Summer grasses.

June 21. 

June 21, 2019

Tuesday. P. M. — To Derby's pasture behind and beyond schoolhouse. 

Meadow-sweet. 

Hedge-hyssop out. 

In that little pool near the Assabet, above our bath-place there, Glyceria pallida well out in water and Carex lagopodurides just beginning. 

That grass covering dry and dryish fields and hills, with curled or convolute radical leaves, is apparently Festuca ovina, and not Danthonia as I thought it. It is now generally conspicuous. Are any of our simpler forms the F. tenella? [Vide July 2d, 1860.]

You see now the Eupatoreum purpureum pushing up in rank masses in the low grounds, and the lower part of the uppermost leaves, forming a sort of cup, is conspicuously purplish.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, June 21, 1859

Hedge-hyssop out. See August 6, 1855 ("These great meadows through which I wade have a great abundance of hedge-hyssop now in bloom in the water. ")

That grass covering dry and dryish fields and hills, with curled or convolute radical leaves. See July 10, 1860 ("The Festuca ovina is a peculiar light-colored, whitish grass.");

Are any of our simpler forms the F. tenella? July 2, 1860 ("Yesterday I detected the smallest grass that I know, apparently Festuca tenella (?), apparently out of bloom, in the dry path southwest of the yew, — only two to four inches high, like a moss.")

The Eupatoreum purpureum pushing up in rank masses. See August 6, 1856 ("Eupatorium purpureum at Stow's Pool, apparently several days")

Tracing a musquash-trail.

August 2. 

P. M. — Up Assabet. 

Landed at the Bath-Place and walked the length of Shad-bush Meadow. 

I noticed meandering down that meadow, which is now quite dry, a very broad and distinct musquash-trail, where they went and came continually when it was wet or under water in the winter or spring. These trails are often nine or ten inches wide and half a dozen deep, passing under a root and the lowest overhanging shrubs, where they glided along on their bellies underneath everything. 

I traced one such trail forty rods, till it ended in a large cabin three feet high, with blueberry bushes springing still from the top; and other similar trails led off from it on opposite sides. Near the cabin they had burrowed or worn them out nine or ten inches deep, as if this now deserted castle had been a place of great resort. 

Their skins used to be worth fifty cents apiece. 

I see there what I take to be a marsh hawk of this year, hunting by itself. It has not learned to be very shy yet, so that we repeatedly get near it. What a rich brown bird! almost, methinks, with purple reflections. 

What I have called the Panicum latifolium has now its broad leaves, striped with red, abundant under Turtle Bank, above Bath-Place.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, August 2, 1858

A distinct musquash-trail. See August 23, 1854 ("I improve the dry weather to examine the middle of Gowing's Swamp. . . . This is marked by the paths of muskrats, which also extend through the green froth of the pool. ")

Panicum latifolium has now its broad leaves, striped with red. See June 25, 1858 ("Just south the wall at Bittern Cliff, the Panicum latifolium, hardly yet, with some leaves almost an inch and a half wide.")

A marsh hawk of this year, not learned to be very shy yet, so that we repeatedly get near it. What a rich brown bird! almost, methinks, with purple reflections. See August 8, 1858. ("Saw yesterday a this year’s (?) marsh hawk, female . . .I took it to be a young bird, it came so near and looked so fresh. It is a fine rich-brown, full-breasted bird, with a long tail.”) See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau,  the Marsh Hawk (Northern Harrier)

A great devil's-needle alights on my paddle.

July 27

Lobelia cardinalis, three or four days, with similar white glands (?) on edges of leaves as in L. spicata. Why is not this noticed? 

Cornus sericea about done.

As I paddle by Dodge's Brook, 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 (?). It keeps its place within a few inches of my eyes, while I was paddle some twenty-five rods against a strong wind, clinging closely. Perhaps it chose that place for coolness this hot day. 

To-day, as yesterday, it is more comfortable to be walking or paddling at 2 and 3 p. m., when there is wind, but at five the wind goes down and it is very still and suffocating. I afterward saw other great devil's-needles, the forward part of their bodies light-blue and very stout. 

The Stellaria longifolia is out of bloom and drying up. Vide some of this date pressed. 

At Bath Place, above, many yellow lily pads are left high and dry for a long time, in the zizania hollow, a foot or more above the dry sand, yet with very firm and healthy green leaves, almost the only ones not eaten by insects now. This river is quite low. 

The yellow lilies stand up seven or eight inches above the water, and, opposite to Merriam's, the rocks show their brown backs very thick (though some are concealed), like sheep and oxen lying down and chewing the cud in a meadow. I frequently run on to one — glad when it's the smooth side — and am tilted up this way or that, or spin round as on a central pivot. They bear the red or blue paint from many a boat, and here their moss has been rubbed off. 

Ceratophyllum is now apparently in bloom commonly, with its crimson-dotted involucre. 

I am surprised to find kalmiana lilies scattered thinly all along the Assabet, a few small, commonly reddish pads in middle of river, but I see no flowers. It is their great bluish waved (some green) radical leaves which I had mistaken for those of the heart-leaf, the floating leaves being so small. These and vallisneria washed up some time. The radical leaves of the heart-leaf are very small and rather triangular. 

I see, on a rock in midstream, a peetweet within a foot of a turtle, both eying me anxiously within two rods, but not minding each other. 

Zizania  (wild rice)

Zizania scarce out some days at least.

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

A great devil's-needle alights on my paddle. See June 13, 1854 ("I float homeward over water almost perfectly smooth, my sail so idle that I count ten devil's-needles resting along it at once."); 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.") See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, the Devil's-needle

June 13. 

Floating homeward, I 

count devil's-needles at rest 

on my idle sail.

