Tuesday, November 15, 2022

A Book of the Seasons: Indian Summer

 



October is the sunset month of the year 
when the earth is painted like the sunset sky. 
This rich glow flashes round the world. 
This light fades into the clear white leafless twilight of November –
and what ever more glowing sunset or Indian summer we have then 
is the afterglow of the year. 
Henry Thoreau, November 14, 1853

Indian-summer.
The sun comes out and lights up
the mellowing year.

Frosts in the mornings –
open window for a week.
Indian summer.

November 15

September 4. I think I could write a poem to be called Concord. For argument I should have the River, the Woods, the Ponds, the Hills,  the Fields, the Swamps and Meadows' the Streets and Buildings and the Villagers. Then Morning, Noon and Evening, Spring, Summer, Autumn and Winter, Night, Indian Summer, and the Mountains in the Horizon. September 4, 1841 

September 8.  Some spring flowers bloom again, followed by an Indian summer of finer atmosphere and of a pensive beauty.  May my life be not destitute of its Indian summer, a season of fine and clear, mild weather in which I may prolong my hunting before the winter comes, when I may once more lie on the ground with faith, as in spring, and even with more serene confidence. And then I will [wrap the] drapery of summer about me and lie down to pleasant dreams. As one year passes into another through the medium of winter, so does this our life pass into another through the medium of death. September 8, 1851

September 21. A fine-grained air, seething or shimmering as I look over the fields, reminds me of the Indian summer that is to come.  Do not these days always succeed the first frosty mornings? September 21, 1854

September 27.  It is a very fine afternoon to be on the water, some what Indian-summer-like. I do not know what constitutes the peculiarity and charm of this weather . . . There is a slight coolness in the air, yet the sun is occasionally very warm. September 27, 1857

October 4.  This is a fine and warm afternoon, Indian-summer like, but we have not had cold enough before it.  October 4, 1859 

October 5.  A warm and bright October afternoon.[Begins now ten days of perfect Indian summer without rain; and the eleventh and twelfth days equally warm, though rainy.] October 5, 1857

October 7.  I sit on Poplar Hill. It is a warm Indian-summerish afternoon. October 7, 1852

October 10. These are the finest days in the year, Indian summer. This afternoon it is 80°, between three and four, and at 6.30 this evening my chamber is oppressively sultry, and the thermometer on the north side of the house is at 64°. . .  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, 1856

October 11. The Indian summer continues . . . It is perfect Indian summer, a thick haze forming wreaths in the near horizon. The sun is almost shorn of its rays now at mid-afternoon, and there is only a sheeny reflection from the river. October 11, 1856

October 13.  It is a sufficiently clear and warm, rather Indian-summer day, and they are gathering the apples in the orchard . . . The chickadees take heart, too, and sing above these warm rocks. October 13, 1852 

October 13This has been the ninth of those wonderful days, and one of the warmest. I am obliged to sit with my window wide open all the evening as well as all day. It is the earlier Indian summer. October 13, 1857

October 14.   Fine, clear Indian-summer weather.  October 14, 1853

October 14.   A fine Indian-summer day. The 6th and 10th were quite cool, and any particularly warm days since may be called Indian summer (?), I think. October 14, 1859

October 15.  The ten days — at least — before this were plainly Indian summer. They were remarkably pleasant and warm. The latter half I sat and slept with an open window, though the first part of the time I had a little fire in the morning. These succeeded to days when you had worn thick clothing and sat by fires for some time. October 15, 1857 

October 16There is less wind these days than a week or fortnight ago; calmer and more Indian-summer-like days. October 16, 1858

 October 17. A fine Indian-summer afternoon.  October 17, 1855 

October 19It is a very pleasant afternoon, quite still and cloudless, with a thick haze concealing the distant hills. Does not this haze mark the Indian summer? October 19, 1855

October 19A remarkably warm day. I have not been more troubled by the heat this year, being a little more thickly clad than in summer. I walk in the middle of the street for air. The thermometer says 74° at l P. M. This must be Indian summer. October 19, 1858

