Sunday, October 3, 2021

A Book of the Seasons: October 3 (the pine fall, autumnal tints, fall flowers)

 


The year is but a succession of days,
and I see that I could assign some office to each day
which, summed up, would be the history of the year.
Henry Thoreau, August 24, 1852 




A wild sound heard far,
suited to the wildest lake  – 
laughing of a loon.

Parti-colored pines –
lower yellowing needles
getting ready to fall.

These lit glowing leaves
by the dry stony shore of
this cool and deep well.

On the southwest side
black birches clear pale yellow–
maples of all tints. 

 Along the river
the red maples which changed first
now partly fallen.  

Cooler, autumnal - 
you incline to sit in a 
sunny, sheltered place.

See sparrows in flocks 
and have heard more flitting by 
since the frosts began. 
October 3, 1860
,

October 3, 2020

The pine fall, i.e. change, is commenced, and the trees are mottled green and yellowish. October 3, 1852

The white pines are now getting to be pretty generally parti-colored, the lower yellowing needles ready to fall. October 3, 1856

White pines fairly begin to change. October 3, 1858

The Rhus radicans also turns yellow and red or scarlet, like the Toxicodendron. October 3, 1857

The sumachs are generally crimson (darker than scarlet), and young trees and bushes by the water and meadows are generally beginning to glow red and yellow. October 3, 1856

The red maples which changed first, along the river, are now faded and partly fallen. They look more pink. But others are lit, and so there is more color than before. Some particular maple among a hundred will be of a peculiarly bright and pure scarlet, and, by its difference of tint and intenser color, attract our eyes even at a distance in the midst of the crowd. October 3, 1858

The maples about Walden are quite handsome now . . . About the pond I see maples of all their tints, and black birches (on the southwest side) clear pale yellow; and on the peak young chestnut clumps and walnuts are considerably yellowed. October 3, 1858

Especially the hillsides about Walden begin to wear these autumnal tints in the cooler air. These lit leaves, this glowing, bright-tinted shrubbery, is in singular harmony with the dry, stony shore of this cool and deep well. October 3, 1856

Looking all around Fair Haven Pond yesterday, where the maples were glowing amid the evergreens, my eyes invariably rested on a particular small maple of the purest and intensest scarlet. October 3, 1858

I see the ground strewn with Populus grandidentata leaves in one place on the old Carlisle road, where one third are fallen. These yellow leaves are all thickly brown-spotted and are very handsome. . .— they cover the still green sward by the roadside and the gray road thick as a pavement, each one worthy to be admired as a gem or work of Oriental art. October 3, 1859

The hard frost of September 28th, 29th, and 30th, and especially of October 1st, has suddenly killed, crisped, and caused to fall a great many leaves of ash, hickory, etc., etc. October 3, 1860

A great many leaves have fallen and the trees begin to look thin. You incline to sit in a sunny and sheltered place. This season, the fall which the have now entered on, commenced, I may say, as long ago as when the first frost was seen and felt in low ground in August. From that time, even, the year has been gradually winding up its accounts. October 3, 1859

Have noticed a very brilliant scarlet blackberry patch within a week. October 3, 1858

Many acorns strew the ground, and have fallen into the water. October 3, 1852

See Vanessa Antiopa. October 3, 1860

Hear the loud laughing of a loon on Flint's, apparently alone in the middle. A wild sound, heard far and suited to the wildest lake. October 3, 1852

Bay-wings about. October 3, 1860

I see on a wall a myrtle-bird in its October dress, looking very much like a small sparrow. October 3, 1859

I have seen and heard sparrows in flocks, more as if flitting by, within a week, or since the frosts began. October 3, 1860

Asters, and still more goldenrods, look quite rare now. October 3, 1857

The Aster undulates is common and fresh, also the Solidago nemoralis of Gray. October 3, 1852

Viola lanceolata in Moore's Swamp. October 3, 1853

A fringed gentian, plucked day before yesterday, at length, this forenoon, untwists and turns its petals partially, in my chamber. October 3, 1858



