, we are compelled to catch these seeds and carry them with us. 

These almost invisible nets, as it were, are spread for us, and whole coveys of desmodium and bidens seeds and burs steal transportation out of us. I have found myself often covered, as it were with an imbricated scaly coat of the brown desmodium seeds or a bristling chevaux-de-frise of beggar-ticks, and had to spend a quarter of an hour or more picking them off at some convenient place; and so they got just what they wanted, deposited in another place. 

How surely the desmodium, growing on some rough cliff-side, or the bidens, on the edge of a pool, prophesy the coming of the traveller, brute or human, that will transport their seeds on his coat! 

I am late for grapes; most have fallen. The fruit of what I have called Vitis aestivalis has partly fallen. It is dark-purple, about seven sixteenths of an inch in diameter, very acid and commonly hard. Stem and petiole smooth and purplish, but leaf not smooth or green beneath. Should not this be called frost grape, rather than the earlier one I ate at Brattleboro? Grapes are singularly various for a wild fruit, like many cultivated ones. 

Dr. Reynolds told me the other day of a Canada lynx (?) killed in Andover, in a swamp, some years ago, when he was teaching school in Tewksbury; thought to be one of a pair, the other being killed or seen in Derry. Its large track was seen in the snow in Tewksbury and traced to Andover and back. They saw where it had leaped thirty feet! and where it devoured rabbits. Was on a tree when shot. Skin stuffed some where.

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

Though you were running for your life, they would have time to catch and cling to your clothes, — often piece of a saw blade with three teeth.  See August 7, 1856 ("At Blackberry Steep, apparently an early broad-leafed variety of Desmodium paniculatum, two or three days. This and similar plants are common there and may almost name the place . . . All these plants seem to love a dry open hillside, a steep one. Are rarely upright, but spreading, wand-like."); August 26, 1856 ("These desmodiums are so fine and inobvious that it is difficult to detect them. I go through a grove in vain, but when I get away, find my coat covered with their pods. They found me, though I did not them.”); September 10, 1851 ("The Desmodium paniculatum of De Candolle and Gray (Hedysarum paniculatum of Linnaeus and Bigelow), tick-trefoil, with still one blossom, by the path-side up from the meadow. The rhomboidal joints of its loments adhere to my clothes. One of an interesting family that thus disperse themselves.")     See also October 2, 1852 ("The beggar-ticks (Bidens) now adhere to my clothes. I also find the desmodium sooner thus. . . than if I used my eyes alone."); October 23, 1853 ("I find my clothes all bristling as with a chevaux-de-frise of beggar-ticks, which hold on for many days. A storm of arrows these weeds have showered on me, as I went through their moats. How irksome the task to rid one's self of them! We are fain to let some adhere. Through thick and thin I wear some; hold on many days. In an instant a thousand seeds of the bidens fastened themselves firmly to my clothes, and I carried them for miles, planting one here and another there. “);  October 12, 1851 ("The seeds of the bidens,-without florets, beggar-ticks, with four-barbed awns like hay-hooks, now adhere to your clothes, so that you are all bristling with them. Certainly they adhere to nothing so readily as to woolen cloth, as if in the creation of them the invention of woolen clothing by man had been foreseen. How tenacious of its purpose to spread and plant its race. By all methods nature secures this end, whether by the balloon, or parachute, or hook, or barbed spear like this, or mere lightness which the winds can waft.")

I am late for grapes; most have fallen.  See September 27, 1858 ("Grapes have begun to shrivel on their stems. They drop off on the slightest touch, and if they fall into the water are lost, going to the bottom. You see the grape leaves touched with frost curled up and looking crisp on their edges"); October 1, 1853 ("Grapevines, curled, crisped, and browned by the frosts, are now more conspicuous than ever. Some grapes still hang on the vines."); October 2, 1857 ("Grape leaves were killed and crisped by the last frost.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Grape

A Canada lynx killed in Andover, in a swamp, some years ago .See Natural History of Massachusetts (1842) ("The bear, wolf, lynx, wildcat, deer, beaver, and marten have disappeared "); March 23, 1856 ("I consider that the nobler animals have been exterminated here, — the cougar, panther, lynx, wolverene, wolf, bear, moose, deer, the beaver, the turkey, etc., etc., — I cannot but feel as if I lived in a tamed, and, as it were, emasculated country."); September 9, 1856) ("The most interesting sight I saw in Brattleboro was the skin and skull of a panther . . .It gave one a new idea of our American forests and the vigor of nature here."); September 11, 1860 ("George Melvin came to tell me this forenoon that a strange animal was killed on Sunday. . ."); September 13, 1860 ("Five [lynx] I have heard of (and seen three) killed within some fifteen or eighteen miles of Concord within thirty years past."); October 17, 1860 ("[I]t belongs here, - I call it the Concord lynx."); November 29, 1860("I have thought that a lynx was a bright-eyed, four-legged, furry beast of the cat kind. But he knew it to be a draught drawn by the cashier of the wildcat bank on the State treasury, payable at sight.")