October 19 Indian-summer-like and gossamer. October 19, 1860

October 20.   Indian summer this and the 19th. I hear of apple trees in bloom again in Waltham or Cambridge . . . Another remarkably warm and pleasant day . . . 74° at 2 P. M.  . . . There is a haze between me and the nearest woods, as thick as the thickest in summer.  October 20, 1858

October 21A very warm Indian-summer day, too warm for a thick coat.  October 21, 1856

October 22A week or more of fairest Indian summer ended last night, for to-day it rains. It was so warm day before yesterday, I worked in my shirt-sleeves in the woods. October 22, 1853

October 22.  This and the last two days Indian-summer weather, following hard on that sprinkling of snow west of Concord. Pretty hard frosts these nights. October 22, 1854 

October 22.  Do not the darkest nights occur about this time, when there is a haze produced by the Indian-summer days, succeeded by a moonless night? October 22, 1858

October 24.  Another Indian-summer day. October 24,  1852

October 25. A beautiful, calm Indian-summer afternoon, the withered reeds on the brink reflected in the water.  October 25, 1854

October 28. Here is an Indian-summer day. Not so warm, indeed, as the 19th and 20th, but warm enough for pleasure.  October 28, 1858

October 31.  It is a beautiful, warm and calm Indian-summer afternoon. October 31, 1853

October 31. Ever since October 27th we have had remarkably warm and pleasant Indian summer, with frequent frosts in the morning. Sat with open window for a week.  October 31, 1854 

October 31.  It is a fine day, Indian-summer-like, and there is considerable gossamer on the causeway and blowing from all trees. That warm weather of the 19th and 20th was, methinks, the same sort of weather with the most pleasant in November (which last alone some allow to be Indian summer), only more to be expected. October 31, 1858

November 1.  A beautiful Indian-summer day, the most remarkable hitherto and equal to any of the kind. November 1, 1855

November 1.  A perfect Indian-summer day, and wonderfully warm. 72+ at 1 P. M. and probably warmer at two.  November 1, 1860

November 2As several days past, it has been cloudy and misty in the morning fairer and warmer, if not Indian summer, in the afternoon; yet the mist lingers in drops on the cobwebs and grass until night. November 2, 1860

November 5. In Boston. — The first Indian-summer day, after an unusually cold October. November 5, 1859

November 6.Wind southwest. Thermometer on north of the house 70° at 12 M. Indian summer. The cocks crow in the soft air. They are very sensitive to atmospheric changes .November 6, 1857

November 7. This has been another Indian-summer day. Thermometer 58° at noon. November 7, 1857

November 8. Like Viola pedata, I shall be ready to bloom again here in my Indian summer days. Here ever springing, never dying, with perennial root I stand; for the winter of the land is warm to me. November 8, 1851

November 9.  A fine Indian-summer day. Have had pleasant weather about a week. November 9, 1859

November 11. The fall of the year is over, and now let us see if we shall have any Indian summer. November 11, 1851

November 11Clear and fine Indian-summer day. November 11, 1857

November 13.  No Indian summer have we had this November. November 13, 1851

November 15.  After yesterday's clear, windy weather we have to-day less wind and much haze. It is Indian-summer-like. November 15, 1853

November 15.  A very pleasant Indian-summer day. November 15, 1859

November 16. There seems to be in the fall a sort of attempt at a spring, a rejuvenescence, as if the winter were not expected by a part of nature. November 16, 1850

November 16.  This and yesterday Indian-summer days. November 16, 1860

November 17.  Another Indian-summer day, as fair as any we've had.  November 17, 1859

November 19.  This is a very pleasant and warm Indian-summer afternoon. Methinks we have not had one like it since October . . .What is the peculiarity of the Indian summer? From the 14th to the 21st October inclusive, this year, was perfect Indian summer; and this day the next? Methinks that any particularly pleasant and warmer weather after the middle of October is thus called. November 19, 1853

November 22  A sort of Indian summer in the day, which thus far has been denied to the year. After a cold gray day this cheering light almost warms us by its resemblance to fire. November 22, 1851

