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| October 6, 2017 |
P. M. — To Saw Mill Brook via Hubbard’s Close.
A beautiful bright afternoon, still warmer than yesterday.
I carry my coat on my arm. This weather makes the locust to be heard, – many of them. I go along the hill from the old burying-ground and descend at Minott's.
Everything — all fruits and leaves, the reddish-silvery feathery grass in clumps [Andropogon scoparius], even the surfaces of stone and stubble – are all ripe in this air. Yes, the hue of maturity has come even to that fine silver-topped feathery grass, two or three feet high, in clumps on dry places. I am riper for thought, too.
Of trees which are numerous here and form consider able masses or groups, those now sufficiently changed in their color to attract the eye generally are red maple (in prime), — N. B., the white maples began in water long ago, but are rare, — white birch (perhaps in prime), young oaks in sprout-lands, etc. (especially young scar let oaks), white ash, white pines (when near), elms, buttonwoods, and perhaps walnuts. Some others are equally changed, but so rare or distant from the village as to make less impression on me.
The shrubs now generally conspicuous from some distance, from their changed color and mass, are huckleberries and blueberries (high and low), smooth sumach and Rhus venenata, woodbine, button-bush, and grape perhaps.
I observe too that the ferns of a rich brown (being sere), about swamps, etc., are an important feature. A broad belt of rich brown (and crisp) ferns stands about many a bright maple swamp.
Some maples are in form and color like hickories, tall and irregular. It, indeed, admits of singular variety in form and color. I see one now shaped like a hickory which is a very rich yellow with a tinge of brown, which, when I turn my head slightly, concealing the trunk, looks like a mass of yellow cloud, wreath upon wreath, drifting through the air, stratified by the wind.
The trumpet-weeds are perfectly killed sere brown along the fences.
Think what a change, unperceived by many, has within a month come over the landscape!
Then the general, the universal, hue was green. Now see those brilliant scarlet and glowing yellow trees in the low lands a mile off! I see them, too, here and there on the sides of hills, standing out distinct, mere bright ... and squads perchance, often in long broken lines, and so apparently elevated by their distinct color that they seem arranged like the remnants of a morning mist just retreating in a broken line along the hillsides. Or see that crowd in the swamp half a mile through, all vying with one another, a blaze of glory. See those crimson patches far away on the hill sides, like dense flocks of crimson sheep, where the huckleberry reminds of recent excursions. See those patches of rich brown in the low grounds, where the ferns stand shrivelled. See the greenish-yellow phalanxes of birches, and the crisped yellowish elm-tops here and there.
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| October 6, 2017 |
The very pumpkins yellowing in the fields become a feature in the landscape, and thus they have shone, maybe, for a thousand years here.
I have just read Ruskin’s “Modern Painters.” I am disappointed in not finding it a more out-of-door book, for I have heard that such was its character, but its title might have warned me. He does not describe Nature as Nature, but as Turner painted her, and though the work betrays that he has given a close attention to Nature, it appears to have been with an artist's and critic's design. How much is written about Nature as somebody has portrayed her, how little about Nature as she is, and chiefly concerns us, i.e. how much prose, how little poetry!
Going through Ebby Hubbard's woods, I see thousands of white pine cones on the ground, fresh light brown, which lately opened and shed their seeds and lie curled up on the ground. The seeds are rather pleasant or nutritious tasting, taken in quantity, like beech nuts, methinks.
I see a great quantity of hypopitys, now all sere, along the path in the woods beyond. Call it Pine-Sap Path. It seems to have been a favorable season for it. It was evidently withered earlier than the tobacco-pipe, which is still pretty white!
Going through the Ministerial sprout-lands, I see the young oaks generally turning scarlet, and chestnuts, too, the young and also the old.
The lower chestnut leaves are among the most interesting now when closely inspected, varying from green to yellow, very finely and richly peppered with brown and green spots, at length turning brown with a tinge of crimson; but they, like others, must be seen on the twig, for they fade immediately, or in one night, if plucked. These brilliant leaves are as tender and inclined to wilt and fade as flowers, indeed are more transitory.
The amelanchier is yellowing and reddening a little, and also falling.
I see Lobelia inflata leaves in the shade, a peculiar hoary white.
I see one or two chestnut burs open on the trees. The squirrels, red and gray, are on all sides throwing them down. You cannot stand long in the woods without hearing one fall.
As I came up the Turnpike, I smelt that strong scented —like carrion, etc. – obscene fungus at the mossy bank, and I saw a dozen of those large flat oval black bugs with light-colored shoulder-pieces, such as, methinks, I see on carrion, feeding on its remnants.
. . .
The frontier houses [in Maine] preserve many of the features of the logging-camp. . . .
Looking up Trout Stream, it seemed as wild a place for a man to live as we had seen. What a difference between a residence there and within five minutes’ walk of the depot! What different men the two lives must turn out!
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, October 6, 1857
I smelt that strong scented ... – obscene fungus at the mossy bank, See October 16, 1856 ("'Phallus impudicus, Stinking Morel, very fetid.' In all respects a most disgusting object, yet very suggestive. . . .as offensive to the eye as to the scent, the cap rapidly melting and defiling what it touched with a fetid, olivaceous, semiliquid matter.. . .")