Scarlet berry season.

September 28. 

P. M. — To old mill-site behind Ponkawtasset.

Black or purplish-black

poke berries hanging around

the bright-purple stems.

(poison)

Poke berries in the sprout-land east of the red huckleberry still fresh and abundant, perhaps a little past prime. I never saw so many. The plants stand close together, and their drooping racemes three to five inches long, of black or purplish-black berries , almost crowd one another, hanging around the bright-purple, now for the most part bare, stems.

I hear some birds about, but see none feeding on the berries. I could soon gather bushels there. 

The arum berries are still fresh and abundant, perhaps in their prime. A large cluster is two and a half inches long by two wide and rather flattish. One, which has ripened prematurely, the stalk being withered and drooping, resembles a very short thick ear of scarlet corn. This might well enough be called snake-corn. These singular vermilion-colored berries, about a hundred of them, surmount a purple bag on a peduncle six or eight inches long. 

It is one of the most remarkable and dazzling, if not the handsomest, fruits we have. These were by violet wood-sorrel wall. 

How many fruits are scarlet now! — barberries, prinos, etc.

A flock of vireo-like, somewhat yellowish birds, very neat, white beneath and olive above, in garden.

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


Poke, arum ... See August 23, 1853 ("Poke stems are now ripe. . . .Their stems are a deep, rich purple with a bloom, contrasting with the clear green leaves. Its stalks, thus full of purple wine, are one of the fruits of autumn.");  August 28, 1856 ("See the great oval masses of scarlet berries of the arum now in the meadows."); September 2, 1853 (" The dense oval bunches of arum berries now startle the walker in swamps. They are a brilliant vermilion .”); September 3, 1853  ("Now is the season for those comparatively rare but beautiful wild berries which are not food for man."); September 27, 1852 ("The arum berries are now in perfection, cone-shaped spikes an inch and a half long, of scarlet or vermilion- colored, irregular, somewhat pear-shaped berries springing from a purplish core.")

How many fruits are scarlet now! See September 28, 1851 ("The swamp is bordered with the red-berried alder, or prinos,") See also August 22, 1852 ("Perhaps fruits are colored like the trillium berry and the scarlet thorn to attract birds to them.")

There is a slight coolness in the air, yet the sun is occasionally very warm.

September 27.

September 27, 2014

The bluebird family revisit their box and warble as in spring. 

P. M. — To Clamshell by boat. 

Solidago speciosa not quite out!! 

Viburnum nudum berries are soon gone. I noticed none to speak of in Hubbard's Swamp, September 15th. 

Start up a snipe in the meadow. 

Bathed at Hubbard's Bath, but found the water very cold. Bathing about over. 

It is a very fine afternoon to be on the water, some what Indian-summer-like. I do not know what constitutes the peculiarity and charm of this weather; the broad water so smooth, notwithstanding the slight wind, as if, owing to some oiliness, the wind slid over without ruffling it. There is a slight coolness in the air, yet the sun is occasionally very warm. 

I am tempted to say that the air is singularly clear, yet I see it is quite hazy. Perhaps it is that transparency it is said to possess when full of moisture and before or after rain. Through this I see the colors of trees and shrubs beginning to put on their October dress, and the creak of the mole cricket sounds late along the shore. 

The Aster multiflorus may easily be confounded with the A. Tradescanti. Like it, it whitens the roadside in some places. It has purplish disks, but a less straggling top than the Tradescanti.

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

The bluebird family revisit their box... See September 12, 1854 ("I see plump young bluebirds in small flocks along the fences . . .")

Viburnum nudum berries are soon gone. See September 3, 1856 ("Gather four or five quarts of Viburnum nudum berries, now in their prime, attracted more by the beauty of the cymes than the flavor of the fruit. The berries, which are of various sizes and forms, — elliptical, oblong, or globular, — are in different stages of maturity on the same cyme, and so of different colors, — green or white, rose-colored, and dark purple or black.")

