The year is but a succession of days,
and I see that I could assign some office to each day
which, summed up, would be the history of the year.
Henry Thoreau, August 24, 1852
July 17, 2019
Gentle steady rain
without thunder or lightning —
the first summer rain.
Flying shore to shore
yellowish devil's-needles
cross their Atlantic.
Distant hum of bees
at sunset from the basswood
in flower at the island.
By moonlight I see
bullfrogs lying full length on
the pads where they trump.
July 17, 2016
A summer rain. July 17, 1852
A gentle steady rain, long a-gathering, without thunder or lightning, — such as we have not, and, methinks, could not have had, earlier than this. July 17, 1852
This weather is rather favorable to thought. On all sides is heard a gentle dripping of the rain on the leaves, yet it is perfectly warm. July 17, 1852
I pick raspberries dripping with rain beyond Sleepy Hollow. July 17, 1852.
Notwithstanding the rain, some children still pursue their blackberrying on the Great Fields. July 17, 1852
Beck Stow's Swamp! . . .deep and impenetrable, where the earth quakes for a rod around you at every step, with its open water where the swallows skim and twitter, its meadow and cotton-grass, its dense patches of dwarf andromeda, now brownish-green, with clumps of blueberry bushes, its spruces and its verdurous border of woods imbowering it on every side. July 17, 1852.
Hypericum Canadense. July 17, 1852
There, too, the Hypericum Sarothra has pushed up abundantly. July 17, 1856
Hypericum corymbosum. July 17, 1857
The trees now in the rain look heavy and rich all day, as commonly at twilight, drooping with the weight of wet leaves. July 17, 1852
Am caught in the rain and take shelter under the thick white pine by Lee's Cliff. July 17, 1857
Swallows are active throughout this rain. July 17, 1852.
The trees now in the rain look heavy and rich all day, as commonly at twilight, drooping with the weight of wet leaves. July 17, 1852
Am caught in the rain and take shelter under the thick white pine by Lee's Cliff. July 17, 1857
Swallows are active throughout this rain. July 17, 1852.
Hear a new note from bank swallows when going over the Hosmer pastures, a sort of screep screep, shrill and like what I have referred to the barn swallow. They are probably out with young. July 17, 1856
Bathed at Clamshell. See great schools of minnows, apparently shiners, hovering in the clear shallow next the shore. July 17, 1856
The soft sand on the bottom of Walden, as deep as I can wade, feels very warm to my feet, while the water feels cold. July 17, 1860
A very warm afternoon. Thermometer at 97° at the Hosmer Desert. I hear the early locust. July 17, 1856
Hear at distance the hum of bees from the bass with its drooping flowers at the Island, a few minutes only before sunset. It sounds like the rumbling of a distant train of cars. July 17, 1857.
I see two great devil’s-needles, three inches long, with red abdomens and bodies as big as hummingbirds, sailing round this pond, round and round, and ever and anon darting aside suddenly, probably to seize some prey. July 17, 1853
Meanwhile large yellowish devil's-needles, coupled, are flying about and repeatedly dipping their tails in the water. 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, from Island to Baker's Farm and back, about a foot above the water, some against a head wind; also yellow butterflies; suggesting that these insects see the distant shore and resolve to visit it . . . It looks very bold. If devil's-needles cross Fair Haven, then man may cross the Atlantic, July 17, 1854
I see [under Lee's Cliff] an abundance of chimaphila in bloom. It is a beautiful flower, with its naked umbel of crystalline purplish-white flowers, their disks at an angle with the horizon. On its lower side a ring of purple (or crimson) scales at the base of its concave petals, around the large, green, sticky ovary. July 17, 1857
The soft sand on the bottom of Walden, as deep as I can wade, feels very warm to my feet, while the water feels cold. July 17, 1860
A very warm afternoon. Thermometer at 97° at the Hosmer Desert. I hear the early locust. July 17, 1856
Hear at distance the hum of bees from the bass with its drooping flowers at the Island, a few minutes only before sunset. It sounds like the rumbling of a distant train of cars. July 17, 1857.