*****
October 3, 2020

*****


*****

October 3, 2025

September 12, 1854 ("White oak acorns have many of them fallen. . . .. Some black scrub oak acorns have fallen, and a few black oak acorns also have fallen. The red oak began to fall first.")  
September 17, 1858 (“Methinks, too, that there are more sparrows in flocks now about in garden”)
September 19, 1852 ("The Viola lanceolata has blossomed again, and the lambkill.");
September 20, 1852 ("The Viola sagittata has blossomed again.")
September 20, 1852 ("Aster undulatus, or variable aster, with a large head of middle-sized blue flowers.");
September 23, 1851 ("I scare up large flocks of sparrows in the garden.");
September 23, 1854 ("Low blackberry vines generally red. ")
September 25, 1854 ("I am detained by the very bright red blackberry leaves strewn along the sod")
September 25, 1857 (“A single tree becomes the crowning beauty of some meadowy vale and attracts the attention of the traveller from afar.”);
September 26, 1854 ("Some single red maples are very splendid now, the whole tree bright-scarlet against the cold green pines; now, when very few trees are changed, a most remarkable object in the landscape; seen a mile off. ")
September 26, 1858 (“Now is the time, too, when flocks of sparrows begin to scour over the weedy fields,”)
September 27, 1855 ("Some single red maples now fairly make a show along the meadow. I see a blaze of red reflected from the troubled water.")
September 27, 1857 (“At last, its labors for the year being consummated and every leaf ripened to its full, it flashes out conspicuous to the eye of the most casual observer, with all the virtue and beauty of a maple, – Acer rubrum.”)
September 27, 1858 ("What are those little birds in flocks in the garden and on the peach trees these mornings, about size of chip-birds, without distinct chestnut crowns?”)
September 28, 1852 (" I find the hood-leaved violet quite abundant in a meadow, and the pedata in the Boulder Field. I have now seen all but the blanda, palmata, and pubescens blooming again .. . This is the commencement, then, of the second spring")
September 28, 1853 ("Viola cucullata")
September 30, 1857 (“Rhus Toxicodendron turned yellow and red, handsomely dotted with brown.”)
September 30, 1854 ("Acorns are generally now turned brown and fallen or falling; the ground is strewn with them and in paths they are crushed by feet and wheels.");
October 1, 1859 ("The shrub oaks on this hill are now at their height, both with respect to their tints and their fruit . . . Now is the time for shrub oak acorns if not for others.");
October 1, 1860.(“C. saw the first Vanessa Antiopa since spring.”)
October 1, 1860 ("Remarkable frost and ice this morning . . . I do not remember such cold at this season.")
October 1, 1858 ("Viola lanceolata again.")
October 1, 1858 ("The fringed gentians are now in prime . . .They who see them closed, or in the afternoon only, do not suspect their beauty.")
October 1, 1852 ("The young and tender trees begin to assume the autumnal tints more generally,"); October 1, 1854 ("The young black birches about Walden, next the south shore, are now commonly clear pale yellow, very distinct at distance, like bright-yellow white birches, so slender amid the dense growth of oaks and evergreens on the steep shores. ")
October 2, 1851 ("Some of the white pines on Fair Haven Hill have just reached the acme of their fall; others have almost entirely shed their leaves, and they are scattered over the ground and the walls.")
October 2, 1852 ("How much more beautiful the lakes now, like Fair Haven, surrounded by the autumn-tinted woods and hills, as in an ornamented frame!")
October 2, 1852 ("Some maples in sprout-lands are of a delicate, pure, clear, unspotted red, inclining to crimson, surpassing most flowers. I would fain pluck the whole tree and carry it home for a nosegay.")
October 2, 1853 ("The smooth sumach is but a dull red. ")
October 2, 1856 ("Solidago bicolor considerably past prime")
October 2, 1856 ("The mountain sumach now a dark scarlet quite generally. )
October 2, 1857("A great many red maples are merely yellow; more, scarlet, in some cases deepening to crimson")
October 2, 1857 ("The fringed gentian at Hubbard's Close has been out some time, and most of it already withered")
.October 2, 1853 ("The gentian in Hubbard's Close is frost-bitten extensively")
October 2, 1858 ("The garden is alive with migrating sparrows these mornings.")
October 2, 1859 ("The A. undulatus looks fairer than ever, now that flowers are more scarce.")


October 4, 1853 ("Bumblebees are on the Aster undulatus")
October 5, 1858 (“I still see large flocks, apparently of chip birds, on the weeds and ground in the yard.”)
October 5, 1853 ("The howling of the wind about the house just before a storm to-night sounds like a loon on the pond. How fit”)
October 6, 1858 (“The Aster undulatus is now very fair and interesting. Generally a tall and slender plant with a very long panicle of middle-sized lilac or paler purple flowers, bent over to one side the path.")
October 7, 1860 ("I see one small but spreading white oak full of acorns just falling and ready to fall")
October 8, 1852 (“Nothing can exceed the brilliancy of some of the maples which stand by the shore and extend their red banners over the water.”)
October 8, 1852 ("As I was paddling along the north shore, after having looked in vain over the pond for a loon, suddenly a loon, sailing toward the middle, a few rods in front, set up his wild laugh and betrayed himself")
October 9, 1858 (“Bay-wings flit along road.”)
October 10, 1853 ("There are . . . large flocks of small sparrows, which make a business of washing and pruning themselves in the puddles in the road, as if cleaning up after a long flight and the wind of yesterday.”)
October 10, 1851 ("There are many things to indicate the renewing of spring at this season")
October 10, 1859 ("White-throated sparrows in yard and close up to house, together with myrtle-birds (which fly up against side of house and alight on window-sills)");
October 11, 1856 (“Bay-wing sparrows numerous.”)
October 11, 1860 ("There is a remarkably abundant crop of white oak acorns this fall, also a fair crop of red oak acorns; but not of scarlet and black, very few of them. The acorns are now in the very midst of their fall.")
October 12, 1859 (“I see scattered flocks of bay-wings amid the weeds and on the fences.”)
October 12, 1858 ("Acorns, red and white (especially the first), appear to be fallen or falling.").
October 12, 1857 ("The fringed gentian by the brook opposite is in its prime, and also along the north edge of the Painted-Cup Meadows")
October 13, 1859 ("I see no acorns on the trees. They appear to have all fallen before this.");
October 14, 1859 ("The ground is strewn also with red oak acorns now, and, as far as I can discover, acorns of all kinds have fallen.")
October 14, 1859 ("The shrub oak acorns are now all fallen, — only one or two left on,")
October 14, 1855 ("Some sparrow-like birds with yellow on rump flitting about our wood-pile. One flies up against the house and alights on the window-sill within a foot of me inside. Black bill and feet, yellow rump, brown above, yellowish-brown on head, cream-colored chin, two white bars on wings, tail black, edged with white, — the yellow-rump warbler or myrtle-bird without doubt. ")
October 15, 1859 ("I think I see myrtle-birds on white birches, and that they are the birds I saw on them a week or two ago, — apparently, or probably, after the birch lice.")
October 16, 1855 ("How evenly the freshly fallen pine-needles are spread on the ground! quite like a carpet.")
October 16, 1857("The large poplar (P. grandidentata) is now at the height of its change, – clear yellow, but many leaves have fallen.")
October 18, 1857 ("The fringed gentian closes every night and opens every morning in my pitcher.")
October 19, 1859 ("C. says that he saw a loon at Walden the 15th.")
October 19, 1856 ("See quite a flock of myrtle-birds, — which I might carelessly have mistaken for slate-colored snowbirds, — flitting about on the rocky hillside under Conantum Cliff. They show about three white or light-colored spots when they fly, commonly no bright yellow, though some are pretty bright.")
October 21, 1857 ("I see many myrtle-birds now about the house this forenoon, on the advent of cooler weather. They keep flying up against the house and the window and fluttering there, as if they would come in, or alight on the wood-pile or pump. They would commonly be mistaken for sparrows, but show more white when they fly, beside the yellow on the rump and sides of breast seen near to and two white bars on the wings.")
October 25, 1858 ("The leaves of the Populus grandidentata, though half fallen and turned a pure and handsome yellow, are still wagging as fast as ever. These do not lose their color and wither on the tree like oaks and beeches and some of their allies,...— but they are fresh and unwilted, full of sap and fair as ever when they are first strewn on the ground. I do not think of any tree whose leaves are so fresh and fair when they fall. ")
October 25, 1858 ("The Aster undulatus is now a dark purple (its leaves), with brighter purple or crimson under sides.")
October 28, 1858 ("How handsome the great red oak acorns now! I stand under the tree on Emerson’s lot. They are still falling. I heard one fall into the water ")
November 3, 1858 ("Aster undulatus is still freshly in bloom")
November 7, 1858 ("Aster undulatus and several goldenrods, at least, may be found yet.")
November 9, 1850 (" I expect to find that it is only for a few weeks in the fall after the new leaves have done growing that there are any yellow and falling, — that there is a season when we may say the old pine leaves are now yellow, and again, they are fallen.")

