Double shadow, upside down!

November 2

By boat to Clamshell. 

I suspect the clams are partly gone down. May not this movement contribute to compel the muskrats to erect their cabins nearer the brink or channel, in order still to be near their food? Other things being equal, they would have to swim further than before to get the clams in the middle, but now, in addition, the water is beginning to rise and widen the river. 

August 16, 1854

Sailing past the bank above the railroad, just before a clear sundown, close to the shore on the east side I see a second fainter shadow of the boat, sail, myself, and paddle, etc., directly above and upon the first on the bank. 

What makes the second? At length I discovered that it was the reflected sun which cast a higher shadow like the true one. As I moved to the west side, the upper shadow rose, grew larger and less perceptible; and at last when I was so near the west shore that I could not see the reflected sun, it disappeared; but then there appeared one upside down in its place!

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, November 2, 1854

Now, in addition, the water is beginning to rise and widen the river. See November 2, 1851 ("The muskrat-houses are mostly covered by the rise of the river! — not a very unexpected one either.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Musquash

A second fainter shadow of the boat, sail, myself, and paddle. See August 31, 1852 ("I observe, on the willows on the east shore, the shadow of my boat and self and oars, upside down."); October 18, 1853 ("Returning late, we see a double shadow of ourselves and boat, one, the true, quite black, the other directly above it and very faint, on the willows and high bank.") and August 16, 1854 ("At the steam mill sand-bank is the distinct shadow of our shadows, — first on the water, then the double one on the bank bottom to bottom, one being upside down, — three in all, — one on water, two on land or bushes.");  See also Walden, The Pond in Winter ("Sometimes, also, when the ice was covered with shallow puddles, I saw a double shadow of myself, one standing on the head of the other, one on the ice, the other on the trees or hill-side.")

The shadow of our shadows, two men in a boat.

August 16.

With Russell* to Fair Haven by boat.  At the steam mill sand-bank is the distinct shadow of our shadows, — first on the water, then the double one on the bank bottom to bottom, one being upside down, — three in all, — one on water, two on land or bushes.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, August 16, 1854

See Walden, The Pond in Winter ("Sometimes, also, when the ice was covered with shallow puddles, I saw a double shadow of myself, one standing on the head of the other, one on the ice, the other on the trees or hillside.”) and August 31, 1852 ("I observe, on the willows on the east shore, the shadow of my boat and self and oars, upside down”); October 18, 1853 ("Returning late, we see a double shadow of ourselves and boat, one, the true, quite black, the other directly above it and very faint, on the willows and high bank.") and November 1, 1854 ("Sailing past the bank above the railroad, just before a clear sundown, close to the shore on the east side I see a second fainter shadow of the boat, sail, myself, and paddle, etc., directly above and upon the first on the bank. What makes the second? At length I discovered that it was the reflected sun which cast a higher shadow like the true one. As I moved to the west side, the upper shadow rose, grew larger and less perceptible; and at last when I was so near the west shore that I could not see the reflected sun, it disappeared; but then there appeared one upside down in its place!")

August 16. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, August 16

* John Lewis Russell, botanist

At steam-mill sand-bank

the shadow of our shadows –

one is upside down.

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The shadow of our shadows

"A book, each page written in its own season,

out-of-doors, in its own locality.”

~edited, assembled and rewritten by zphx © 2009-2024

https://tinyurl.com/hdt-540816 

A sketch of autumn

October 18.

With Sophia boat to Fair Haven, where she makes a sketch. 

The red maples have been bare a good while. In the sun and this clear air, their bare ashy branches even sparkle like silver. The woods are losing their bright colors. The muskrat-houses are more sharpened now. I find my boat all covered — the bottom and seats — with the yellow leaves of the golden willow under which it is moored, and if I empty it, it is full again to-morrow. Some white oaks are salmon-red, some lighter and drier. The black oaks are a greenish yellow. Poplars, rich yellow.
 
Returning late, we see a double shadow of ourselves and boat, one, the true, quite black, the other directly above it and very faint, on the willows and high bank.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, October 18, 1853

The red maples have been bare a good while.  See October 18, 1855 ("The maple swamps, bare of leaves."); October 18, 1857 ("The red maples are now fairly bare,")

Double shadow of ourselves and boat ... See note to August 16, 1854 (" The distinct shadow of our shadows, — first on the water, then the double one on the bank bottom to bottom, one being upside down, — three in all, — one on water, two on land or bushes.")