Bathing about over. See  September 2, 1854 ("Bathe at Hubbard’s. The water is surprisingly cold . . .. It is a very important and remarkable autumnal change. It will not be warm again probably."); September 12, 1854 ("I find it colder again than on the 2d, so that I stay in but a moment."); September 26 1854 ("Took my last bath the 24th . Probably shall not bathe again this year. It was chilling cold.") See also  A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Luxury of Bathing

A very fine afternoon to be on the water, some what Indian-summer-like  See September 21, 1854 ("A fine-grained air, seething or shimmering as I look over the fields, reminds me of the Indian summer that is to come.")

The creak of the mole cricket sounds late along the shore.  See September 27, 1855 ("I traced the note of what I have falsely thought the Rana palustris, or cricket frog, to its true source [and] I found a mole cricket (Gryllotalpa brevipennis)."); August 22, 1856 ("The creak of the mole cricket is heard along the shore."); August 18, 1853 ("What means this sense of lateness that so comes over one now") See also  A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, the Cricket in August; A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Cricket in Spring and "What Thoreau Heard in the Song of the Crickets" by Lewis Hyde, NYT Sept. 23, 2023.

The Aster multiflorus may easily be confounded with the A. Tradescanti.  See September 21, 1858 ("Saw no Aster Tradescanti in this walk, but an abundance of A. multiflorus in its prime, in Salem and Marblehead.")

https://tinyurl.com/HDT560927

The haws of the common thorn are now very good eating and handsome

September 25. 

The river has risen again considerably (this I believe the fourth time), owing to the late copious rains. This before the farmers have succeeded in their late attempt to get their meadow-hay after all. It had not got down before this last rain but to within some eighteen inches, at least, of the usual level in September. 

P. M. — To Harrington road. 

A golden-crowned thrush runs off, a few feet at a time, on hillside on Harrington road, as if she had a nest still! 

The haws of the common thorn are now very good eating and handsome. Some of the Crataegus Crus-Galli on the old fence line between Tarbell and T. Wheeler beyond brook are smaller, stale, and not good at all. 

The urtica just beyond Widow Hosmer's barn appears the same with that I called U. gracilis (?) in Brattleboro.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, September 25, 1856

The river has risen again . . . before the farmers have succeeded in their late attempt to get their meadow-hay . . . See August 24, 1856 ("The river meadows probably will not be mown this year. I can hardly get under the stone bridge without striking my boat.”)

A golden-crowned thrush runs off . . . as if she had a nest still! See June 18, 1854 ("Observe in two places golden-crowned thrushes, near whose nests I must have been ...”); August 6, 1852 (“With the goldenrod comes the goldfinch. About the time his cool twitter is heard, does not the . . .oven-bird, etc . cease?”)

Crataegus Crus-Galli on the old fence line.  . . . Crataegus crus-galli (cockspur thorn) is a species of hawthorn.  See June 10, 1856 ("The Crataegus Crus-Galli is out of bloom”); March 16, 1855 ("At the woodchuck’s hole just beyond the cockspur thorn”).

Methinks it stands thus with goldenrods and asters now.

September 24. 

P. M. — To Saw Mill Brook. 

Not a sign of an artichoke flower yet below Moore's! May they not be earlier elsewhere? 

At brook, cohush and arum berries still fresh, and Viburnum acerifolium berries. 

Apparently Asplenium Thelypteroides, a large fern, its under side covered with linear fruit. 

Methinks it stands thus with goldenrods and asters now:

Early S. stricia, done some time.
Swamp "   " probably past prime.
My S. gigantea (?), probably done.
S. nemoralis, about done.
S. altissima, much past prime.
S. odora, not seen but probably done.
S. puberula, say in good condition, or in prime.

S. bicolor and var. concolor, in prime.
S. lanceolata, say done.
S. lalifolia, in prime.
S. casta, in prime.
S. speciosa (none the 15th).

Early meadow aster, say done long time.

Diplopappus cornifolius, not seen of late.
D. umbellatus, still abundant.
A. patens, some still fresh but not common.
A. macrophyllus, not observed of late.
A. acuminatum, not observed at all in C.
A. Radula, probably about done, not seen of late.
A. dumosus, considerably past prime. D. linariifolius, in prime, abundant.
A. undulatus, in prime, abundant.
A. corymbosus, still fresh though probably past prime.
A. laevis, probably still in prime.
A. Tradescanli, in prime.
A. puniceus, still in prime (??).
A. hngifolius, in prime.
A. multiflorus, in prime.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, September 24, 1856 

Not a sign of an artichoke flower yet . . . See October 5, 1860 ("The frosts have this year killed all of Stow's artichokes before one of them had blossomed, but those in Alcott's garden had bloomed probably a fortnight ago.”)

