Grapes for some time have perfumed the house.

September 8. 

6 A. M. —On river. 

September 8 2018

It flows with a full tide. When it is thus deep its current is swift, and then its surface (commonly smooth and dark) is freckled with ripples, or rather I should say that swifter currents are here and there bursting up from be low and spreading out on every side, as if the river were breaking over a thousand concealed rocks. The surface is broken and dimpled with upswelling currents. 

Red oak acorns, yet green, are abundantly cut off by the squirrels. 

The yellow-legs is nodding its head along the edge of the meadow. I hear also its creaking te te te.

Gather half my grapes, which for some time have perfumed the house. 

P. M. — To Owl Swamp. 

I perceive the dark-crimson leaves, quite crisp, of the white maple on the meadows, recently fallen. This is their first fall, i. e. of those leaves which changed long ago. They fall, then, with birches and chestnuts, etc. (lower leaves), before red maples generally begin to turn. 

It is good policy to be stirring about your affairs, for the reward of activity and energy is that if you do not accomplish the object you had professed to yourself, you do accomplish something else. So, in my botanizing or natural history walks, it commonly turns out that, going for one thing, I get another thing. 

“Though man proposeth, God disposeth all.”

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, September 8, 1858

Gather half my grapes, which for some time have perfumed the house. See September 8, 1852 (“Grapes ripe on the Assabet for some days”) and  note to September 8, 1854 ("I bring home a half-bushel of grapes to scent my chamber with..”); September 8, 1859 ("Grapes are turning purple, but are not ripe")

Red oak acorns, yet green, are abundantly cut off by the squirrels. See September 12, 1854 (“The red oak began to fall first.”)

It is good policy to be stirring about your affairs. See April 29, 1852 ("The art of life, not having anything to do, is to do something.”); September 13, 1852 ("To the . . . idle man, the stillness of a placid September day sounds like the din and whirl of a factory. Only employment can still this din in the air.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, To effect the quality of the day

In my botanizing or natural history walks, it commonly turns out that, going for one thing, I get another thing. See  March 18, 1858 ("Going by the epigaea on Fair Haven Hill, I thought I would follow down the shallow gully through the woods from it, that I might find more or something else.");  April 13, 1860 ("At first I had felt disinclined to make this excursion up the Assabet, but it distinctly occurred to me that, perhaps, if I came against my will, as it were, to look at the sweet-gale as a matter of business, I might discover something else interesting.”); compare September 2, 1856; (" I make my most interesting botanical discoveries when I am in a thrilled and expectant mood.”);  November 18 1851 ("A man can hardly be said to be there if he knows that he is there, or to go there if he knows where he is going. The man who is bent upon his work is frequently in the best attitude to observe what is irrelevant to his work."); April 12, 1854 ("I observe that it is when I have been intently, and it may be laboriously, at work . . . that the muse visits me, and I see or hear beauty. It is from out the shadow of my toil that I look into the light.")

  

Looking for tortoises, see the first water-bugs out circling.

March 10

Snowed in the night, a mere whitening. In the morning somewhat overcast still, cold and quite windy. The first clear snow to whiten the ground since February 9th. 

I am not aware of growth in any plant yet, unless it be the further peeping out of willow catkins. They have crept out further from under their scales, and, looking closely into them, I detect a little redness along the twigs even now. 

You are always surprised by the sight of the first spring bird or insect; they seem premature, and there is no such evidence of spring as themselves, so that they literally fetch the year about. It is thus when I hear the first robin or bluebird or, looking along the brooks, see the first water-bugs out circling. But you think, They have come, and Nature cannot recede. 

Thus, when on the 6th I saw the gyrinus at Second Division Brook, I saw no peculiarity in the water or the air to remind me of them, but to-day they are here and yesterday they were not. 

I go looking deeper for tortoises, when suddenly my eye rests on these black circling apple seeds in some smoother bay. 

Those reddening leaves, as the checkerberry, lambkill, etc., etc., which at the beginning of winter were greenish, are now a deeper red, when the snow goes off. 

No more snow since last night, but a strong, cold northerly wind all day, with occasional gleams of sunshine. 

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, March 10, 1855

Surprised by the sight of the first spring bird or insect; . . .But you think, They have come, and Nature cannot recede.  See March 23, 1856 ("How many springs I have had this same experience! I am encouraged, for I recognize this steady persistency and recovery of Nature as a quality of myself.”)

I go looking deeper for tortoises, when suddenly my eye rests on these black circling apple seeds in some smoother bay. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Signs of the Spring:

• the water-bug                          
• frogs and turtles stirring

To-day they are here

and yesterday they were not –

first water bugs out.

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, 

Looking for tortoises, see the first water-bugs out circling.

 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

Row to Bittern Cliff

August 22.