July 17.

Flying shore to shore, 

yellowish devil's-needles 

cross their Atlantic. 

July 27

A devil's-needle 

keeps its place on my paddle

against a strong wind.

July 27, 1856

I see, on a rock in midstream, a peetweet within a foot of a turtle, both eying me anxiously. See June 21, 1855 ("Peetweets make quite a noise calling to their young with alarm."); July 2, 1853 ("The peetweets are quite noisy about the rocks in Merrick’s pasture when I approach; have eggs or young there, which they are anxious about."); July 2, 1860 ("Nowadays hear . . . by the river fields the alarm note of the peetweets, concerned about their young."); July 6, 1856 ("The distressed or anxious peet of a peetweet. . . hovering over its young, half grown.") [Thoreau's Peetweet is the Spotted Sandpiper  (Actitis macularia)]

Zizania scarce out some days at least. See July 22, 1854 ("Zizania, a day, with a handsome light-green panicle a foot or more long, a long slender stem, and corn-like leaves frequently more than an inch wide"); July 24, 1853 ("The zizania, some days."); August 12, 1860 ("Zizania several days"); August 14, 1859 ("The zizania now makes quite a show along the river."); August 15, 1858 ("Wild [rice], apparently in prime. This is quite interesting and handsome, so tall and loose. The lower, spreading and loosely drooping, dangling or blown one side like a flag, staminate branches of its ample panicle are of a lively yellowish green, contrasting with the very distant upright pistillate branches, suggesting a spear with a small flag at the base of its head. It is our wild grain, unharvested.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Zizania (wild rice)

July 27. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, July 27

Peetweet and turtle

eyeing me anxiously – not 

minding each other.

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, A great devil's-needle alights on my paddle

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 ©  2009-2026

https://tinyurl.com/hdt-560727

A walk along the side of the river.

December 20

Still no snow, and, as usual, I wear no gloves. 

P. M. — To Hubbard’s skating meadow. 

A few chickadees busily inspecting the buds at the willow-row ivy tree, for insects, with a short, clear chink from time to time, as if to warn me of their neighborhood. 

Boys are now devoted to skating after school at night, far into evening, going without their suppers. It is pretty good on the meadows, which are somewhat overflown, and the sides of the river, but the greater part of it is open. 

I walk along the side of the river, on the ice beyond the Bath Place. Already there is dust on this smooth ice, on its countless facets, revealed by the sun. 

How warm the dull-red cranberry vine rises above the ice here and there! 

I stamp and shake the ice to detect the holes and weak places where that little brook comes in there. They are plainly revealed, for the water beneath, being agitated, proclaims itself at every hole far and wide or for three or four rods. The edge of the ice toward the channel is either rubbed up or edged with a ridge of frozen foam. 

I see some gossamer on the weeds above the ice. Also, in now hard, dark ice, the tracks apparently of a fox, made when it was saturated snow. So long his trail is revealed, but over the pastures no hound can now trace him. 

There has been much overflow about every tussock in the meadow, making that rough, opaque ice, like yeast. The ice is that portion of the flood which is congealed and laid up in our fields for a season.

I mark the many preparations for another year which the farmer has made, — his late plowings, his muck-heaps in fields, perhaps of grass, which he intends to plow and cultivate, his ditches to carry off the winter’s floods, etc. 

December 20, 2025

How placid, like silver or like steel in different lights, the surface of the still, living water between these borders of ice, reflecting the weeds and trees, and now the warm colors of the sunset sky! 

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, December 20, 1855

Boys are now devoted to skating after school at night, far into evening. . . It is pretty good on the meadows, which are somewhat overflown, and the sides of the river, but the greater part of it is open. See December 20, 1854 ("The river appears to be frozen everywhere. Where was water last night is a firm bridge of ice this morning. . . . All of the river that was not frozen before, and therefore not covered with snow on the 18th, is now frozen quite smoothly. ") See also  November 28, 1853 ("Boys skating in Cambridgeport, — the first ice to bear "); December 6, 1854 ("I see thick ice and boys skating all the way to Providence, but know not when it froze, I have been so busy writing my lecture."); December 14. 1851 ("The boys have been skating for a week, but I. . . I have hardly realized that there was ice, though I have walked over it about this business."); December 15, 1855 ("The boys have skated a little within two or three days, but it has not been thick enough to bear a man yet."); December 18, 1852 ("Loring's Pond beautifully frozen . . . I slid over it with a little misgiving, mistaking the ice before me for water. This is the first skating."); December 19, 1854 ("Skated a half-mile up Assabet and then to foot of Fair Haven Hill. This is the first tolerable skating.”);  and A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, First Ice

Also, in now hard, dark ice, the tracks apparently of a fox, made when it was saturated snow. See December 8, 1854 ("Go over the fields on the crust to Walden . . . Already foxes have left their tracks. How the crust shines afar, the sun now setting! "); December 12, 1855 ("The snow having come, [and] now first, as it were, we have the fox for our nightly neighbor."); December 13, 1859 ("I see that the fox too has already taken the same walk before me, just along the edge of the button-bushes, where not even he can go in the summer. We both turn our steps hither at the same time.") See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Fox

The still, living water between these borders of ice, reflecting the weeds and trees, and now the warm colors of the sunset sky! See December 14, 1854 ("The river is open almost its whole length. It is a beautifully smooth mirror within an icy frame . . .  reflecting the weeds and trees

and houses and clouds.")

A few chickadees 

busily inspecting buds 

at the ivy tree.

How warm the dull-red

cranberry vines rise above

the ice here and there!

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, A walk along the side of the river.

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 © 2009-2025

https://tinyurl.com/hdt-551220