November 22 This is quite a pleasant day, but hardly amounting to Indian summer. November 22, 1858

November 23. The Indian summer itself, said to be more remarkable in this country than elsewhere, no less than the reblossoming of certain flowers, the peep of the hylodes, and sometimes the faint warble of some birds, is the reminiscence, or rather the return, of spring, the year renewing its youth.November 23, 1853

November 25. This afternoon, late and cold as it is, has been a sort of Indian summer. Indeed, I think that we have summer days from time to time the winter through, and that it is often the snow on the ground makes the whole difference. November 25, 1850

November 27.  Almost an Indian-summer day. November 27, 1852

November 30.  This has been a very pleasant month, with quite a number of Indian-summer days, - a pleasanter month than October was. It is quite warm today, and as I go home at dusk on the railroad causeway, I hear a hylodes peeping. November 30, 1859

December 4. Fair Haven Pond is now open, and there is no snow. It is a beautiful, almost Indian-summer, afternoon, though the air is more pure and glassy. December 4, 1850

December 5.  Rather hard walking in the snow . . . thus suddenly we have passed from Indian summer to winter.  December 5, 1859

December 7. Perhaps the warmest day yet. True Indian summer. December 7, 1852

December 7. The winters come now as fast as snowflakes. It was summer, and now again it is winter. December 7, 1856 

December 8. Another Indian-summer day. December 8, 1852

December 11.  Almost a complete Indian-summer day, clear and warm. I am without greatcoat.  December 11, 1853

December 13. We had one hour of almost Indian summer weather in the middle of the day. I felt the influence of the sun. It melted my stoniness a little. December 13, 1851

See also 

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

Monday, November 14, 2022

A Book of the Seasons: November 14 (bare branches of the oak woods, cold north wind, advancing winter, the clear white leafless twilight of November)

 



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


Now the bare branches
of the oak woods await the
onset of the wind. 
 November 14, 1853

October light fades
into the clear white leafless
November twilight.

My boat's motion sends 
an undulation ashore, 
rustling the dry sedge.
November 14, 1855

In this cutting wind
the dry rustle of oak leaves
sets your heart on edge.


November 14, 2020


Now for the bare branches of the oak woods, where hawks have nested and owls perched, the sinews of the trees, and the brattling of the wind in their midst. For, now their leaves are off, they've bared their arms, thrown off their coats, and, in the attitude of fencers, await the onset of the wind.  November 14, 1853

This morning it was considerably colder than for a long time, and by noon very much colder than heretofore, with a pretty strong northerly wind. November 14, 1857

Unexpectedly find Heywood's Pond frozen over thinly, it being shallow and coldly placed. November 14, 1851

Minott hears geese to-day.  November 14, 1855

The principal flight of geese was November 8th, so that the bulk of them preceded this cold turn five days. November 14, 1858

Now all that moves migrates, or has migrated. Ducks are gone by. The citizen has sought the town. November 14, 1858

This cold weather makes us step more briskly. November 14, 1857

I feel the crunching sound  of frost-crystals in the heaving mud under my feet, November 14, 1857

Such are the first advances of winter. Ice-crystals shoot in the mud, the sphagnum becomes a stiffened mass, and dropping water in these cold places, a rigid icicle.   November 14, 1857 

It is all at once perfect winter. I walk on frozen ground two thirds covered with a sugaring of dry snow.   November 14, 1858

This strong and cutting northwest wind makes the oak leaves rustle dryly enough to set your heart on edge. November 14, 1858

The rustling leaves sound like the fierce breathing of wolves, — an endless pack, half famished, from the north, impelled by hunger to seize him. November 14, 1858

If he looks into the water, he gets no comfort there, for that is cold and empty, expecting ice. November 14, 1858

I climb Annursnack. Under this strong wind more dry oak leaves are rattling down. 
All winter is their fall.  November 14, 1853.