Cohush and arum berries still fresh, and Viburnum acerifolium berries . . . See September 1, 1856 ("Cohush berries appear now to be in their prime, and arum berries”); September 3, 1853 ("Now is the season for those comparatively rare but beautiful wild berries which are not food for man. . . .”)

Goldenrods and asters. See September 1, 1856  ("I think it stands about thus with asters and golden- rods now. . .”); August 21, 1856 ("The prevailing solidagos now are, 1st, stricta (the upland and also meadow one which I seem to have called puberula); 2d, the three-ribbed, of apparently several varieties, which I have called arguta or gigantea (apparently truly the last); 3d, altissima, though commonly only a part of its panicles; 4th, nemoralis, just beginning generally to bloom.Then there is the odora, 5th, out some time, but not common; and, 6th, the bicolor, just begun in some places. The commonest asters now are, 1st, the Radula; 2d, dumosus; 3d, patens; 4th, say puniceus; 5th, cordtfolius; 6th, macrophyllus; (these two a good while); 7th, say Tradescanti ; 8th, miser; 9th, longifolius ; (these three quite rare yet); 10th, probably acuminatus, some time (not seen); 11th, undulatus ; 12th, loevis; (these two scarcely to be seen yet). “)

Pennyroyal tea.

September 22. 

A rainy day. 

Tried some pennyroyal tea, but found it too medicinal for my taste. Yet I collect these herbs, biding the time when their use shall be discovered.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, September 22, 1856

I collect these herbs.  See August 1, 1855 ("Pennyroyal and alpine enchanter’s-nightshade well out, how long?”); August 11, 1853 ("Evening draws on while I am gathering bundles of pennyroyal on the further Conantum height. I find it amid the stubble mixed with blue-curls and, as fast as I get my hand full, tie it into a fragrant bundle.”); August 13, 1852 ("Pennyroyal abundant in bloom. I find it springing from the soil lodged on large rocks in sprout-lands, and gather a little bundle, which scents my pocket for many days."); August 13, 1856 (“Is there not now a prevalence of aromatic herbs in prime? — The polygala roots, blue-curls, wormwood, pennyroyal, . . . etc., etc. Does not the season require this tonic?“); August 26, 1856 ("I gather a bundle of pennyroyal; it grows largest and rankest high and close under these rocks, amid the loose stones.") See also December 14, 1855 ("In a little hollow I see the sere gray pennyroyal rising above the snow, which, snuffed, reminds me of garrets full of herbs.”)

The advantage of going abroad

September 21. 

September 21, 2015

P. M. — To Cliffs. 

Asclepias Cornuti discounting. The seeded parachutes which I release soon come to earth, but probably if they waited for a stronger wind to release them they would be carried far. 

Solidago nemoralis mostly done. 

Aster undulatus in prime, in the dry woods just beyond Hayden's, large slanting, pyramidal panicles of some lilac-tinged, others quite white, flowers, size of Diplopappus linariifolius. 

Solidago altissima past prime. 

Prinos berries. 

I hear of late faint chewink notes in the shrubbery, as if they were meditating their strains in a subdued tone against another year. 

A. dumosus past prime. 

Am surprised to see on top of Cliffs, where Wheeler burned in the spring and had cut rye, by a large rock, some very large perfectly fresh Corydalis glauca, still well in bloom as well as gone to seed, two and a half feet high and five eighths of an inch thick at base. There are also many large tufts of its glaucous leaves on the black burnt ground which have not come to flower, amid the rye stubble. The bumblebees are sucking its flowers. 

Beside the young oak and the sprouts, poke-weed, erechthites, and this corydalis even are common there. How far is this due to the fire, aside from the clearing? 

Was not the fireweed seed sown by the wind last fall, blown into the woods, where there was a lull which caused it to settle? Perhaps it is fitted to escape or resist fire. The wind which the fire creates may, perchance, lift it again out of harm's way.

