Bobolinks are heard

July 15

P. M. — To Hubbard's Close and Walden. 

Carrots by railroad, how long? 

I notice the froth concealing a grub, not only on trees and bushes, but on Potentilla Norvegica, Lechea (great-fruited), etc., etc., Pycnanthemum muticum, even Lobelia inflata, red clover, Aster puniceus. This spots my clothes when going through bushes. 

Both small hypericums, Canadense and mutilum, apparently some days at least by Stow's ditch.

Bobolinks are heard — their link, link — above and amid the tall rue which now whitens the meadows.

Checkerberry, a day or two. 

Spiranthes gracilis well out, in dry, slender grass by roadside. 

I do not notice the krigia out in my afternoon walks, and so it is not known by many, but in the morning its disk is very commonly seen. 

When I crossed the entrance to the pond meadow on a stick, a pout ran ashore and was lodged so that I caught it in the grass, apparently frightened. While I held it, I noticed another, very large one approach the shore very boldly within a few feet of me. Going in to bathe, I caught a pout on the bottom within a couple of rods of the shore. It seemed sick. Then, wading into the shallow entrance of the meadow, I saw a school of a thousand little pouts about three quarters of an inch long without any attending pout, and now have no doubt that the pout I had caught (but let go again) was tending them, and the large one was the father, apparently further off. The mother had perhaps gone into deep water to recruit after her air-bath. The young were pretty shy; kept in shallow water, and were taking pretty good care of themselves. If the water should suddenly fall, they might be caught in the meadow. 

Ludwigia alternifolia not quite; in a day or two. 

Amid the high grass or rushes by that meadow-side started a water adder. It was about three feet long, but large round in proportion, with about one hundred and forty abdominal plates and a long, slender tail. It was black above, with indistinct transverse brown bands. Under its head white; first half of belly white, with triangular of conical dark brown red marks on sides; the white gradually becomes more narrow and yellowish for the latter half of the abdomen, bordered by more numerous and still darker reddish marks, becoming confluent and alternating with silvery ones, giving a handsome regularly mottled or spotted look. Silvery across the belly. The barred part dark-reddish. Under the tail no reddish.

Corylus rostrata differs from  common in the twig being smooth and not glandular-hairy. 

Scutellaria galericulata, some time. Polygonum sagittatum, almost. 

That green sponge plant gathered yesterday is remarkably slow to dry; though it has been many hours exposed to the sun and wiped with many papers and has been a whole day exposed to the air, it is far from dry yet. It is more pungent and strong-scented than ever and sickens me to stay in the room with a little of it.

H. D  Thoreau, Journal, July 15, 1856

Both small hypericums, Canadense and mutilum, apparently some days. See  July 26, 1856  ("Arranged the hypericums in bottles this morning and watched their opening.");   August 19, 1856 ("I see Hypericum Canadense and mutilum abundantly open at 3 p. M. Apparently they did not bear the dry, hot weather of July so well. They are apparently now in prime."); August 27, 1856  (" Hypericum Canadense and mutilum now pretty generally open at 4 P.M., thus late in the season, it being more moist and cooler."); See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, St. Johns-wort (Hypericum)

Bobolinks are heard — their link, link — above and amid the tall rue which now whitens the meadows. See July 15, 1854 ("The goldfinch twitters over oftener, and I hear the link link of the bobolink, and the crickets creak more as in the fall. All these sounds dispose our minds to serenity. We seem to be passing, or to have passed, a dividing line between spring and autumn."); July 16, 1852 ("I hear the link link, fall-like note of the bobolink (?) in the meadows; he has lost the bobo off. Is it the goldfinch that goes twittering over, but which I cannot see?"); See also  July 12 1856 ("Rue is beginning now to whiten the meadows on all hands."); July 17, 1852 ("The meadows on the Turnpike are white with the meadow-rue now more than ever.") and A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, the Bobolink

"Checkerberry," a day or two: American wintergreen (Gaultheria procumbent). See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Checkerberry

A  water adder about three feet long, but large round in proportion, with about one hundred and forty abdominal plates and a long, slender tail. See July 23, 1856 ("The water adder killed on the 15th and left hanging on a twig. . . is already mere skin and skeleton, ") and note to April 26, 1857 ("I have the same objection to killing a snake that I have to the killing of any other animal, yet the most humane man that I know never omits to kill one.")

