I feel as if I could go to sleep under a hedge – shepherd's purse flowering

April 26. 

April 26, 2012

Chickweed (Stellaria media), naturalized, shows its humble star-like white flowers now on rather dirty weather-worn branches in low, damp gardens.

Also the smaller white flowers of the shepherd's-purse, which is already six or eight inches high, in the same places, i. e. Cheney's garden. Both, according to Dewey, introduced and naturalized.

What they call April weather, threatening rain notwithstanding the late long-continued rains.

P. M. — Rambled amid the shrub oak hills beyond Hayden's.

Lay on the dead grass in a cup-like hollow sprinkled with half-dead low shrub oaks. As I lie flat, looking close in among the roots of the grass, I perceive that its endless ribbon has pushed up about one inch and is green to that extent, — such is the length to which the spring has gone here, — though when you stand up the green is not perceptible.

It is a dull, rain dropping and threatening afternoon, inclining to drowsiness. I feel as if I could go to sleep under a hedge. The landscape wears a subdued tone, quite soothing to the feelings; no glaring colors.

I begin now to leave off my greatcoat.

The frogs at a distance are now so numerous that, instead of the distinct shrill peeps, it is one dreamy sound. It is not easy to tell where or how far off they are. When you have reached their pool, they seem to recede as you advance. As you squat by the side of the pool, you still see no motion in the water, though your ears ring with the sound, seemingly and probably within three feet.

I sat for ten minutes on the watch, waving my hand over the water that they might betray themselves, a tortoise, with his head out, a few feet off, watching me all the while, till at last I caught sight of a frog under a leaf, and caught and pocketed him; but when I looked afterward, he had escaped.

The moment the dog stepped into the water they stopped. They are very shy. Hundreds filled the air with their shrill peep. Yet two or three could be distinguished by some peculiarity or variation in their note. Are these different?

The Viola ovata budded.

Saw pollywogs two or three inches long.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, April 26, 1852

Chickweed shows its humble star-like white flowers. Also the smaller white flowers of the shepherd's-purse. See March 5, 1860 ("Chickweed and shepherd's-purse in bloom in C.'s garden");  April 13, 1858  ("Shepherd's-purse already going to seed; in bloom there some time. Also chickweed; how long? "); April 25, 1855 ("Shepherd’s-purse will bloom to-day") See also Basho:

When I looked under the hedge –

the little grass called shepherd's purse

was flowering.

I begin now to leave off my greatcoat. See April 26, 1854 ("It is now so warm that I go back to leave my greatcoat for the first time, and the cooler smell of possible rain is refreshing")

I sat for ten minutes on the watch, till at last I caught sight of a frog under a leaf, and caught and pocketed him. See March 27, 1853 (Stood perfectly still amid the bushes on the shore, before one showed himself; finally five or six, and all eyed me, gradually approached me within three feet to reconnoitre, and, though I waited about half an hour, would not utter a sound.")

The moment the dog stepped into the water they stopped. They are very shy. March 27, 1853 ("Tried to see the faint-croaking frogs at J. P. Brown's Pond in the woods. They are remarkably timid and shy; had their noses and eyes out, croaking, but all ceased, dove, and concealed themselves, before I got within a rod of the shore.")

Half an hour standing perfectly still to hear the frogs croak.

March 27.

Tried to see the faint-croaking frogs at J. P. Brown's Pond in the woods. They are remarkably timid and shy; had their noses and eyes out, croaking, but all ceased, dove, and concealed themselves, before I got within a rod of the shore. Stood perfectly still amid the bushes on the shore, before one showed himself; finally five or six, and all eyed me, gradually approached me within three feet to reconnoitre, and, though I waited about half an hour, would not utter a sound nor take their eyes off me, - were plainly affected by curiosity. 

Dark brown and some, perhaps, dark green, about two inches long; had their noses and eyes out when they croaked. If described at all, must be either young of Rana pipiens or the R. palustris.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal , March 27, 1853

March 28. My Aunt Maria asked me to read the life of Dr. Chalmers, which however I did not promise to do. Yesterday, Sunday, she was heard through the partition shouting to my Aunt Jane, who is deaf, "Think of it! He stood half an hour to-day to hear the frogs croak, and he wouldn't read the life of Chalmers."

See also April 8, 1852: "To-day I hear the croak of frogs in small pond-holes in the woods, and see dimples on the surface, which I suppose that they make, for when I approach they are silent and the dimples are no longer seen."

May 9, 1860:  “We sit by the shore of Goose Pond. … After sitting there a little while, I count noses of twenty frogs. It is a still, cloudy, thoughtful day.”

And July 17, 1854: "I watch them [white lillies] for an hour and a half."

Waiting for the tide

July 30

This waiting for the tide is a singular feature in the life by the shore.  In leaving your boat to-day you must always have reference to what you are going to do the next day. A frequent answer is, "Well, you can't start for two hours yet." It is something new to a landsman, and at first he is not disposed to wait.


H. D. Thoreau, Journal, July 30, 1851

July 30. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, July 30

Waiting for the tide –

the singular feature in

this life by the shore.

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