The Asclepias obtusifolia is turned yellow. I see its often perfectly upright slender pod five inches long. It soon bursts in my chamber and shows its beautiful straw- colored lining. A fairy-like casket, shaped like a canoe, with its closely packed imbricated brown seeds, with their yet compressed silvery parachutes like finest unsoiled silk in the right position above them, ready to be wafted some dry and breezy day to their destined places. 

On top of Cliff, behind the big stump, a yellow white goldenrod, var. concolor, which Gray refers to Pennsylvania, apparently with the common. That is a great place for white goldenrod, now in its prime and swarming with honey-bees. 

Scare up turtle doves in the stubble. Uva-ursi berries quite ripe. 

Find, for first time in Concord, Solanum nigrum, berries apparently just ripe, by a rock northwest of corydalis. Thus I have within a week found in Concord two of the new plants I found up-country. Such is the advantage of going abroad, — to enable [you] to detect your own plants. I detected them first abroad, because there I was looking for the strange. 

It is a warm and very hazy day, with wreaths of mist in horizon.

See, in the cow-killer on railroad, a small mountain-ash naturalized!

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, September 21, 1856

Late faint chewink notes in the shrubbery . . . See September 21, 1854 (" Hear the chewink and the cluck of the thrasher."); September 19, 1858 ("Hear a chewink’s chewink. But how ineffectual is the note of a bird now! We hear it as if we heard it not, and forget it immediately.")

Within a week found in Concord two of the new plants I found up-country. See September 10, 1856 ("Descending the steep south end of this hill [Fall Mountain near Bellow Falls], I saw an apparent Corydalis glauca . . .  By the railroad below, the Solanum nigrum, with white flowers but yet green fruit.") See also September 22, 1859 ("The Solanum nigrum, which is rare in Concord, with many flowers and green fruit.")

I detected them first abroad, because there I was looking for the strange. See August 6, 1851 ("It takes a man of genius to travel in his own country, in his native village; to make any progress between his door and his gate."). September 19, 1853 ("[the Maine woods]I looked very narrowly at the vegetation as we glided along close to the shore. . . that I might see what was primitive about our Concord River."); September 2, 1856 ("It commonly chances that I make my most interesting botanical discoveries when I am in a thrilled and expectant mood . . . prepared for strange things."); November 4, 1858 ("We cannot see any thing until we are possessed with the idea of it, and then we can hardly see anything else.")

tinyurl.com/HDTabroad

Many teal about the river now.

September 20. 

Melvin says that there are many teal about the river now. 

Rain in afternoon. Rain again in the night, hard.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, September 20, 1856

Many teal about the river now. See September 20, 1851 ("I see ducks or teal flying silent, swift, and straight, the wild creatures."); See also September 22, 1852 ("Has been a great flight of blue-winged teal this season. "); August 29, 1855 ("Saw two green-winged teal, somewhat pigeon-like, on a flat low rock in the Assabet.")

Rain in afternoon. Rain again in the night, hard. See note to September 20, 1857 ("This is our first fall rain, and makes a dividing line between the summer and fall.")

A month or more of huckleberrying for every man, woman, and child, and the birds into the bargain . . .

September 19. 

September 19, 2016

Am surprised to find the Polygonum Pennsylvanvcum abundant, by the roadside near the bank. First saw it the other day at Brattleboro. This makes, as I reckon, twenty polygonums that I know, all but cilinode and Virginianum in Concord. Is not this a late kind? It grows larger than the Persicaria. 

Observe an Aster undulatus behind oak at foot of hill on Assabet, with lower leaves not heart-shaped.

Gather just half a bushel of barberries on hill in less than two hours, or three pecks to-day and yesterday in less than three hours. It is singular that I have so few, if any, competitors. I have the pleasure also of bringing them home in my boat. They will be more valuable this year, since apples and cranberries are scarce. These barberries are more than the apple crop to me, for we shall have them on the table daily all winter, while the two barrels of apples which we lay up will not amount to so much. 

Also, what is the pear crop to the huckleberry crop? They make a great ado about their pears, those who get any, but how many families raise or buy a barrel of pears all told ? The pear crop is insignificant compared with the huckleberry crop. The one does not concern me, the other does. I do not taste more than six pears annually, and I suspect the majority fare worse than I, but nature heaps the table with berries for six weeks or more. 

Indeed the apple crop is not so important as the huckleberry crop. Probably the apples consumed in this town do not amount to more than one barrel a family, but what is this to a month or more of huckleberrying for every man, woman, and child, and the birds into the bargain? 