P. M. – Row to Bittern Cliff. 

Now when the mikania is conspicuous, the bank is past prime, - for lilies are far gone, the pontederia is past prime, willows and button- bushes begin to look the worse for the wear thus early, — the lower or older leaves of the willows are turned yellow and decaying , — and many of the meadows are shorn. Yet now is the time for the cardinal-flower. The already methinks, yellowing willows and button - bushes, the half- shorn meadows, the higher water on their edges , with wool-grass standing over it, with the notes of flitting bobolinks and red wings of this year, in rustling flocks, all tell of the fall.

***

I never find a remarkable Indian relic but I have first divined its existence, and planned the discovery of it. Frequently I have told myself distinctly what it was to be before I found it.  

Returning down the river from Bittern Cliff, I find myself inevitably exploring where the recent heavy rains have washed away the bank.

I find several pieces of Indian pottery with a rude ornament on it, not much more red than the earth itself. Looking farther, I find more fragments, which have been washed down the sandy slope in a stream.

Under a layer of shells I find in a hollowness in the ground many small pieces of bone in the soil of this bank, probably of animals the Indians ate.

In the midst of a another exposed heap of shells I find a delicate stone tool made of a soft slate-stone. Very thin and sharp on each side edge, in the middle it is is not more than an eighth of an inch thick. I suspect that this was used to open clams.

It is curious that I had expected to find as much as this, and in this very spot too, before i reached it.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, August 22, 1860

It is curious that I had expected to find as much as this, and in this very spot too, before i reached it. See February 13, 1851 (I saw to-day, half a mile off in Sudbury, a sandy spot on the top of a hill, where I prophesied that I should find traces of the Indians."); August 22, 1854 ("There is, no doubt, a particular season of the year when each place may be visited with most profit and pleasure, and it may be worth the while to consider what that season is in each case.") See also April 24, 1859 ("There is a season for everything, and we do not notice a given phenomenon except at that season,. . .. There is a time to watch the ripples on Ripple Lake, to look for arrowheads"); September 2, 1856; (" I make my most interesting botanical discoveries when I am in a thrilled and expectant mood,. . .”); February 4, 1858 (“It is a remarkable fact that, in the case of the most interesting plants which I have discovered in this vicinity, I have anticipated finding them perhaps a year before the discovery. ”);  and note to July 2, 1857 ("We find only the world we look for.")

Up the Assabet to look at the sweet-gale.

April 13

Paddling past the uppermost hemlocks I see two peculiar birds near me on the bank. They are new to me, and I guess that they are crossbills – male and female. They are very busily eating the seeds of the hemlock, whose cones are strewn on the ground. They are very fearless, allowing me to approach quite near.

While I sit in my boat close under the south bank the two hop within six feet of me, and one within four feet. Coming still nearer, as if partly from curiosity nibbling the cones all the while, the wind shakes the boat, -- and they fly off.

At first I had felt disinclined to make this excursion up the Assabet, but it distinctly occurred to me that, perhaps, if I came against my will, as it were, to look at the sweet-gale as a matter of business, I might discover something else interesting.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal,  April 13, 1860

It distinctly occurred to me that, perhaps, if I came against my will, as it were, to look at the sweet-gale as a matter of business, I might discover something else interesting. See March 18, 1858 ("Going by the epigaea on Fair Haven Hill, I thought I would follow down the shallow gully through the woods from it, that I might find more or something else. "); May 3, 1858 (" Ride to Flint's Pond to look for Uvularia perfoliata . . See no signs of the Uvularia perfoliata yet . . . see and hear a new bird to me . . . it may be the white-eyed [solitary] vireo (which I do not know") See also note to September 8, 1858 ("So, in my botanizing or natural history walks, it commonly turns out that, going for one thing, I get another thing.”)

To look at the sweet-gale.  See .April 22, 1855 ("The blossoms of the sweet-gale are now on fire over the brooks, contorted like caterpillars").  See also  December 31, 1859 ("To the sweet-gale meadow or swamp up Assabet. . . .The oblong-conical sterile flower-buds or catkins of the sweet-gale, half a dozen at the end of each black twig, dark-red, oblong-conical, spotted with black, and about half an inch long, are among the most interesting buds of the winter. ")

Crossbills – male and female. . . busily eating the seeds of the hemlock, whose cones are strewn on the ground. See March 8, 1859 ("I see, under the pitch pines on the southwest slope of the hill, the reddish bud-scales scattered on the snow . . . and, examining, I find that in a great many cases the buds have been eaten by some creature and the scales scattered about. . .I am inclined to think that these were eaten by the red squirrel; or was it the crossbill? for this is said to visit us in the winter. Have I ever seen a squirrel eat the pine buds?")

April 13. P. M. – I go up the Assabet to look at the sweet-gale, which is apparently [?] out at Merrick's shore. It is abundantly out at Pinxter Swamp, and has been some time; so I think I may say that the very first opened April 1st (q. v.). This may be not only because the season was early and warm, but because the water was so low, — or would that be favorable?