July 15. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau July 15

Bobolinks link link

amid the tall rue that now

whitens the meadow.

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Bobolinks are heard 

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-560715

Red lady’s-slippers over the red pine leaves on the forest floor,

June 5 

Thursday. P. M. — To Indian Ditch. 

Achillea Millefolium. Black cherry, apparently yesterday. 

The Muscicapa Cooperi sings pe pe pe’, sitting on the top of a pine, and shows white rump (?), etc., unlike kingbird. 

Return by J. Hosmer Desert. 

Everywhere now in dry pitch pine woods stand the red lady’s-slippers over the red pine leaves on the forest floor, rejoicing in June, with their two broad curving green leaves, —some even in swamps. Uphold their rich, striped red, drooping sack. 

This while rye begins to wave richly in the fields. 

A brown thrasher’s nest with four eggs considerably developed, under a small white pine on the old north edge of the desert, lined with root-fibres. The bird utters its peculiar tchuck near by. 

Pitch pine out, the first noticed on low land, maybe a day or two. Froth on pitch pine. 

A blue jay’s nest on a white pine, eight feet from ground, next to the stem, of twigs lined with root-fibres; three fresh eggs, dark dull greenish, with dusky spots equally distributed all over, in Hosmer (?) pines twenty seven paces east of wall and fifty-seven from factory road by wall. Jay screams as usual. Sat till I got within ten feet at first.

A cuckoo’s nest with three light bluish-green eggs partly developed, short with rounded ends, nearly of a size; in the thicket up railroad this side high wood, in a black cherry that had been lopped three feet from ground, amid the thick sprouts; a nest of nearly average depth (?), of twigs lined with green leaves, pine needles, etc., and edged with some dry, branchy weeds. The bird stole off silently at first. Five rods south of railroad. 

I must call that cerastium of May 22d C. nutans (?), at least for the present, though I do not see grooves in stem. Oakes, in his catalogue in Thompson’s “History of Vermont,” says it is not found in New England out of that State. The pods of the common one also turn upward. It is about four flowered; no petals; pods, which have formed in tumbler, more than twice but not thrice as long as calyx, bent down nearly at right angles with peduncles and then curving upward. The common cerastium is in tufts, spreading, a darker green and much larger, hairy but not glutinous, pods but little longer than calyx (as yet) and upright.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, June 5, 1856

The Muscicapa Cooperi sings pe pe pe’, sitting on the top of a pine. See May 15, 1855 ("I hear from the top of a pitch pine in the swamp that loud, clear, familiar whistle . . . I saw it dart out once, catch an insect, and return to its perch muscicapa-like. As near as I could see it had a white throat .”). See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, the Olive-sided flycatcher or pe-pe

Everywhere now in dry pitch pine woods stand the red lady’s-slippers. See  June 5, 1850 ("When the lady’s-slipper and the wild pink have come out in sunny places on the hillsides, then the summer is begun according to the clock of the seasons.") See also note to May 30, 1856 (“The lady’s-slipper in pitch pine wood-side near J. Hosmer’s Desert, probably about the 27th.”) and A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Lady Slipper

Froth on pitch pine. See June 4, 1854 ("I now notice froth on the pitch and white pines.”); June 15, 1851("A white froth drips from the pitch pines, just at the base of the new shoots. It has no taste.”)

A blue jay’s nest on a white pine, See June 8, 1855 ("A jay’s nest with three young half fledged in a white pine, six feet high. . . made of coarse sticks.”); June 10, 1859 ("A blue jay's nest about four feet up a birch, quite exposed beneath the leafy branches. “) 

I must call that cerastium of May 22d C. nutans See  May 6, 1856 ("Cerastium out there under the bank"); May 22, 1856 ("A little clammy hairy cerastium (?) (like a Cerastium viscosum, slender and erect), about three inches high, will open in a day or two on the rock near the bass."); May 31, 1856 ("That little cerastium on the rock at the Island, noticed the 22d . . . seems to be the C. nutans (?), from size, erectness, and form of pods and leaves.”) 

