April 10,
1852 (“See ahead the waves running higher in the middle of the meadow, and
here they get the full sweep of the wind and they break into whitecaps. ”).
See April 10, 1856 ("I set out to sail, the wind
northwest, but it is so strong, and I so feeble, that I gave it up. The waves
dashed over into the boat and with their sprinkling wet me half through in a
few moments.");April 14, 1856 ("I
steer down straight through the Great Meadows, with the wind almost directly
aft, feeling it more and more the farther I advance into them. They make a
noble lake now. The boat, tossed up by the rolling billows, keeps falling again
on the waves with a chucking sound which is inspiriting"); March 16, 1860
("I make more boisterous and stormy voyages now than at any season. . . .
I vastly increase my sphere and experience by a boat.") See
also A Book of the
Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Sailing
April 10, 1853 (“The male red maple buds are about ready to open”). See April 1,
1860 ("The red maple buds are considerably expanded, and no doubt make a
greater impression of redness.")
April 10, 1854 (“The crimson
stigmas of the white maple make handsome show”).. See March 29, 1853 ("The female flowers of the
white maple, crimson stigmas from the same rounded masses of buds with the
male, are now quite abundant. . . . The two sorts of flowers are not only on
the same tree and the same twig and sometimes in the same bud, but also
sometimes in the same little cup."); April 8, 1855 ("The crimson
female stigmas also peeping forth. See also A
Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, White
Maple Buds and Flowers
April 10, 1855 (“As
for the saxifrage, when I had given it up for to-day, having, after a long
search in the warmest clefts and recesses, found only three or four buds which
showed some white, I at length, on a still warmer shelf, found one flower partly
expanded, and its common peduncle had shot up an inch”).. See
April 8, 1858 ("At Lee's Cliff I find no saxifrage in bloom above the
rock,. .. but on a few small warm shelves under the rocks the saxifrage makes
already a pretty white edging along the edge of the grass sod [?] on the rocks;
has got up three or four inches, and may have been out four or five
days.")
April 10, 1855 (“At
Lee’s the early sedge; one only sheds pollen. ”).See April 7, 1854 ("On the Cliff I find, after long and
careful search, one sedge above the rocks, low amid the withered blades of last
year, out, its little yellow beard amid the dry blades and few green ones,
— the first herbaceous flowering I have detected. . . . It must have been so
first either on the 5th or 6th.”)
April 10, 1856 (“I
set out to sail, the wind northwest, but it is so strong, and I so feeble, that
I gave it up”).. . . . See April 10, 1852 ("We lay to in the lee of an island a
little north of the bridge, where the surface is quite smooth, and the woods
shelter us completely, while we hear the roar of the wind behind them, with an
agreeable sense of protection, and see the white caps of the waves on either
side.")
April 10, 1856 (“Our
meadow looks as angry now as it ever can.”). See March 29,
1852 (“The water on the meadows looks very dark from the
street. . . . There is more water and it is more ruffled at this season than at
any other, and the waves look quite angry and black. ”) March 18, 1854
("The white caps of the waves on the flooded meadow, seen from the window,
are a rare and exciting spectacle, — such an angry face as our Concord meadows
rarely exhibit.")
April 10, 1856 (“Went to look at the golden saxifrage in Hubbard’s Close
.”).. See April 12, 1855 ("Golden saxifrage out at Hubbard’s
Close, -- one, at least, effete. It may have been the 10th.”); April 1, 1855
“(One of the earliest-looking plants in water is the golden saxifrage.”)[Golden-saxifrage
(Chrysosplenium americanum), a native wetland and aquatic plant that
frequents small streams and seepy areas in swamps and forests. The
inconspicuous flowers are noticeable only for their eight brick-red anthers
when it blooms in May.]
