A Book of the Seasons: August 17

August 17.

Full of reflections,

the shallowest brook

cannot be fathomed. 

 August 17, 1851

The high blackberries

the richest berry we have

are now in their prime.

August 17, 1853

August 17, 2017

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 © 2009-2015

A Book of the Seasons: August 16

August 16.

By the leaning oak,

the deep place where the willows

make a perfect shore.

August 16, 1852

At steam-mill sand-bank

the shadow of our shadows--

one is upside down.

August 16, 1854

Know the water-plants 

not so much from the shore as 

from the water side. 

August 16, 1856

And the spearmint

so intoxicates me that

I am bewildered.

August 16, 1856

A blue heron with 

its great undulating wings

 and leisurely flight.

 August 16, 1858

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 © 2009-2015

A Book of the Seasons: August 15.

August 15.

Now a sudden gust

of wind blows from the northwest,

cooled by a storm there.

August 15, 1852

After all these rains

 the crickets chirp with a still 

more autumnal sound. 

August 15, 1853

Far in the southwest

the locomotive whistle

sounds like a bell.

August 15, 1854

An indistinct path

leading through a dense birch wood

quite out of our course.

August 15, 1854

We continue to

go out of our way till we 

are completely lost.

August 15, 1854

August 15, 2012, 8:01PM

Cnicus pumilus, pasture thistle. How many insects a single one attracts ! While you sit by it, bee after bee will visit it, and busy himself probing for honey and loading himself with pollen, regardless of your over shadowing presence. He sees its purple flower from afar, and that use there is in its color. August 15, 1851 See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Thistles

On the top of the Hill I see the goldfinch eating the seeds of the Canada thistle. I rarely approach a bed of them or other thistles nowadays but I hear the cool twitter of the goldfinch about it. August 15, 1854 See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau the Goldfinch

An orchis by the brook under the Cliffs with only three white flowers , only smaller than the fringed white; spurs half an inch long. May it be another species?  August 15, 1852 See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The White Fringed Orchis; A Book of Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Purple Fringed Orchids

 See a blue heron on the meadow. August 15, 1852 .    See a blue heron. August 15, 1860 . See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Blue Heron

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 ©  2009-2021

A Book of the Seasons: August 14.

August 14.

To float on a stream

is like embarking on a

train of thought itself.

August 14, 1854

Standing on the shore

I now see that sailing or

floating down a smooth

stream at evening

surrounded by water so

agreeable to

imagination

is like embarking on a

train of thought itself.

Silver-plated stream --

water full of reflections.

August 14, 1854

Now after sunset

the river is full of light

in the dark landscape —

a silver strip of

sky of the same color and

brightness with the sky.

August 14, 1854

Silver strip of sky--

the river is full of light

in the dark landscape.

August 14, 1854

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

out-of-doors, in its own locality."

~edited, assembled and rewritten by zphx © 2009-2017

A Book of the Seasons: August 13.

August 13.

Rowing home in haste

before a black approaching

storm from the northeast.

August 13, 1853

Cool fall-like weather.

With a pang I remember

spring and summer past.

August 13, 1854

Endless and varied

play of light and shadow on

the river bottom!

August 13, 1858

Nature always has

seed ready in the ground for

rotation of crops.

August 13, 1858

August 13, 2019

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 © 2009-2019

A Book of the Seasons: August 12.

August 12.

The wood thrush, singing,

once more invites the day to

enter his pine woods.

August 12, 1851

There are but us three,

the moon, the earth, and myself

(the moon’s reflection).

August 12, 1851

This richest wine in

a convenient cask, and so

easily kept cool!

August 12, 1853

The Bidens Beckii

yellows the side of the river

below Hubbard Path.

I bathe at Hubbard's.

The water is rather cool,

comparatively.

August 12, 1854

August 12, 2018

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 © 2009-2021

To Nagog

August 10

Middle of huckleberrying.

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

August 10. See A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau , August 10

 

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 © 2009-2021