October 3, 2020

If you make the least correct 
observation of nature this year,
 you will have occasion to repeat it
 with illustrations the next, 
and the season and life itself is prolonged.

October 2 <<<<<<<<<  October 3 >>>>>>>>  October 4

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 © 2009-2022





Viola lanceolata in Moore's Swamp

 



October 3.


Viola lanceolata
in Moore's Swamp.


H. D. Thoreau, Journal, October 3, 1853


Viola lanceolata in Moore's Swamp. See September 19, 1852 ("The Viola lanceolata has blossomed again, and the lambkill.");   September 20, 1852 ("The Viola sagittata has blossomed again."); September 28, 1852 (" I find the hood-leaved violet quite abundant in a meadow, and the pedata in the Boulder Field.  I have now seen all but the blanda, palmata, and pubescens blooming again .. . This is the commencement, then, of the second spring");  . September 28, 1853 ("Viola cucullata");October 1, 1858 ("Viola lanceolata again.");  October 10, 1851 ("There are many things to indicate the renewing of spring at this season");

Saturday, October 2, 2021

A Book of the Seasons: October 2 (autumn tints, the pine fall, witch hazel, fall flowers, cinnamon fern, past years)





The year is but a succession of days,
and I see that I could assign some office to each day
which, summed up, would be the history of the year.
Henry Thoreau, August 24, 1852 


At the Cliffs I find
wasps prolonging their short lives
on the sunny rocks.

The sour scent of ferns
reminds me of the season
and of the past years.

October 2, 2014

A dark and windy night the last. It is a new value when darkness amounts to something positive. Each morning now, after rain and wind, is fresher and cooler, and leaves still green reflect a brighter sheen. October 2, 1858

It is a little hazy as I look into the west to-day. October 2, 1851

A very warm day after the frosts, so that I wish — though I am afraid to wear — a thin coat. October 2, 1852

There are but few and faint autumnal tints about Walden yet. October 2, 1853

The leaves of some trees merely wither, turn brown, and drop off at this season, without any conspicuous flush of beauty, while others now first attain to the climax of their beauty. October 2, 1857

The shrub oaks on the terraced plain are now almost uniformly of a deep red. October 2, 1851

From Cliffs the shrub oak plain has now a bright-red ground, perhaps of maples. October 2, 1852

How much more beautiful the lakes now, like Fair Haven, surrounded by the autumn-tinted woods and hills, as in an ornamented frame! October 2, 1852

A great many red maples are merely yellow; more, scarlet, in some cases deepening to crimson. October 2, 1857

Some maples in sprout-lands are of a delicate, pure, clear, unspotted red, inclining to crimson, surpassing most flowers. I would fain pluck the whole tree and carry it home for a nosegay. October 2, 1852

Sitting on a rock east of Trillium Woods, I perceive that, generally speaking, it is only the edge or pediment of the woods that shows the bright autumnal tints yet (while the superstructure is green) October 2, 1857

The mountain sumach now a dark scarlet quite generally. October 2, 1856

The smooth sumach is but a dull red. October 2, 1853

This changing of the leaves — their brighter tints — must have to do with cold, for it begins in the low meadows and in frosty hollows in the woods. There is where you must look as yet for the bright tints. October 2, 1857

There is a more or less general reddening of the leaves at this season, down to the cinquefoil and mouse-ear, sorrel and strawberry under our feet. October 2, 1857

That large lechea, now so freshly green and sometimes scarlet. October 2, 1859

The second lechea radical shoots are one inch long. October 2, 1856

So many maple and pine and other leaves have now fallen that in the woods, at least, you walk over a carpet of fallen leaves. October 2, 1859