The very pumpkins yellowing in the fields become a feature in the landscape, and thus they have shone, maybe, for a thousand years here. see August 12, 1854 ("It is already the yellowing year."); August 27, 1853 ("Topping corn now reveals the yellowing pumpkins."); See August 28, 1859 ("Pumpkins begin to be yellow."); September 4, 1859 ("Topping the corn, which has been going on some days, now reveals the yellow and yellowing pumpkins. This is a genuine New England scene. The earth blazes not only with sun-flowers but with sun-fruits."); September 18, 1858 ("The earth is yellowing in the September sun.")
I see a great quantity of hypopitys, now all sere, along the path in the woods beyond. Call it Pine-Sap Path. See July 29, 1853 ("Hypopitys lanuginosa, American pine-sap, just pushing up . . . It is cream-colored or yellowish under the pines in Hubbard's Wood Path . . . A plant related to the tobacco-pipe."); August 13, 1858 ("Hypopytis abundantly out (how long ?), apparently a good while, in that long wood-path on the left side, under the oak wood, before you begin to rise, going from the river end . . . Not generally quite so high as the Monotropa uniflora which grows with it. I see still in their midst the dry upright brown spikes of last year’s seed-vessels."); August 23, 1858 ("See an abundance of pine-sap on the right of Pine-sap Path."); October 14, 1858 ("On the top of Ball’s Hill, nearly half-way its length, the red pine-sap, quite fresh, apparently not long in bloom, the flower recurved. As last year, I suspect that this variety is later than the yellowish one, of which I have seen none for a long time. The last, in E. Hubbard’s wood, is all brown and withered.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Pine-sap and Tobacco-pipe
Going through Ebby Hubbard's woods, I see thousands of white pine cones on the ground, fresh light brown, which lately opened and shed their seeds and lie curled up on the ground. The seeds are rather pleasant or nutritious tasting, taken in quantity, like beech nuts, methinks.
I see a great quantity of hypopitys, now all sere, along the path in the woods beyond. Call it Pine-Sap Path. It seems to have been a favorable season for it. It was evidently withered earlier than the tobacco-pipe, which is still pretty white!
Going through the Ministerial sprout-lands, I see the young oaks generally turning scarlet, and chestnuts, too, the young and also the old.
The lower chestnut leaves are among the most interesting now when closely inspected, varying from green to yellow, very finely and richly peppered with brown and green spots, at length turning brown with a tinge of crimson; but they, like others, must be seen on the twig, for they fade immediately, or in one night, if plucked. These brilliant leaves are as tender and inclined to wilt and fade as flowers, indeed are more transitory.
The amelanchier is yellowing and reddening a little, and also falling.
I see Lobelia inflata leaves in the shade, a peculiar hoary white.
I see one or two chestnut burs open on the trees. The squirrels, red and gray, are on all sides throwing them down. You cannot stand long in the woods without hearing one fall.
As I came up the Turnpike, I smelt that strong scented —like carrion, etc. – obscene fungus at the mossy bank, and I saw a dozen of those large flat oval black bugs with light-colored shoulder-pieces, such as, methinks, I see on carrion, feeding on its remnants.
. . .
The frontier houses [in Maine] preserve many of the features of the logging-camp. . . .
Looking up Trout Stream, it seemed as wild a place for a man to live as we had seen. What a difference between a residence there and within five minutes’ walk of the depot! What different men the two lives must turn out!
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, October 6, 1857
I smelt that strong scented ... – obscene fungus at the mossy bank, See October 16, 1856 ("'Phallus impudicus, Stinking Morel, very fetid.' In all respects a most disgusting object, yet very suggestive. . . .as offensive to the eye as to the scent, the cap rapidly melting and defiling what it touched with a fetid, olivaceous, semiliquid matter.. . .")
The very pumpkins yellowing in the fields become a feature in the landscape, and thus they have shone, maybe, for a thousand years here. see August 12, 1854 ("It is already the yellowing year."); August 27, 1853 ("Topping corn now reveals the yellowing pumpkins."); See August 28, 1859 ("Pumpkins begin to be yellow."); September 4, 1859 ("Topping the corn, which has been going on some days, now reveals the yellow and yellowing pumpkins. This is a genuine New England scene. The earth blazes not only with sun-flowers but with sun-fruits."); September 18, 1858 ("The earth is yellowing in the September sun.")
I see a great quantity of hypopitys, now all sere, along the path in the woods beyond. Call it Pine-Sap Path. See July 29, 1853 ("Hypopitys lanuginosa, American pine-sap, just pushing up . . . It is cream-colored or yellowish under the pines in Hubbard's Wood Path . . . A plant related to the tobacco-pipe."); August 13, 1858 ("Hypopytis abundantly out (how long ?), apparently a good while, in that long wood-path on the left side, under the oak wood, before you begin to rise, going from the river end . . . Not generally quite so high as the Monotropa uniflora which grows with it. I see still in their midst the dry upright brown spikes of last year’s seed-vessels."); August 23, 1858 ("See an abundance of pine-sap on the right of Pine-sap Path."); October 14, 1858 ("On the top of Ball’s Hill, nearly half-way its length, the red pine-sap, quite fresh, apparently not long in bloom, the flower recurved. As last year, I suspect that this variety is later than the yellowish one, of which I have seen none for a long time. The last, in E. Hubbard’s wood, is all brown and withered.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Pine-sap and Tobacco-pipe
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