A distinction is to be made between those trees whose leaves fall as soon as the bright autumnal tints are gone and they are withered and those whose leaves are rustling and falling all winter even into spring. November 14, 1853

The willow twigs on the right of the Red Bridge causeway are bright greenish-yellow and reddish as in the spring. Also on the right railroad sand-bank at Heywood's meadow. Is it because they are preparing their catkins now against another spring? November 14, 1854

A clear, bright, warm afternoon. November 14, 1855

All waters — the rivers and ponds and swollen brooks — and many new ones are now seen through the leafless trees — are blue reservoirs of dark indigo amid the general russet and reddish-brown and gray. November 14, 1853

Now I begin to notice the silver downy twigs of the sweet-fern in the sun (lately bare), the red or crimson twigs and buds of the high blueberry. The different colors of the water andromeda in different lights. November 14, 1858

The river is slightly over the meadows. November 14, 1854

The rain has raised the river an additional foot or more, and it is creeping over the meadows. November 14, 1855

The motion of my boat sends an undulation to the shore, which rustles the dry sedge half immersed there. November 14, 1855

Still yarrow, tall buttercup, and tansy. November 14, 1852

A painted tortoise swimming under water and a wood tortoise out on the bank. November 14, 1855

Two red-wing blackbirds alight on a black willow. November 14, 1855

The thermometer is 27° at 6 P. M. The mud in the street is stiffened under my feet this evening.  November 14, 1857

[October] light fades into the clear, white, leafless twilight of November, and what ever more glowing sunset or Indian summer we have then is the afterglow of the year. November 14, 1853


November 14, 2020

*****
A Book of Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, First Ice.
A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, November

*****
November 14, 2022
 
October 24, 1858 ("October is the red sunset sky, November the later twilight.")
November 9, 1855  ("See a painted tortoise and a wood tortoise in different places out on the bank still!  ")
November 11, 1858 ("The waters look cold and empty . . .  waiting for ice. Indeed, ice that formed last night must have recently melted in it.") 
November 12, 1853 ("Tansy is very fresh still in some places")
November 12, 1858 ("All people move the brisker for the cold, yet are braced and a little elated by it.")
November 12, 1859 ("The first sprinkling of snow, which for a short time whitens the ground in spots.”)
November 13, 1851 ("The cattle-train came down last night from Vermont with snow nearly a foot thick upon it. . . .So it snows. Such, some years, may be our first snow.”)
November 13, 1855 ("In mid-forenoon, seventy or eighty geese, in three harrows successively ")
November 13, 1855 ("A fine clear afternoon after the misty morning and heavy rain of the night.")
November 13, 1858 ("Last night was quite cold, and the ground is white with frost. Thus gradually, but steadily, winter approaches")
November 13, 1858 ("A large flock of geese go over just before night. ")
November 13, 1858 (“We looked out the window at 9 P. M. and saw the ground for the most part white with the first sugaring . . . Thus it comes stealthily in the night and changes the whole aspect of the earth.”)


November 17, 1858 ("We are interested at this season by the manifold ways in which the light is reflected to usAscending a little knoll covered with sweet-fern, shortly after, the sun appearing but a point above the sweet-fern, its light was reflected from a dense mass of the bare downy twigs of this plant in a surprising manner. . . A myriad of surfaces are now prepared to reflect the light. This is one of the hundred silvery lights of November.")
November 18, 1852 ("Yarrow and tansy still. These are cold, gray days.");
November 27, 1853 ("Now a man will eat his heart, if ever, now while the earth is bare, barren and cheerless, and we have the coldness of winter without the variety of ice and snow")
December 11, 1853 ("We find Heywood's Pond frozen five inches thick.")   


November 14, 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.

November 13 <<<<<<<<<  November 14 >>>>>>>> November 15

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau,  November 14
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

Wednesday, November 9, 2022

Distant well-known blue mountains in the horizon - pine leaves are fallen.



November 9.

November 9, 2022

It is a pleasant surprise to walk over a hill where an old wood has recently been cut off, and, on looking round, to see, instead of dense ranks of trees almost impermeable to light, distant well-known blue mountains in the horizon and perchance a white village over an expanded open country. I now take this in preference to all my old familiar walks. So a new prospect and walks can be created where we least expected it.