April 10, 1859 (“Hear the first stuttering frog croak —
probably halecina”)..:[Rana halecina (Lithobates pipiens) – Northern Leopard Frog.] See April 3, 1858
(“I stood perfectly still, and ere long they began to reappear one by one, and
spread themselves out on the surface. They were the R. halecina. I
could see very plainly the two very prominent yellow lines along the sides of
the head and the large dark ocellated marks, even under water, on the thighs,
etc. Gradually they begin to recover their voices, but it is hard to say at
first which one of the dozen within twenty feet is speaking. . . .. Their note
is a hard dry tut tut tut tut, not at all ringing like the toad’s, and produced
with very little swelling or motion of the throat, but as much trembling of the
whole body; and from time to time one makes that faint somewhat
bullfrog-like er er er. Both these sounds, then, are made by one
frog, and what I have formerly thought an early bullfrog note was this. This, I
think, is the first frog sound I have heard from the river meadows or anywhere,
except the croaking leaf-pool frogs and the hylodes. . . . This might be called
the Day of the Snoring Frogs, or the Awakening of the Meadows. “); April 5,
1855 ("Hear from one half-flooded meadow that low, general, hard,
stuttering tut tut tut of frogs,—the awakening of the
meadow.”); April 8, 1852 ("To-day I hear the croak of frogs in small
pond-holes in the woods"); ; April 9, 1853 (“The whole meadow resounds,
probably from one end of the river to the other, this evening, with this faint,
stertorous breathing. It is the waking up of the meadows." );April 13,
1855 ("The small croaking frogs are now generally heard in all those
stagnant ponds or pools in woods floored with leaves, which are mainly dried up
in the summer."); ; April 13, 1856 ("As I go by the Andromeda
Ponds, I hear the tut tut of a few croaking frogs. . .");
April 15, 1855 ("That general tut tut tut tut, or snoring, of frogs on the
shallow meadow heard first slightly the 5th. )
April 10, 1859 (“This
makes twenty-two days of windy weather.”) See April 6, 1859 ("For nineteen days, from the 19th of
March to the 6th of April, both inclusive, we have had remarkably windy
weather. For ten days of the nineteen the wind has been remarkably strong and
violent . . .The last seven, including to-day, have all been windy, five of
them remarkably so; wind from northwest."); April 8, 1859 ("We have had,
most of the time, during this windy weather for a month past, when the wind was
northwest, those peculiar brushy clouds which look as if a little snow or rain
was falling in the northwest, but they prove to be wind chiefly.")
April 10, 1860 (Cheney
elm, many anthers shed pollen, probably 7th “”). See note to April 7, 1859 ("The
Cheney elm looks as if it would shed pollen to-morrow,[no], and the Salix
purpurea will perhaps within a week")
April 10, 1860 (“Salix purpurea apparently will not open for four or five
days”). See April 13,
1859 ("The Salix purpurea will
hardly open for five days yet."); April 22, 1859 ("The Salix purpurea in
prime, out probably three or four days; say 19th.")
April 10, 1861 (“Purple
finch”). See April 18, 1852 ("Observe all kinds of
coincidences, as what kinds of birds come with what flowers."); April 7, 1859 ("The
Cheney elm looks as if it would shed pollen to-morrow."); April 7, 1860 ("The purple
finch, — if not before"); April 10,
1860 ("Cheney elm, many anthers shed pollen, probably
7th."); April 11, 1853 ("I
hear the clear, loud whistle of a purple finch, somewhat like and nearly as
loud as the robin, from the elm by Whiting's."); April 12, 1855 ("I hear a purple
finch . . . on an elm, steadily warbling and uttering a sharp chip from time to
time"); April 12, 1856 ("There
suddenly flits before me . . . a splendid purple finch. Its glowing redness is
revealed when it lifts its wings."); April 13,
1852 ("The elm buds begin to show their
blossoms."); April 15,
1856 ("The purple finch is singing on the elms about the
house, together with the robins, whose strain its resembles, ending with a
loud, shrill, ringing chili chilt chilt chilt."); April 15, 1854 ("The arrival of the purple finches
appears to be coincident with the blossoming of the elm, on whose blossom it
feeds"); See also A Book of the
Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Elms and
the Purple Finch
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