I see two great devil’s-needles, three inches long, with red abdomens and bodies as big as hummingbirds, sailing round this pond, round and round, and ever and anon darting aside suddenly, probably to seize some prey. July 17, 1853
Meanwhile large yellowish devil's-needles, coupled, are flying about and repeatedly dipping their tails in the water. 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, from Island to Baker's Farm and back, about a foot above the water, some against a head wind; also yellow butterflies; suggesting that these insects see the distant shore and resolve to visit it . . . It looks very bold. If devil's-needles cross Fair Haven, then man may cross the Atlantic, July 17, 1854
I see [under Lee's Cliff] an abundance of chimaphila in bloom. It is a beautiful flower, with its naked umbel of crystalline purplish-white flowers, their disks at an angle with the horizon. On its lower side a ring of purple (or crimson) scales at the base of its concave petals, around the large, green, sticky ovary. July 17, 1857
In Conant's meadow just behind Wheeler's, the smaller fringed orchis not quite reached by the mowers. It may have been out four or five days. It is a darker purple for being so exposed. None yet opening in the shade. July 17, 1854.
Rank weeds begin to block up low wood-paths, — goldenrods, asters, etc. . . .The Solidago nemoralis (?) in a day or two, - gray goldenrod. July 17, 1853
Again methinks I hear the goldfinch, but not for a day or two the bobolink. July 17, 1852.
It is 5 p. m. The wood thrush begins to sing. July 17, 1856
The nighthawk's ripping sound heard overhead suggests a nearness to the earth, as of a low roof echoing back its sounds. July 17, 1860
The nighthawk's ripping sound heard overhead suggests a nearness to the earth, as of a low roof echoing back its sounds. July 17, 1860
Returning after ten, by moonlight, see the bullfrogs lying at full length on the pads where they trump. July 17, 1857
Also the great bullfrogs which sit out on the stones every two or three rods all around the pond are singularly clean and handsome bullfrogs, with fine yellow throats sharply separated from their pickle-green heads by their firmly shut mouths, and with beautiful eyes. They sit thus imperturbable. July 17, 1860
Also the great bullfrogs which sit out on the stones every two or three rods all around the pond are singularly clean and handsome bullfrogs, with fine yellow throats sharply separated from their pickle-green heads by their firmly shut mouths, and with beautiful eyes. They sit thus imperturbable. July 17, 1860
*****
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, July Moonlight
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, at Beck Stow's Swamp
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Raspberry
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Blackberries
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, St. Johns-wort (Hypericum)
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Purple Fringed Orchids
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Devil's-needle
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Basswood
A Book of Seasons, by Henry Thoreau,, the Nighthawk
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Wood Thrush
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Goldfinch
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Bobolink
A Book of the Seasons by Henry Thoreau, Birds in the Rain
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Luxury of Bathing
July 17, 2015
May 24, 1854 ("Wade into Beck Stow's . . . Surprised to fin the Andromeda Polifolia in bloom and apparently past its prime at least a week or more.")
June 11, 1851 I hear the nighthawks uttering their squeaking notes high in the air now at nine o ' clock P. M., and occasionally— what I do not remember to have heard so late — their booming note. It sounds more as if under a cope than by day . . . echoed hollowly to earth , making the low roof of heaven vibrate")
July 3, 1852 ("The Chimaphila umbellata, wintergreen, must have been in blossom some time.”)
July 4, 1853 ("The cotton-grass at Beck Stow's. Is it different from the early one? ")
July 7, 1859 ("The note of the bobolink has begun to sound rare?")
July 8, 1857 ("Chimaphila umbellata, apparently a day or two. ")
July 10, 1855 ("Great devil’s-needles above the bank, apparently catching flies ")
July 10, 1854 (" The singing birds at present are: . . .Rural: Song sparrow, seringos, flicker, kingbird, goldfinch, link of bobolink, cherry-bird. ")
July 12, 1857 ("The Chimaphila umbellata flower-buds make a very pretty umbel, of half a dozen small purple balls surmounted by a green calyx. They contrast prettily with the glossy green leaves.")
July 12, 1857 (Those little minnows, a third or half inch long or more, which I catch when bathing, hovering over open sandy spaces, as here at Clamshell, appear to be little shiners")
July 12, 1859 ("In the evening, the moon being about full, I paddle up the river to see the moonlight and hear the bullfrogs.")
July 14, 1856 ("Bass out about two days at Island.")
July 14, 1853 (“Saw something blue, or glaucous, in Beck Stow's Swamp to-day; approached and discovered the Andromeda Polifolia, in the midst of the swamp at the north end, not long since out of bloom.")
July 15, 1854 ("The stems and leaves of various asters and golden-rods, which ere long will reign along the way, begin to be conspicuous. ")
July 15, 1854 ("The robin sings still, but the goldfinch twitters over oftener, and I hear the link link of the bobolink, and the crickets creak more as in the fall.")
July 14, 1856 ("Bass out about two days at Island.")