Some of the white pines on Fair Haven Hill have just reached the acme of their fall; others have almost entirely shed their leaves, and they are scattered over the ground and the walls. October 2, 1851

The same is the state of the pitch pines. October 2, 1851

The white pines have scarcely begun at all to change here, though a week ago last Wednesday they were fully changed at Bangor. There is fully a fortnight's difference, and methinks more. The witch-hazel, too, was more forward there. October 2, 1853

The gentian in Hubbard's Close is frost-bitten extensively. As the witch-hazel is raised above frost and can afford to be later, for this reason also I think it is so. October 2, 1853

The fringed gentian at Hubbard's Close has been out some time, and most of it already withered. October 2, 1857 

The erechthites down (fire-weed) is conspicuous in sprout-lands of late, since its leaves were killed. October 2, 1857

Succory still, with its cool blue, here and there, and Hieracium Canadense still quite fresh, with its very pretty broad strap-shaped rays, broadest at the end, alternately long and short, with five very regular sharp teeth in the end of each.  
 October 2, 1856 

Corydalis still fresh. October 2, 1856

The veiny-leaved hawkweed in blossom (again?). October 2, 1852

The scarlet leaves and stem of the rhexia, some time out of flower, makes almost as bright a patch in the meadow now as the flowers did, with its bristly leaves. Its seed-vessels are perfect little cream-pitchers of graceful form. October 2, 1856

The prinos berries are in their prime, seven sixteenths of an inch in diameter. They are scarlet, some what lighter than the arum berries. They are now very fresh and bright, and what adds to their effect is the perfect freshness and greenness of the leaves amid which they are seen. October 2, 1856

Gerardia purpurea still. October 2, 1856

Eupatorium purpureum
is generally done. October 2, 1856

Now and then I see a Hypericum Canadense flower still. The leaves, etc., of this and the angulosum are turned crimson. October 2, 1856

The A. undulatus looks fairer than ever, now that flowers are more scarce. October 2, 1859

The Aster undulatus and Solidago coesia and often puberula are particularly prominent now, looking late and bright, attracting bees, etc. October 2, 1859

I see the S. coesia so covered with the little fuzzy gnats as to be whitened by them. October 2, 1859

How bright the S. puberula in sprout-lands, — its yellow wand, — perhaps in the midst of a clump of little scarlet or dark-purple black oaks! October 2, 1859

Solidago speciosa completely out, though not a flower was out September 27th, or five days ago; say three or four days. October 2, 1856

Solidago bicolor considerably past prime. October 2, 1856

Since the cooler weather many crickets are seen clustered on warm banks and by sunny wall-sides. October 2, 1857

The beggar-ticks (Bidens) now adhere to my clothes. I also find the desmodium sooner thus — as a magnet discovers the steel filings in a heap of ashes — than if I used my eyes alone. October 2, 1852

Brakes in Hubbard's Swamp Wood are withered, quite dry. October 2, 1856


Cinnamon fern four or five feet high . . . now generally imbrowned or crisp. In the more open swamp beyond, these ferns, recently killed by the frost and exposed to the sun, fill the air with a very strong sour scent.  October 2, 1857

I perceive in various places, in low ground, this afternoon, the sour scent of cinnamon ferns decaying. It is an agreeable phenomenon, reminding me of the season and of past years. October 2, 1859

At the Cliffs, I find the wasps prolonging their short lives on the sunny rocks, just as they endeavored to do at my house in the woods. October 2, 1851

Saw apparently two phoebes on the tops of the dry mulleins. Why so rarely seen for so many months? October 2, 1856

The garden is alive with migrating sparrows these mornings. October 2, 1858

The chickadees of late have winter ways, flocking after you. October 2, 1857

Hear a hylodes in the swamp. October 2, 1859

*****

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau. Wasps
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Great Bidens (Beggar-ticks)


*****
 
June 23, 1858 ("Veiny-leaved hawkweed, how long?");
June 23, 1859 (Veiny-leaved hawkweed freshly out"") 
August 12, 1852 ("Solidago bicolor, white goldenrod, apparently in good season.")
August 21, 1851 (" I have now found all the hawkweeds. Singular these genera of plants, plants manifestly related yet distinct. They suggest a history to nature, a natural history in a new sense.”)
August 26, 1856 ("These desmodiums are so fine and inobvious that it is difficult to detect them. I go through a grove in vain, but when I get away, find my coat covered with their pods. They found me, though I did not them.”);
August 30, 1859 ("The erechthites down has begun to fly.")
September 6, 1854 ("The cinnamon ferns along the edge of woods next the meadow are many yellow or cinnamon, or quite brown and withered.");
September 9, 1852 ("The groundsel down is in the air.")
September 10, 1859 ("See wasps, collected in the sun on a wall, at 9 A. M.")
September 12, 1858 ("The cinnamon fern has begun to yellow and wither.")
September 16, 1852 (“Some birds, like some flowers, begin to sing again in the fall.”)
September 20, 1852 ("Aster undulatus, or variable aster, with a large head of middle-sized blue flowers.")
September 20, 1852 ("The smooth sumachs are turning conspicuously and generally red, apparently from frost")
September 20, 1852 ("The groundsel and hieracium down is in the air")
September 21, 1856 ("[On top of Cliff, behind the big stump] is a great place for white goldenrod, now in its prime and swarming with honey-bees."); 
September 22, 1852 ("How brown and sere the groundsel or "fire-weed” on hillside by Heywood's Meadow, which has been touched by frost,")
September 23, 1854 ("Very brilliant and remarkable now are the prinos berries, so brilliant and fresh when most things -- flowers and berries -- have withered.”)
September 24, 1859 (" Stedman Buttrick's handsome maple and pine swamp is full of cinnamon ferns.")
September 25, 1859 ("The cinnamon ferns are all a decaying brown. . . in harmony with the twilight of the swamp")
September 25, 1852 ("The smooth sumach and the mountain is a darker, deeper, bloodier red")
September 25, 1859 ("Prinos berries are fairly ripe for a few days")
September 26, 1859 ("So it is with flowers, birds, and frogs a renewal of spring.") 
September 27, 1857 ("The large common ferns (either cinnamon or interrupted) are yellowish, and also many as rich a deep brown now as ever.")
September 28, 1851 ("The swamp is bordered with the red-berried alder, or prinos,")
September 29, 1856 ("How surely the desmodium, growing on some rough cliff-side, or the bidens, on the edge of a pool
October 1, 1859 ("The shrub oaks on this hill are now at their height, both with respect to their tints and their fruit.").
October 1, 1857 ("The pines now half turned yellow, the needles of this year are so much the greener by contrast")
October 1, 1858 ("The cinnamon ferns are crisp and sour in open grounds")