A brown thrasher’s nest with four eggs considerably developed, under a small white pine See June 6, 1857 ("A brown thrasher's nest, with two eggs, on ground, near lower lentago wall and toward Bittern Cliff. ")  See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Brown Thrasher

Red lady’s-slippers, 

with two broad curving green leaves,

rejoicing in June.

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Red lady’s-slippers

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-560605

Now is the time to observe the leaves

June 4.

Now is the time to observe the leaves, so fair in color and so perfect in form. I stand over a sprig of choke-cherry, with fair and perfect glossy green obovate and serrate leaves, in the woods this p.m., as if it were a rare flower.  Now various forms of oak leaves in sprout-lands, wet-glossy, as if newly painted green and varnished, attract me. 

June 4 2022

In the washing breeze the lighter undersides begin to show, and a new light is flashed upon the year, lighting up and enlivening the landscape.

The surface of the still water nowadays looking like dust at a little distance. Is it the down of the leaves blown off? I distinguish the different surfaces, — here broken into waves and sparkling with light, there, where covered with this linty dust or film, merely undulating without breaking, and there quite smooth and stagnant. I see in one place a sharp and distinct line, as if there were a cobweb on the water, between the clear and ruffled water and the stagnant filmy part, as if it were a slightly raised seam. 

These warm and dry days, which put spring far behind, the sound of the cricket at noon has a new value and significance, so serene and cool. It is the iced-cream of song. It is modulated shade.

I now notice froth on the pitch and white pines.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, June 4, 1854

Now is the time to observe the leaves, so fair in color and so perfect in form. See June 4, 1855 (“and now the crimson velvety leafets of the black oak, showing also a crimson edge on the downy under sides, are beautiful as a flower”); May 17, 1852 ("These young leaves have the beauty of flowers. “);May 17, 1853 (" Now is the time to admire the very young and tender leaves. ") See also June 4, 1860 ("You may say that now, the leafy season has fairly commenced.")

Now various forms of oak leaves in sprout-lands, wet-glossy, as if newly painted green and varnished, attract me. See June 4, 1855 ("And now the crimson velvety leafets of the black oak, showing also a crimson edge on the downy under sides, are beautiful as a flower, and the more salmon white oak. ")

The surface of the still water nowadays looking like dust at a little distance. Is it the down of the leaves blown off? See June 4, 1855 ("Lint comes off on to clothes from the tender leaves, but it is clean dirt and all gone when you get home "); June 4, 1857 ("Each under side of a leaf you strike leaves the mark of its lint on your clothes, but it is clean dirt and soon wears off."); June 6, 1855 (“You see . . . a dust-like tint on river, apparently from the young leaves and bud-scales, covering the waters, which begin to be smooth, and imparting a sense of depth.”. See also note to June 4, 1857 (“It is an agreeable phenomenon to me, as connected with the season and suggesting warm weather. I suppose it to be the down from the new leaves which so rapidly become smooth. . . . where the water slowly circles round in that great eddy, has the appearance of having been dusted over.”)

The sound of the cricket at noon has a new value and significance, so serene and cool. See June 4, 1857 ("One thing that chiefly distinguishes this season from three weeks ago is that fine serene undertone or earth-song . . . the creak of crickets, which affects our thoughts so favorably, imparting its own serenity.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Cricket in Spring

June 4. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, June 4

Now is the time to

observe the leaves so perfect

in color and form. 

In the washing breeze

the undersides of leaves flash

new light on the year.

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Now is the time to observe the leaves

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 © 2009-2024

https://tinyurl.com/hdt-540604

Mid-day; mid-June

June 15

June 15. 

See the first wild rose to-day on the west side of the railroad causeway. 

The whiteweed has suddenly appeared, and the clover gives whole fields a rich appearance, -- the rich red and the sweet-scented white. The fields are blushing with the red species as the western sky at evening.

The blue-eyed grass, well named, looks up to heaven. 

And the yarrow, with its persistent dry stalks and heads, is now ready to blossom again. 