They are not unprofitable in a pecuniary sense. I hear that some of the inhabitants of Ashby have sold two thousand dollars' worth the past season.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, September 19, 1856

Three pecks to-day and yesterday in less than three hours. See September 18, 1856 ("I get a full peck from about three bushes."); September 25, 1855 ("We get about three pecks of barberries from four or five bushes,"); October 1, 1853 ("Got three pecks of barberries.”)

What is the pear crop to the huckleberry crop? See May 28, 1854 ("The huckleberries . . . are now generally in blossom, . . full of promise for the summer. One of the great crops of the year . . .The berry-promising flower of the Vacciniece. This crop grows wild all over the country, — wholesome, bountiful, and free . . .")

A dextrous barberry-picker

September 18. 

P. M. — By boat to Conantum, barberrying.

Diplopappus linariifolius in prime.

River gone down more than I expected after the great rise, to within some eighteen inches of low-water mark, but on account of freshet I have seen no Bidens Beckii nor chrysanthemoides nor Polygonum amphibium var. aquaticum in it, nor elsewhere the myriophyllums this year.


The witch-hazel at Conantum just begun here and there; some may have been out two or three days. It is apparently later with us than the fringed gentian, which I have supposed was out by September 7th. Yet I saw the witch-hazel out in Brattleboro September 8th, then apparently for a day or two, while the Browns thought the gentian was not out. It is still a question, perhaps, though unquestionably the gentian is now far more generally out here than the hazel. 

Lespedezas, violacea, hirta, Stuvei, etc., — at Blackberry Steep, done. 

Solidago caesia in prime at Bittern Cliff Wood. 

The barberries are not fairly turned, but I gather them that I may not be anticipated, — a peck of large ones. 

I strip off a whole row of racemes at one sweep, bending the prickles and getting as few leaves as possible, so getting a handful at once. The racemes appear unusually long this season, and the berries large, though not so thick as I have seen them. I consider myself a dextrous barberry-picker, as if I had been born in the Barberry States. A pair of gloves would be convenient, for, with all my knack, it will be some days before I get all the prickles out of my fingers. 

I get a full peck from about three bushes. 

Scared up the same flock of four apparent summer ducks, which, what with myself, a belated (in season) haymaker, and a fisherman above, have hardly a resting-place left. The fisherman takes it for granted that I am after ducks or fishes, surely. 

I see no traces of frost yet along the river. See no pontederia fall, for they are covered with water. 

The Cornus sericea is most changed and drooping. Smilacina berries of both kinds now commonly ripe, but not so edible as at first, methinks.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, September 18, 1856

The gentian is now far more generally out here than the hazel. See September 18, 1854 ("Fringed gentian near Peter’s out a short time, . . ., it may after all be earlier than the hazel.”); September 18, 1859 ("From the observation of this year I should say that the fringed gentian opened before the witch-hazel,. . .”) See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau: The Fringed Gentian

The barberries are not fairly turned . . . See September 13, 1856 ("Barberries. . . already handsomely red, though not much more than half turned”) and September 13, 1852 ("The barberries, now reddening, begin to show.”).

With all my knack, it will be some days before I get all the prickles out of my fingers. See September 25, 1855 ("We get about three pecks of barberries from four or five bushes, but I fill my fingers with prickles to pay for them.”)

The fisherman takes it for granted that I am after ducks or fishes, surely. See June 26, 1853 ("Fishing is often the young man's introduction to the forest and wild. As a hunter and fisher he goes thither until at last the naturalist or poet distinguishes that which attracted him first, and he leaves the gun and rod behind.”)

Teasel seed.

September 16. 

P. M. — To Harris's Mill, Acton, with Father. 

September 16, 2016

Aster lavis apparently in prime; very handsome its long, slanting, broad-topped wands by the roadside, even in dry soil, its rays longer and richer purple than usual. 

See a flock of pigeons dash by. From a stout breast they taper straightly and slenderly to the tail. They have been catching them a while. 

William Monroe is said to have been the first who raised teasels about here. He was very sly about it, and fearful lest he should have competitors. At length he lent his wagon to a neighbor, who discovered some teasel seed on the bottom, which he carefully saved and planted, and so competed with Monroe.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, September 16, 1856


William Monroe is said to have been the first who raised teasels about here. See April 2, 1853 ("Together with the driftwood on the shore of the Assabet and the sawdust from Heywood's mill, I pick up teasel-heads from the factory with the wool still in them. ”); April 11, 1856 ("Here, also, in the river wreck is the never-failing teazle, telling of the factory above, and sawdust from the mill. The teased river! These I do not notice on the South Branch. “); November 18, 1860  ("I frequently see the heads of teasel, called fuller’s thistle, floating on our river, having come from factories above, and thus the factories which use it may distribute its seeds by means of the streams which turn their machinery, from one to another. The one who first cultivated the teasel extensively in this town is said to have obtained the seed when it was not to be purchased - the culture being monopolized - by sweeping a wagon which he had loaned to a teasel-raiser.")