At first I had felt disinclined to make this excursion up the Assabet, but it distinctly occurred to me that, perhaps, if I came against my will, as it were, to look at the sweet-gale as a matter [of] business, I might dis cover something else interesting, as when I discovered the sheldrake.

As I was paddling past the uppermost hemlocks I saw two peculiar and plump birds near me on the bank there which reminded me of the cow black bird and of the oriole at first. I saw at once that they were new to me, and guessed that they were crossbills, which was the case --male and female. The former was dusky-greenish (through a glass), orange, and red, the orange, etc.; on head, breast, and rump, the vent white; dark, large bill; the female more of a dusky slate color, and yellow instead of orange and red. They were very busily eating the seeds of the hemlock, whose cones were strewn on the ground, and they were very fearless, allowing me to approach quite near.

When I returned this way I looked for them again, and at the larger hemlocks heard a peculiar note, cheep, cheep, cheep, cheep, in the rhythm of a fish hawk but faster and rather loud, and looking up saw them fly to the north side and alight on the top of a swamp white oak, while I sat in my boat close under the south bank. But immediately they recrossed and went to feeding on the bank within a rod of me. They were very parrot like both in color (especially the male, greenish and orange, etc.) and in their manner of feeding, — holding the hemlock cones in one claw and rapidly extracting the seeds with their bills, thus trying one cone after another very fast. But they kept their bills a-going [so] that, near as they were, I did not distinguish the cross. I should have looked at them in profile.

At last the two hopped within six feet of me, and one within four feet, and they were coming still nearer, as if partly from curiosity, though nibbling the cones all the while, when my chain fell down and rattled loudly, — for the wind shook the boat,-and they flew off a rod.

In Bechstein I read that "it frequents fir and pine woods, but only when there are abundance of the cones.” It may be that the abundance of white pine cones last fall had to do with their coming here. The hemlock cones were very abundant too, methinks .

Sweet serendipity

The word serendipity was coined by Horace Walpole on reading a “silly fairy tale, called The Three Princes of Serendip: as their highnesses traveled, they were always making discoveries, by accidents and sagacity, of things which they were not in quest of...."

I learned this word origin because this week Jane and Phineas were talking about ordering the Miracle Berry on the internet. When chewed, this purportedly causes sour substances to taste sweet. That’s the commercial name; she didn’t know the real name.

Later in the week Jane at graduation got talking with one of the seniors about his camera, a very nice Nikon like hers, and she asked him whether he had a tripod. He didn’t but he wanted one when he could afford it.

Coming home that evening Jane stopped to poke around a pile of stuff at the bottom of our hill marked, “free.” There was a perfectly good tripod just right for his camera!

It was “Kismet” she said when she told me the story, and I said, “Serendipitous!”

I had never heard of kismet. After the boys left the dinner table I asked, “What does kismet mean” and, first downloading a dictionary, tried to look it up on my iPod. Jane got a real dictionary and looked up kismet, meaning “fate.” Serendipity was a better fit: “finding something fortunate that one does not seek.”

Still downloading, I asked, “Where does serendipity come from?”  Searching for this word, Jane found instead the entry for serendipity berry: a berry, “when chewed, that causes sour substances to taste sweet.”

Tahatowan’s Scarab.

Henry and John Thoreau stopped on the banks of the Concord River on a Sunday evening in October 1837. Henry began to point out imagined Indian scenes. “Here,” he said, “stood Tahatowan”, and "there" (pointing to a spot) “is Tahatowan’s arrowhead.” Henry unconsciously picked up the first stone that came to hand and gave it to John. It was “a most perfect arrow-head, as sharp as if just from the hands of the Indian fabricator.”

One hundred years later, Carl Jung listened to a patient’s account of her dream about a golden scarab. There was a sound behind him. He reached back and caught a flying insect that had been tapping on the window. Jung handed the insect to his patient with the words, “Here is your golden scarab.” It was a gold-green scarabaeid beetle. This moment was the breakthrough in the therapy.

H.D. Thoreau, Journal, Oct. 29, 1837; Carl G. Jung, “Synchronicity, An Acausal Connecting Principle,” The Collected Works of Carl Jung, Volume 8, p. 843.

Here stood Tahatowan. See February 15, 1857 ("Shattuck says that the principal sachem of our Indians, Tahattawan, lived 'near Nahshawtuck hill.'")

Two Haiku

Melting snows seek the sea,
spawning fish flow upstream.
Spring mystery solved!


Awakened by a 
cold wind tugging the covers:
your happiness in my heart!


Zphx


See April 14. On the Cliffs. - It is now perfectly calm. The different parts of Fair Haven Pond -- the pond, the meadow beyond the button-bush and willow curve, the island, and the meadow between the island and mainland with its own defining lines -- are all parted off like the parts of a mirror. A fish hawk calmly sails over all, looking for his prey. So perfectly calm and beautiful, and yet no man looking at it this morning but myself:

Streams break up;

ice goes to the sea.

Now sails the fish hawk,

looking for his prey.

Journal, April 14, 1852