October 3, 1852 ("The pine fall, i.e. change, is commenced, and the trees are mottled green and yellowish")
October 3, 1856 ("The white pines are now getting to be pretty generally parti-colored, the lower yellowing needles ready to fall.")
October 3, 1858 ("White pines fairly begin to change.")
 October 3, 1858 ("Hear a hylodes peeping on shore.")
October 3, 1858 ("Some particular maple among a hundred will be of a peculiarly bright and pure scarlet, and, by its difference of tint and intenser color, attract our eyes even at a distance in the midst of the crowd")
October 4, 1859 ("The birds seem to delight in these first fine days of the fall, in the warm, hazy light")
October 4, 1859 (“Birds are now seen more numerously than before, as if called out by the fine weather, probably many migrating birds from the north.”)
October 5, 1858 ("Phebe note of Chickadee often these days. ")
October 5, 1857 ("The smooth sumach is very important for its mass of clear red or crimson. Some of it is now a very dark crimson.")
October 5, 1858 ("I still see large flocks, apparently of chip birds, on the weeds and ground in the yard.”)
October 6, 1856 ("The common notes of the chickadee, so rarely heard for a long time, and also one phebe strain from it, amid the Leaning Hemlocks, remind me of pleasant winter days, when they are more commonly seen.”)
October 6, 1858  ("Cinnamon ferns are generally crisped, but in the swamp I saw some handsomely spotted green and yellowish, and one clump, the handsomest I ever saw.")
October 6, 1858  ("The Aster undulatus is now very fair and interesting. Generally a tall and slender plant with a very long panicle of middle-sized lilac or paler purple flowers, bent over to one side the path. ")
October 6, 1858  ("The smooth sumachs, which are in their prime, or perhaps a little past, are, methinks, the most uniform and intense scarlet of any shrub or tree")
October 7, 1860 ("Now and for a week the chip-birds in flocks; the withered grass and weeds, etc., alive with them.")
October 8, 1855 ("Flocks of tree sparrows by river, slightly warbling. Hear a song sparrow sing. See apparently white-throated sparrows.”)
October 8, 1856 ("Of asters, only corymbosus, undulatus, Tradescanti, and longifolius . . .are common.")
October 8, 1856 (“The trees and weeds by the Turnpike are all alive this pleasant afternoon with twittering sparrows.”)
 October 8, 1852 (“Nothing can exceed the brilliancy of some of the maples which stand by the shore and extend their red banners over the water.”)
October 9, 1853 ("The red maples are now red and also yellow and reddening.")
October 9, 1860 ("I now see one small red maple which is all a pure yellow within and a bright red scarlet on its outer surface and prominences.")
October 10, 1851 ("There are many things to indicate the renewing of spring at this season.")
October 10, 1856 "The phebe note of the chickadee is now often heard in the yards, and the very Indian summer itself is a similar renewal of the year, with the faint warbling of birds and second blossoming of flowers.")
 October 10, 1857 ("Some Prinos verticillatus yellowing and browning at once, and in low ground just falling and leaving the bright berries bare")
October 11, 1856 ("The white goldenrod is still common here, and covered with bees.")
October 11, 1856 ("Here on the Cliffs are fresh poke flowers and small snapdragon and corydalis.");
October 11, 1856 (“Hieracium venosum still.”)
October 12, 1851 ("The seeds of the bidens, or beggar-ticks, with four-barbed awns like hay-hooks, now adhere to your clothes, so that you are all bristling with them.")
October 13, 1852 ("The shrub oak plain is now a deep red,")
October 13, 1857 ("These red maples and young scarlet oaks, etc., have been the most conspicuous and important colors, or patches of color, in the landscape. ")
October 14, 1856 ("Pine-needles, just fallen, now make a thick carpet. ")
October 15, 1856 (“The chickadees are hopping near on the hemlock above. They resume their winter ways before the winter comes.”)
October 16, 1857 ("See the carpet of pale-brown needles under this pine. How light it lies up on the grass, and that great rock, and the wall,")
October 17, 1857 ("The cinnamon ferns . . .have acquired their November aspect.")
October 19, 1852 (“ It is too remarkable a flower not to be sought out and admired each year, . . . this conspicuous and handsome and withal blue flower . . .the latest of all to begin to bloom, unless it be the witch-hazel. ”)
October 20, 1858 ("Now in low grounds the different species of bidens or beggar’s-ticks adhere to your clothes. These bidents, tridents, quadridents are shot into you by myriads of unnoticed foes.")
October 22, 1858 ("I see, from the Cliffs, that color has run through the shrub oak plain like a fire or a wave, not omitting a single tree.")
October 23, 1853 ("I find my clothes all bristling as with a chevaux-de-frise of beggar-ticks, which hold on for many days")
October 23, 1853 ("The prinos is bare, leaving red berries.")
October 23, 1853 ("Many phenomena re mind me that now is to some extent a second spring, — not only the new-springing and blossoming of flowers, but the peeping of the hylodes for some time")
October 23, 1853 ("The Aster undulatus is still quite abundant and fresh on this high, sunny bank, — far more so than the Solidago coesia.")
October 23, 1852 ("The chickadees flit along, following me inquisitively a few rods with lisping, tinkling note, — flit within a few feet of me from curiosity, head downward on the pines.")
October 25, 1858 ("The Aster undulatus is now a dark purple (its leaves), with brighter purple or crimson under sides.")
October 25, 1858 ("I see many goldenrods turned purple — all the leaves. Some of them are Solidago coesia and some (I think) S. puberula.")
November 2, 1853 ("The prinos berries are almost gone.")
November 3, 1858 ("Aster undulatus is still freshly in bloom.")
November 7, 1858 ("Aster undulatus and several goldenrods, at least, may be found yet.")
November 8, 1858 ("Solidago puberula still out, for you see a few bright yellow solidago flowers long after they are generally turned to a dirty-white fuzzy top.")
December 1, 1853 (T hey are our most honest and innocent little bird, drawing yet nearer to us as the winter advances.”)
December 3, 1856 ("Six weeks ago I noticed the advent of chickadees and their winter habits. As you walk along a wood-side, a restless little flock of them, whose notes you hear at a distance, will seem to say, "Oh, there he goes! Let's pay our respects to him." And they will flit after and close to you, and naively peck at the nearest twig to you, as if they were minding their own business all the while without any reference to you.”)