***

The chickadees, if I stand long enough, hop nearer and nearer inquisitively, from pine bough to pine bough, till within four or five feet, occasionally lisping a note.

The pitcher plant, though a little frost-bitten and often cut off by the mower, now stands full of water in the meadows. I never found one that had not an insect in it. 

***

I found many fresh violets (Viola pedata) to-day (November 9th) in the woods. 

***

The leaves of the larch are now yellow and falling off. 

Just a month ago, I observed that the white pines were parti-colored, green and yellow, the needles of the previous year now falling. Now I do not observe any yellow ones, and 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.

The trees were not so tidy then; they are not so full now. They look best when contrasted with a field of snow.  

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, November 9, 1850

A pleasant surprise to walk over a hill . . . to see. . . distant well-known blue mountains in the horizon and perchance a white village. See November 9, 1851 ("To-day the mountains seen from the pasture above are dark blue, so dark that they look like new mountains and make a new impression, and the intervening town of Acton is seen against them in a new relation, a new neighborhood"); November 11, 1851 ("The horizon has one kind of beauty and attraction to him who has never explored the hills and mountains in it, and another ... to him who has."); November 22, 1860 ("Simply to see to a distant horizon through a clear air, - the fine outline of a distant hill or a blue mountaintop through some new vista, - this is wealth enough for one afternoon.") See also September 12, 1851 ("It is worth the while to see the mountains in the horizon once a day."); October 22, 1857 (" But what a perfect crescent of mountains we have in our northwest horizon! Do we ever give thanks for it?"); November 4, 1857("But those grand and glorious mountains, how impossible to remember daily that they are there, and to live accordingly! They are meant to be a perpetual reminder to us, pointing out the way."); December 8, 1854("Why do the mountains never look so fair as from my native fields?"); See also
A Book of the Seasons
, by Henry Thoreau, Mountains in the Horizon

November 9, 2024
Distant mountain top
as blue to the memory
as now to the eyes.

I found many fresh violets. See  November 7, 1851 ("Viola pedata in blossom."); November 8, 1851 ("Like Viola pedata, I shall be ready to bloom again here in my Indian summer days.") See also 
A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreauthe Violets

The chickadees, if I stand long enough, hop nearer and nearer See November 8, 1857 ("I do not know exactly what that sweet word is which the chickadee says when it hops near to me now in those ravines.
The chickadee /Hops near to me.") See also 
A Book of the Seasons,by Henry Thoreau, the Chickadee in Winter

The pitcher plant, though a little frost-bitten . . . now stands full of water in the meadows. See November 11, 1858 ("In the meadows the pitcher-plants are bright-red. "); November 15, 1857 ("The water is frozen solid in the leaves of the pitcher plants.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Purple Pitcher Plant

The leaves of the larch are now yellow and falling off.  See November 9, 1858 (" The trees on the hill just north of Alcott’s land, which I saw yesterday so distinctly from Ponkawtasset, and thought were either larches or aspens, prove to be larches. On a hill like this it seems they are later to change and brighter now than those in the Abel Heywood swamp, which are brownish-yellow. The first-named larches were quite as distinct amid the pines seen a mile off as near at hand.") See also November 8, 1853("The yellow larch leaves still hold on, — later than those of any of our pines. "); November 13, 1858 ("Larches now look dark or brownish yellow. Now, on the advent of much colder weather, the last Populus tremuliformis has lost its leaves, the sheltered dogwood is withered, and even the scarlet oak may be considered as extinguished, and the larch looks brown and nearly bare."). and 
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Larch

It is only for a few weeks in the fall after the new leaves have done growing that there are any yellow and falling. See .November 21, 1850 ("It is remarkable that the old leaves turn and fall in so short a time")

There is a season when we may say the old pine leaves are now yellow, and again, they are fallen.
 
See
A Book of the Seasons
, by Henry Thoreau, The October Pine Fall

November 9. See A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau,  November 9

There is a season 
when old pine leaves are yellow – 
then they are fallen.


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-501109

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