It is no surprise that Henry does not dust his furniture.

September 15. 

Monday. 

Sophia says, bringing company into my sanctum, by way of apology, that I regard the dust on my furniture like the bloom on fruits, not to be swept off. Which reminds me that the bloom on fruits and stems is the only dust which settles on Nature's furniture. 

P. M. — To Hubbard's Swamp. 

Aster longifolius and puniceus and Spiranthes cernua in prime. 

Early Solidago stricta (that is, arguta) done, but some putting out again in the axils, while dead at top, maybe owing to the rains. 

Meadow-sweet lingers yet! 

What I must call Bidens cernua, like a small chrysanthemoides, is bristly hairy, somewhat connate and apparently regularly toothed. 

The hypericums generally appear to be now about done. I see none.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, September 15, 1856

Solidago stricta done . . . See September 18, 1852 ("The goldenrods have generally lost their brightness.")

What I must call Bidens cernua . . . See September 14, 1854 ("The great bidens, the flower and ornament of the riversides at present, and now in its glory,. . . Full of the sun. It needs a name.")

3 1/2 hour night walk around the perimeter of our land

Before the trail of the rainbow bridge we had up the old logging road and start clearing branches etc. out-of-the-way. It is quite overgrown.

 We have not been this way in many years The stream has rutted it out but in places it is in Old Woods Road. I remember this is the path we first took on our first walk on this land

Clear some more bigger stuff heading straight east up the stream to our boundary then continue on to the neighbors land bushwhacking mostly and then following a trace of a logging road first this way than that.  

I use my Compass to check our course against my sense of direction.

 Comfortable we are heading towards the land but not knowing just where we will come out. It turns out we are in a perfect spot at the base of the ramp

It is good to see the trail markers ahead

We go up the mountain trial. Near the top the full moon begins to show between the trees but at the top it is mostly hidden. We sit for a while water the dogs and then head over to East land

Jane decides to walk in the muck of the pond and I hear her  exclaim occasionally as she sinks in

Down the ravine veer left to the Beech Lane 

We are seeing large orb weavers and nearby I see spiders in miniature perfect webs shown in our headlamps.  

Out to the corner of the moose trail where right in that little detour 

is a pile of bear scat full of? 

Hobble bush seed she pokes then smells it no smell or slightly fruity

Now we are walking out down the Moose Trail

 and cutting across just before a log I find one of her old gloves half buried there lost for several years.

 Then we turn right of the new trail in an ancient steam bed leading over to the ski trail there is a log it needs cutting, the dogs have to jump over.

A black woolly caterpillar in the path on the way down

 I realize we are circumnavigating our land clockwise first on and off the north boundary 

then the east boundary the south boundary the west boundary.

 I suggest we go over to the cliff in the northwest corner past the old loggers spring

We end up bushwhacking in a steep open evergreen woods.

Near home Jane sees an owl on  a branch close in front of her

 and a wooly bear in the path by the fence.

Trail now overgrown 

sudden memories of our

first walk on this land.

September 15, 2016 

How ever unexpected are these later flowers!

September 14. 

cheered by the sight of
an Aster Novae-Angliae

P. M. — To Hubbard's Close and Cardinal Ditch. 

Now for the Aster Tradescanti along low roads, like the Turnpike, swarming with butterflies and bees. Some of them are pink. 

How ever unexpected are these later flowers! 

You thought that Nature had about wound up her affairs. You had seen what she could do this year, and had not noticed a few weeds by the roadside, or mistook them for the remains of summer flowers now hastening to their fall; you thought you knew every twig and leaf by the roadside, and no thing more was to be looked for there; and now, to your surprise, these ditches are crowded with millions of little stars. They suddenly spring up and face you, with their legions on each side the way, as if they had lain in ambuscade there. The flowering of the ditches. 

Call them travellers' thoughts, numerous though small, worth a penny at least, which, sown in spring and summer, in the fall spring up unobserved at first, successively dusted and washed, mingled with nettles and beggar-ticks as a highway harvest. A starry meteoric shower, a milky way, in the flowery kingdom in whose aisles we travel. 