July 14, 1853 (“Saw something blue, or glaucous, in Beck Stow's Swamp to-day; approached and discovered the Andromeda Polifolia, in the midst of the swamp at the north end, not long since out of bloom.")
July 15, 1854 ("The stems and leaves of various asters and golden-rods, which ere long will reign along the way, begin to be conspicuous. ")
July 15, 1854 ("The robin sings still, but the goldfinch twitters over oftener, and I hear the link link of the bobolink, and the crickets creak more as in the fall.")
July 15, 1856 ("Bobolinks are heard — their link, link — above and amid the tall rue which now whitens the meadows”)
July 15, 1859 ("Raspberries, in one swamp, are quite abundant and apparently at their height.")
July 16, 1850 ("Many men walk by day; few walk by night. It is a very different season. Instead of the sun, there are the moon and stars; instead of the wood thrush, there is the whip-poor-will;. . . Instead of singing birds, the croaking of frogs and the intenser dream of crickets.")
July 15, 1859 ("Raspberries, in one swamp, are quite abundant and apparently at their height.")
July 16, 1850 ("Many men walk by day; few walk by night. It is a very different season. Instead of the sun, there are the moon and stars; instead of the wood thrush, there is the whip-poor-will;. . . Instead of singing birds, the croaking of frogs and the intenser dream of crickets.")
July 16, 1851 ("St.John's-wort, one of the first of yellow flowers, begins to shine along the roadside.")
July 16, 1851 ("Berries are just beginning to ripen, and children are planning expeditions after them.")
July 16, 1852 ("The tree resounds with the hum of bees,. . . a sound unlike any other in nature”)
July 16, 1854 ("Solidago nemoralis yesterday. ")
July 16, 1851 ("Berries are just beginning to ripen, and children are planning expeditions after them.")
July 16, 1852 ("The tree resounds with the hum of bees,. . . a sound unlike any other in nature”)
July 16, 1854 ("Solidago nemoralis yesterday. ")
July 16, 1856 ("See several bullfrogs lying fully out on pads at 5 p. m. They trump well these nights. ")
July 18, 1851 ("I first hear the locust sing, so dry and piercing, by the side of the pine woods in the heat of the day.”)
July 18, 1852 ("The swallows twitter over head, the locust, we know not where, is z-ing, and the huckleberry-bird is heard on the birches.")
July 18, 1852 ("The swallows twitter over head, the locust, we know not where, is z-ing, and the huckleberry-bird is heard on the birches.")
July 18, 1853 ("Now are the days to go a-berrying")
July 18, 1854 ("Methinks the asters and goldenrods begin, like the early ripening leaves, with midsummer heats.")
July 18, 1854 ("At a little distance it is like the sound of a waterfall or of the cars; close at hand like a factory full of looms.”)
July 18, 1854 ("At a little distance it is like the sound of a waterfall or of the cars; close at hand like a factory full of looms.”)
July 18, 1854 ("As I go along the Joe Smith road, every bush and bramble bears its fruit; the sides of the road are a fruit garden; blackberries, huckleberries, thimble-berries, fresh and abundant, no signs of drought; all fruits in abundance; the earth teems.")
July 19, 1851("Ripe blackberries are multiplying.")
July 19, 1851 ("And beyond the bridge there is a goldenrod partially blossomed. . . .First came the St. John's-wort and now the goldenrod to admonish us.")
July 19, 1854 ("The more smothering, furnace-like heats are beginning, and the locust days.")
July 19, 1854 ("A wood thrush to-night.")
July 21, 1851("I eat these berries as simply and naturally as thoughts come to my mind")July 19, 1851("Ripe blackberries are multiplying.")
July 19, 1851 ("And beyond the bridge there is a goldenrod partially blossomed. . . .First came the St. John's-wort and now the goldenrod to admonish us.")
July 19, 1854 ("The more smothering, furnace-like heats are beginning, and the locust days.")
July 19, 1854 ("A wood thrush to-night.")
July 19, 1854 ("The white cotton-grass now (and how long ?) at Beck Stow's")
July 20, 1852 ("It is starlight . . . And now, when we had thought the day birds gone to roost, the wood thrush takes up the strain.")
July 20, 1853 ("This is the midsummer night's moon. . . .we are surprised, looking back from the bank, to see that the water is wholly concealed under a white mist, though it was scarcely perceptible when we were in its midst. The few bullfrogs are the chief music.")July 20, 1852 ("It is starlight . . . And now, when we had thought the day birds gone to roost, the wood thrush takes up the strain.")