The dry stems and heads of last year's tansy stand high above the new green leaves.

I sit in the shade of the pines to hear a wood thrush at noon. The ground smells of dry leaves ; the heat is oppressive. The bird begins on a low strain, i. e. it first delivers a strain on a lower key, then a moment after another a little higher, then another still varied from the others, — no two successive strains alike, but either ascending or descending. He confines himself to his few notes, in which he is unrivalled, as if his kind had learned this and no more anciently.

The hickory leaves are blackened by a recent frost.  A white froth drips from the pitch pines, just at the base of the new shoots. It has no taste.

The pollywogs in the pond are now fulltailed. A solitary woodcock in the shade goes off with a startled, rattling, hurried note.

I perceive , as formerly , a white froth dripping from the pitch pines , just at the base of the new shoots . It has no taste . The pollywogs in the pond are now full tailed . The hickory leaves are blackened by a recent frost , which reminds me that this is near their northern limit . 

It is remarkable the rapidity with which the grass grows . The 25th of May I walked to the hills in Way land , and when I returned across lots do not remember that I had much occasion to think of the grass , or to go round any fields to avoid treading on it ; but just a week afterward , at Worcester , it was high and waving in the fields , and I was to some extent confined to the road ; and the same was the case here . Apparently in one month you get from fields which you can cross without hesitation , to haying time . It has grown you hardly know when , be the weather what it may , sun shine or storm . I start up a solitary woodcock in the shade , in some copse ; goes off with a startled , rattling , . hurried note . After walking by night several times I now walk by day , but I am not aware of any crowning advantage in it . I see small objects better , but it does not enlighten me any . The day is more trivial . What a careful gardener Nature is ! She does not let the sun come out suddenly with all his intensity after rain and cloudy weather , but graduates the change to suit the tenderness of plants .

I see the tall crowfoot now in the meadows ( Ranunculus acris ) , with a smooth stem . I do not notice the bulbosus , which was so common a fortnight ago . The rose - colored flowers of the Kalmia angustifolia , lamb kill , just opened and opening . The Convallaria bifolia · growing stale in the woods . The Hieracium venosum , veiny - leaved hawkweed , with its yellow blossoms in the woodland path . 

The Hypoxis erecta, yellow Bethlehem-star, where there is a thick, wiry grass in open path; should be called yellow-eyed grass, methinks. 

The Pyrola asarifolia , with its pagoda - like stem of flowers , i . e . broad - leaved wintergreen . The Trientalis Americana , like last , in the woods , with its star - like white flower and pointed whorled leaves . The prunella too is in blossom , and the rather delicate Thesium umbellatum , a white flower . The Solomon ' s - seal , with a greenish drooping raceme of flowers at the top , I do not identify . 

I notice to - day the same remarkable bushy growth on the fir ( in Wheildon ' s garden ) that I have noticed on the pines and cedars . The leaves are not so thickly set and are much stiffer . 

I find that I postpone all actual intercourse with my friends to a certain real intercourse which takes place commonly when we are actually at a distance from one another.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, June 15, 1851

The blue-eyed grass, well named, looks up to heaven. See June 17. 1853 ("The dense fields of blue-eyed grass now blue the meadows, as if, in this fair season of the year, the clouds that envelop the earth were dispersing, and blue patches began to appear, answering to the blue sky. The eyes pass from these blue patches into the surrounding green as from the patches of clear sky into the clouds. ") See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, blue-eyed grass

See the first wild rose to-day. . .  See June 15, 1853 ("Here are many wild roses northeast of Trillium Woods. It is the pride of June.") June 15, 1852 ("he common, early cultivated red roses are certainly very handsome, so rich a color and so full of blossoms; you see why even blunderers have introduced them into their gardens")

The clover gives whole fields a rich appearance, -- the rich red and the sweet-scented white. . . .See June 15, 1853   ("Clover now in its prime. What more luxuriant than a clover-field?”)

A white froth drips from the pitch pines, . . . See June 5, 1856 ("Froth on pitch pine."); June 4, 1854 ("I now notice froth on the pitch and white pines.”).