Let the traveller bethink himself, elevate and expand his thoughts somewhat, that his successors may oftener hereafter be cheered by the sight of an Aster Novae-Angliae or spectabilis here and there, to remind him that a poet or philosopher has passed this way. 

The gardener with all his assiduity does not raise such a variety, nor so many successive crops on the same space, as Nature in the very roadside ditches. There they have stood, begrimed with dust and the wash of the road so long, and made acquaintance with passing sheep and cattle and swine, gathering a trivial experience, and now at last the fall rains have come to wash off some of that dust, and even they exhibit these dense flowery panicles as the result of all that experience, as pure for an hour as if they grew by some wild brook-side. Successor to Mayweed & Co. 

Is not mayweed, by the way, the flower furthest advanced into the road rut or mid-channel, like the kalmiana lily in the river? The mid- channel, where the stream of travel flows deep and strong, unless it is far up the stream toward its fountainhead, no flower invades. Mayweed! what a misnomer! Call it rut-weed rather. 

Goodyera pubescens apparently just done. 

Fringed gentian well out (and some withered or frost-bitten?), say a week, though there was none to be seen here August 27th. 

I see the fruit and flowers of Polygonum Careyi affected with smut like corn.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, September 14, 1856

Let the traveller bethink himself, elevate and expand his thoughts somewhat, that his successors may oftener hereafter be cheered by the sight of an Aster . . . to remind him that a poet or philosopher has passed this way. See August 30, 1856 "The more thrilling, wonderful, divine objects I behold in a day, the more expanded and immortal I become. If a stone appeals to me and elevates me, tells me how many miles I have come, how many remain to travel, — and the more, the better, — reveals the future to me in some measure, it is a matter of private rejoicing.")

Fringed gentian well out . . . See September 14, 1855 ("To Hubbard's Close. . . .  I see no fringed gentian yet.. ")

Nature improves this her last opportunity to empty her lap of flowers.

September 13. 

September 13, 2016

Saturday. At Concord. — After all, I am struck by the greater luxuriance of the same species of plants here than up-country, though our soil is considered leaner.

Also I think that no view I have had of the Connecticut Valley, at Brattleboro or Walpole, is equal to that of the Concord from Nawshawtuct. Here is a more interesting horizon, more variety and richness. 

Our river is much the most fertile in every sense. Up there it is nothing but river-valley and hills. Here there is so much more that we have forgotten that we live in a valley. 

8 a. m. — Up Assabet. 

Gather quite a parcel of grapes, quite ripe. Difficult to break off the large bunches without some dropping off. Yet the best are more admirable for fragrance than for flavor. Depositing them in the bows of the boat, they fill all the air with their fragrance, as we row along against the wind, as if we were rowing through an endless vineyard in its maturity. 

The Aster Tradescanti now sugars the banks densely, since I left, a week ago. Nature improves this her last opportunity to empty her lap of flowers. 

Ascend the hill. 

The barberries are abundant there, and already handsomely red, though not much more than half turned. 

Surprised at the profusion of autumnal dandelions in their prime on the top of the hill, about the oaks. Never saw them thicker in a meadow. A cool, spring-suggesting yellow. They reserve their force till this season, though they begin so early. Cool to the eye, as the creak of the cricket to the ear. 

The Viburnum Lentago, which I left not half turned red when I went up-country a week ago, are now quite black-purple and shrivelled like raisins on my table, and sweet to taste, though chiefly seed.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, September 13, 1856

Depositing them in the bows of the boat, they fill all the air with their fragrance, . . . as if we were rowing through an endless vineyard in its maturity. See September 8, 1854 ("As I paddle home with my basket of grapes in the bow, every now and then their perfume was wafted to me in the stern, and I think that I am passing a richly laden vine on shore.")

Barberries. . . already handsomely red, though not much more than half turned. See September 13, 1852 ("The barberries, now reddening, begin to show."). See also October 1, 1853 (" Got three pecks of barberries.") and September 25, 1855 (We get about three pecks of barberries from four or five bushes”). September 18, 1856 ("I get a full peck from about three bushes.”)

Surprised at the profusion of autumnal dandelions in their prime . . .. They reserve their force till this season . . .See September 13, 1852  ("How earnestly and rapidly each creature, each flower, is fulfilling its part while its day lasts! . . .")