July 21, 1851 ("The small purple orchis, its spikes half opened")
July 21, 1856 ("Low blackberries thick enough to pick in some places, three or four days.")
July 21, 1856 ("Hypericum corymbosum, a day or two.")July 21, 1856 ("Low blackberries thick enough to pick in some places, three or four days.")
July 22, 1860 ("First locust heard.")
July 23, 1856 ("See apparently young goldfinches about, very freshly bright golden and black.")
July 23, 1859 ("Low blackberries have begun.")
July 23, 1856 ("Bathing in Walden, I find the water considerably colder at the bottom while I stand up to my chin, but the sandy bottom much warmer to my feet than the water.")
July 24, 1853 ("This season of berrying is so far respected that the children have a vacation to pick berries")
July 24, 1856 ("The small purple fringed orchis, apparently three or four days at least.")
July 25, 1856 ("Up river to see hypericums out.")
July 26, 1852("The smaller purple fringed orchis has not quite filled out its spike")
July 26, 1853 ("The goldfinch twitters over oftener.")
July 26, 1856 ("Arranged the hypericums in bottles this morning and watched their opening.")
July 23, 1859 ("Low blackberries have begun.")
July 23, 1856 ("Bathing in Walden, I find the water considerably colder at the bottom while I stand up to my chin, but the sandy bottom much warmer to my feet than the water.")
July 24, 1853 ("This season of berrying is so far respected that the children have a vacation to pick berries")
July 24, 1856 ("The small purple fringed orchis, apparently three or four days at least.")
July 25, 1856 ("Up river to see hypericums out.")
July 26, 1852("The smaller purple fringed orchis has not quite filled out its spike")
July 26, 1853 ("The goldfinch twitters over oftener.")
July 26, 1856 ("Arranged the hypericums in bottles this morning and watched their opening.")
July 27, 1852 ("That the luxury of walking in the river may be perfect it must be very warm, such as are few days even in July . . . Both water and air must be unusually warm; otherwise we shall feel no impulse to cast ourselves into and remain in the stream.")
July 27, 1856 ("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")
July 30, 1853 ("A small purple orchis (Platanthera psycodes) . . . If the meadows were untouched, I should no doubt see many more of the rare white and the beautiful smaller purple orchis there, as I now see a few along the shaded brooks and meadow's edge.")
August 5, 1856 ("S. nemoralis, two or three days.")
August 6, 1852 (“With the goldenrod comes the goldfinch. About the time his cool twitter is heard, does not the bobolink, thrasher, catbird, oven-bird, veery, etc., cease?”)
August 10, 1853 ("The goldfinch sings . . . Of late, and for long time, only the link, link of bobolink.")
August 10, 1854 ("The tinkling notes of goldfinches and bobolinks which we hear nowadays are of one character and peculiar to the season. They are nuts of sound, --ripened seeds of sound. . . like the sparkle on water.”)
August 18, 1854 ("The solidago nemoralis is now abundantly out on the Great Fields.”);
August 21, 1856 ("nemoralis, just beginning generally to bloom.")
August 30, 1856 ("I get my new experiences , , , at Beck Stow's Swamp listening to the native wood thrush.")
July 27, 1856 ("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")
July 30, 1853 ("A small purple orchis (Platanthera psycodes) . . . If the meadows were untouched, I should no doubt see many more of the rare white and the beautiful smaller purple orchis there, as I now see a few along the shaded brooks and meadow's edge.")
August 5, 1856 ("S. nemoralis, two or three days.")
August 6, 1852 (“With the goldenrod comes the goldfinch. About the time his cool twitter is heard, does not the bobolink, thrasher, catbird, oven-bird, veery, etc., cease?”)
August 10, 1853 ("The goldfinch sings . . . Of late, and for long time, only the link, link of bobolink.")
August 10, 1854 ("The tinkling notes of goldfinches and bobolinks which we hear nowadays are of one character and peculiar to the season. They are nuts of sound, --ripened seeds of sound. . . like the sparkle on water.”)
August 18, 1854 ("The solidago nemoralis is now abundantly out on the Great Fields.”);
August 21, 1856 ("nemoralis, just beginning generally to bloom.")
August 30, 1856 ("I get my new experiences , , , at Beck Stow's Swamp listening to the native wood thrush.")
July 17, 2016
If you make the least correct
observation of nature this year,
you will have occasion to repeat it
with illustrations the next,
and the season and life itself is prolonged.
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau July 17
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 © 2009-2022
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