October 2, 2014

If you make the least correct 
observation of nature this year,
 you will have occasion to repeat it
 with illustrations the next, 
and the season and life itself is prolonged.

October 1 <<<<<<<<<  October 2>>>>>>>>  October 3

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau,  October 2
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 © 2009-2022


https://tinyurl.com/HDT02Oct 

The white pine fall on Fair Haven Hill.






P. M.

October 2, 2014

Some of the white pines on Fair Haven Hill have just reached the acme of their fall; others have almost entirely shed their leaves, and they are scattered over the ground and the walls. The same is the state of the pitch pines.

At the Cliffs, I find the wasps prolonging their short lives on the sunny rocks, just as they endeavored to do at my house in the woods.

It is a little hazy as I look into the west to-day.

The shrub oaks on the terraced plain are now almost uniformly of a deep red.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, October 2, 1851


Some of the white pines on Fair Haven Hill have just reached the acme of their fall
. See October 2, 1853 ("The white pines have scarcely begun at all to change here.") See also October 1, 1857 ("The pines now half turned yellow, the needles of this year are so much the greener by contrast"); October 3, 1852 ("The pine fall, i.e. change, is commenced, and the trees are mottled green and yellowish"); October 3, 1856 (" The white pines are now getting to be pretty generally parti-colored, the lower yellowing needles ready to fall ."); October 3, 1858 ("White pines fairly begin to change.") A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The October Pine Fall

I find the wasps prolonging their short lives on the sunny rocks. See note to September 10, 1859 ("See wasps, collected in the sun on a wall, at 9 A. M.")

It is a little hazy as I look into the west to-day.
See October 4, 1859 ("The birds seem to delight in these first fine days of the fall, in the warm, hazy light")

The shrub oaks on the terraced plain are now almost uniformly of a deep red. See October 2, 1852 ("From Cliffs the shrub oak plain has now a bright-red ground, perhaps of maples."); see also October 1, 1859 ("The shrub oaks on this hill are now at their height, both with respect to their tints and their fruit."); October 13, 1852 ("The shrub oak plain is now a deep red,"); October 22, 1858 ("I see, from the Cliffs, that color has run through the shrub oak plain like a fire or a wave, not omitting a single tree")

Tuesday, September 28, 2021

The white pines in Hubbard's Grove have now a pretty distinct parti-colored look.



September 28.

September 28, 2014

A considerable part of the last two nights and yesterday, a steady and rather warm rain, such as we have not had for a long time. This morning it is still completely overcast and drizzling a little.

Flocks of small birds — apparently sparrows, bobolinks (or some bird of equal size with a pencilled breast which makes a musical clucking), and piping goldfinches 


— are flitting about like leaves and hopping up on to the bent grass stems in the garden, letting themselves down to the heavy heads, either shaking or picking out a seed or two, then alighting to pick it up.

I am amused to see them hop up on to the slender, drooping grass stems; then slide down, or let themselves down, as it were foot over foot, with great fluttering, till they can pick at the head and release a few seeds; then alight to pick them up. They seem to prefer a coarse grass which grows like a weed in the garden between the potato-hills, also the amaranth.

It is an ill wind that blows nobody any good. They say that this has been a good year to raise turkeys, it has been so dry. So that we shall have something to be thankful for.


Hugh Miller, in his “Old Red Sandstone,” speaking of  “the consistency of style which obtains among the ichthyolites of this formation” and the “microscopic beauty of these ancient fishes,” says: 
“The artist who sculptured the cherry stone consigned it to a cabinet, and placed a microscope beside it; the microscopic beauty of these ancient fish was consigned to the twilight depths of a primeval ocean.

There is a feeling which at times grows upon the painter and the statuary, as if the perception and love of the beautiful had been sublimed into a kind of moral sense.

Art comes to be pursued for its own sake; the exquisite conception in the mind, or the elegant and elaborate model, becomes all in all to the worker, and the dread of criticism or the appetite of praise almost nothing.

And thus, through the influence of a power somewhat akin to conscience, but whose province is not the just and the good, but the fair, the refined, the exquisite, have works prosecuted in solitude, and never intended for the world, been found fraught with loveliness."

The hesitation with which this is said — to say nothing of its simplicity betrays a latent infidelity more fatal far than that of the “Vestiges of Creation,” which in another work this author endeavors to correct.

He describes that as an exception which is in fact the rule.

The supposed want of harmony between “the perception and love of the beautiful” and a delicate moral sense betrays what kind of beauty the writer has been conversant with. He speaks of his work becoming all in all to the worker, his rising above the dread of criticism and the appetite of praise, as if these were the very rare exceptions in a great artist's life, and not the very definition of it.


2 P. M. – To Conantum.

A warm, damp, mistling day, without much wind.

The white pines in Hubbard's Grove have now a pretty distinct parti-colored look, — green and yellow mottled, — reminding me of some plants like the milkweed, expanding with maturity and pushing off their downy seeds. They have a singularly soft look.

For a week or ten days I have ceased to look for new flowers or carry my botany in my pocket.

The fall dandelion is now very fresh and abundant in its prime.

I see where the squirrels have carried off the ears of corn more than twenty rods from the corn-field into the woods. A little further on, beyond Hubbard's Brook, I saw a gray squirrel with an ear of yellow corn a foot long sitting on the fence, fifteen rods from the field. He dropped the corn, but continued to sit on the rail, where I could hardly see him, it being of the same color with himself, which I have no doubt he was well aware of.

He next took to a red maple, where his policy was to conceal himself behind the stem, hanging perfectly still there till I passed, his fur being exactly the color of the bark. When I struck the tree and tried to frighten him, he knew better than to run to the next tree, there being no continuous row by which he might escape; but he merely fled higher up and put so many leaves between us that it was difficult to discover him.

When I threw up a stick to frighten him, he disappeared entirely, though I kept the best watch I could, and stood close to the foot of the tree.

They are wonderfully cunning.

The Eupatorium purpureum is early killed by frost and stands now all dry and brown by the sides of other herbs like the goldenrod and tansy, which are quite green and in blossom.
The railroads as much as anything appear to have unsettled the farmers. Our young Concord farmers and their young wives, hearing this bustle about them, seeing the world all going by as it were, — some daily to the cities about their business, some to California, — plainly cannot make up their minds to live the quiet, retired, old-fashioned, country-farmer's life. They are impatient if they live more than a mile from a railroad.

While all their neighbors are rushing to the road, there are few who have character or bravery enough to live off the road. He is too well aware what is going on in the world not to wish to take some part in it. I was reminded of this by meeting S. Tuttle in his wagon.


The pontederia, which apparently makes the mass of the weeds by the side of the river, is all dead and brown and has been for some time; the year is over for it.

The mist is so thin that it is like haze or smoke in the air, imparting a softness to the landscape.


Sitting by the spruce swamp in Conant's Grove, I am reminded that this is a perfect day to visit the swamps, with its damp, mistling, mildewy air, so solemnly still.  There are the spectre-like black spruces hanging with usnea moss, and in the rear rise the dark green pines and oaks on the hillside, touched here and there with livelier tints where a maple or birch may stand, this so luxuriant vegetation standing heavy, dark, sombre, like mould in a cellar. The peculiar tops of the spruce are seen against this.

I hear the barking of a red squirrel, who is alarmed at something, and a great scolding or ado among the jays, who make a great cry about nothing.

The swamp is bordered with the red-berried alder, or prinos, and the button-bush. The balls of the last appear not half grown this season,-probably on account of the drought, and now they are killed by frost.


This swamp contains beautiful specimens of the sidesaddle-flower (Sarracenia purpurea), better called pitcher-plant.  They ray out around the dry scape and flower, which still remain, resting on rich uneven beds of a coarse reddish moss, through which the small flowered andromeda puts up, presenting altogether a most rich and luxuriant appearance to the eye. 

Though the moss is comparatively dry, I cannot walk without upsetting the numerous pitchers, which are now full of water, and so wetting my feet. I once accidentally sat down on such a bed of pitcher-plants, and found an uncommonly wet seat where I expected a dry one. 

These leaves are of various colors from plain green to a rich striped yellow or deep red. No plants are more richly painted and streaked than the inside of the broad lips of these.  Old Josselyn called this "Hollow-leaved Lavender." No other plant, methinks, that we have is so remarkable and singular.


Here was a large hornets' nest, which when I went to take and first knocked on it to see if anybody was at home, out came the whole swarm upon me lively enough. I do not know why they should linger longer than their fellows whom I saw the other day, unless because the swamp is warmer. They were all within and not working, however.

I picked up two arrowheads in the field beyond.


What honest, homely, earth-loving, unaspiring houses they used to live in! Take that on Conantum for instance, so low you can put your hand on the eaves behind. There are few whose pride could stoop to enter such a house to-day. And then the broad chimney, built for comfort, not for beauty, with no coping of bricks to catch the eye, no alto or basso relievo.

The mist has now thickened into a fine rain, and I retreat.



H. D. Thoreau, Journal, September 28, 1851

The white pines in Hubbard's Grove have now a pretty distinct parti-colored look, — green and yellow mottled.  See September 28, 1854 ("R. W. E.’s pines are parti-colored, preparing to fall, some of them. ,")  See also September 29, 1857 ("Pines have begun to be parti-colored with yellow leaves."); October 1, 1857 ("The pines now half turned yellow, the needles of this year are so much the greener by contrast."); October 3, 1852 ("The pine fall, i.e. change, is commenced, and the trees are mottled green and yellowish."); October 3, 1856 ("The white pines are now getting to be pretty generally parti-colored, the lower yellowing needles ready to fall.") and also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The October Pine Fall

The fall dandelion is now very fresh and abundant in its prime. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Autumnal Dandelion

The pontederia is all dead and brown and has been for some time; the year is over for it. See August 22, 1860 ("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"); September 2, 1859 ("The pontederia leaves are now decidedly brown or brownish"); September 5, 1860 ("The pontederia is extensively crisped and blackened"); September 13, 1859 ("The pontederia spike is now generally turned downward beneath the water"); September 17, 1852 ("The pontederia leaves are sere and brown along the river."); September 18, 1858 ("I see one pontederia spike rising blue above the surface. Elsewhere the dark withered pontederia leaves show themselves, and at a distance look like ducks,  and so help conceal them."); September 26, 1859 ("The pontederia is fast shedding its seeds of late. . . . Many are long since bare. "); October 16, 1859 ("This may not be an annual phenomenon to you.. . ., but it has an important place in my Kalendar. So surely as the sun appears to be in Libra or Scorpio, I see the conical winter lodges of the musquash rising above the withered pontederia")

I hear the barking of a red squirrel, who is alarmed at something, and a great scolding or ado among the jays.                                                 
The red squirrels scold
and the jays scream while you are
clubbing and shaking trees.
October 11, 1852

See also September 21, 1854 ("I hear many jays since the frosts began.”); September 24, 1857 ("A red squirrel chiding you from his concealment in some pine-top. It is the sound most native to the locality."); September 25, 1851 ("In these cooler, windier, crystal days the note of the jay sounds a little more native."); September 25, 1855 ("The scream of the jay is heard from the wood-side."); September 25, 1857 ("Stopping in my boat under the Hemlocks, I hear singular bird-like chirruping from two red squirrels."); October 5, 1857 ("I hear the alarum of a small red squirrel."); December 1, 1857 (" I hear a red squirrel barking at me amid the pine and oak tops, and now I see him coursing from tree to tree. ") and A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Red Squirrel; A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Blue Jay

The swamp is bordered with the red-berried alder, or prinos, See September 28, 1856 ("How many fruits are scarlet now! — barberries, prinos, etc."); See also August 20, 1854 ("Prinos berries have begun to redden."); August 23, 1853 ("Barberries have begun to redden, and the prinos, — some of the last quite red."); September 2, 1852 ("The red prinos berries ripe in sunny places.");September 5, 1858 ("To Walden. Prinos verticillatus berries reddening."); September 11, 1859 ("The prinos berries are now seen, red (or scarlet), clustered along the stems, amid the as yet green leaves. A cool red."); September 12, 1851 ("The prinos berries are pretty red."); September 21, 1856 ("Prinos berries."); September 23, 1854 ("Very brilliant and remarkable now are the prinos berries, so brilliant and fresh when most things -- flowers and berries -- have withered. "); September 25, 1859 ("Prinos berries are fairly ripe for a few days"); October 10, 1857 ("To Walden over Fair Haven Hill. Some Prinos verticillatus yellowing and browning at once, and in low ground just falling and leaving the bright berries bare");  October 23, 1853 ("The prinos is bare, leaving red berries."); November 2, 1853 ("The prinos berries are almost gone."); November 25, 1858 ("The prinos berries on their light-brown twigs are quite abundant and handsome.") and note to October 2, 1856 (“The prinos berries are in their prime.”):

The fresh bright scarlet
prinos berries seen in prime
amid fresh green leaves.
October 2, 1856

This swamp contains beautiful specimens of the sidesaddle-flower. See note to June 12, 1856 ("Sidesaddle flower numerously out now.")  See also e.g.  June 12, 1852 ("The petals of the sidesaddle-flower, fully expanded, hang down. How complex it is, what with flowers and leaves! It is a wholesome and interesting plant to me, the leaf especially."); September 11, 1851("We have had no rain for a week, and yet the pitcher-plants have water in them. Are they ever quite dry? Are they not replenished by the dews always, and, being shaded by the grass, saved from evaporation?"); November 11, 1858 (“In the meadows the pitcher-plants are bright-red. ); November 16, 1852 ("At Holden's Spruce Swamp. The water is frozen in the pitcher-plant leaf."). See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Purple Pitcher Plant

I do not know why they should linger longer than their fellows whom I saw the other day. See September 25, 1851 ("The hornets' nest not brown but gray, two shades, whitish and dark, alternating on the outer layers or the covering, giving it a waved appearance."); . October 4, 1858 ("Hornets are still at work in their nests") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau. Wasps and Hornets

September 28.  See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, September 28



A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Scarlet berry season.
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/HDT510928

Popular Posts Last 30 Days.

The week ahead in Henry’s journal

The week ahead in Henry’s journal
A journal, a book that shall contain a record of all your joy.
"A stone fruit. Each one yields me a thought." ~ H. D. Thoreau, March 28, 1859


I sit on this rock
wrestling with the melody
that possesses me.