Tuesday, April 1, 2025

A Book of the Seasons: April Days

A year is made up of 
a certain series and number 
of sensations and thoughts 
which have their language in nature.

Henry Thoreau, June 6, 1857







Warm rain on the roof
puddles shining in the road,
April comes in true.
April 1, 1855

The star-studded sky,
water reflecting the stars –
the dark land between.
April 1, 1853


Something reminds me
of the song of the robin,
rainy days, past springs.
April 2, 1854

Southeasterly wind
its sough in the pines sounds warm,
whispering summer.
April 3,  1854

White maple trees stand
in the midst of the old snow,
buds slightly opened.
April 3, 1856

Snow-covered mountains
in the northwest horizon
glisten in the sun.
April 4, 1855

These truly warm days
just so simple every year.
Butterflies and frogs!
April 5, 1854

Circle round the sun
seen only in reflection
now in the water.
April 5, 1855

White maples resound
with the hum of honey-bees
like a summer dream.
April 6, 1854

The hazel stigmas
are well out and catkins loose,
but no pollen shed.
April 7, 1854

As always April
is unexpectedly warm
in sheltered places.
April 8, 1859

Two marsh hawks circling
along the water’s edge low
over the meadows.
April 8, 1856

At this still season
before the crickets begin
I hear the bees hum.
April 9, 1853

Earliest flowers
bloom when most have not begun
to think of flowers.

Deciduous tree
reflections at this season 
make wonderful rhyme.
April 11, 1852

Bright-yellow blossoms
on willow catkins today,
color of the sun.
April 12, 1852

Mountains clad with snow,
and the wind being northwest
accounts for this cold.
April 12, 1855

Take off coat, hear toads'
loud, ringing sound fill the air
which yet few notice.
April 13, 1853

Ice goes to the sea.
Now sails the fish hawk overhead,
looking for his prey.
April 14, 1852

A general tinge of green
on the bared meadows and hills
now just peeping forth.
April 14, 1854

The sound of church bells.
Song of the villages heard
with song of the birds.
April 15, 1855

We always expect
warmer weather than we have
at this time of year.
April 15, 1860

Sun not fairly out,
cold disagreeable day,
yet snow melts apace.
April 16, 1854

Eastern horizon
reflected in smooth waters
 just after sunrise.
April 16, 1855

Eastern horizon
pale salmon in skim-milk blue
just after sunrise.

Buff-edged fluttering
over the leaves in wood-paths
this warm afternoon.
April 16, 1855

A striped snake rustles
down a dry open hillside
in long withered grass.
April 16, 1855

Pale blue mountain haze  
ushers in the long summer
our warmest day yet.
April 16, 1855 


The distant white pines
flake into tiers, the whole tree
like an open cone.
April 17, 1855

Quickly and surely
the bee finds the first flower
before the poet.
April 17, 1855

How pleasing the sounds
awakened nature in spring
first humming of bees.
April 17, 1859

By expectation
spring butterflies reappear
to complete the world. 

Nature made warblers
to show every hue and shade.
The warblers now come.
April 19, 1854

Middle of the Pond
smallest duck I ever saw
buoyantly asleep.
April 19, 1855

Yesterday is like
a reflection in water.
Ideal inverted.
April 20, 1854

Up the hill beyond
the brook I sit on a rock
below the old trough.
April 21, 1854

The pine on Lee’s shore
seen against the light water
this cloudy weather.
April 22, 1852

Sitting on the cliffs
drops fall in the woods below
as sun shines above.
April 21, 1855

White-headed eagle
edgewise like a black ripple,
concealed in the sky.
April 23, 1854

Sail before the wind.
You must live in the present,
launch on every wave.
April 24, 1859

The first partridge drums.
Now earth’s pulse beats audibly
with the flow of life.

Bushes ring with song,
evening sky reflected from
the rippled water.
April 25, 1855

How pleasant in spring
a still overcast day like this
when water is smooth.

And the robin sings
with more vigor and promise
this mizzling still day.

The spring of the world
first flowers followed bare rock.
So the spring this year.

Near noon of the year
nature takes a siesta--
Summer in the air.

Spring flowers flash out
like poetry the blossom
preceding the leaf.

Mottled light and shade
seen looking into the woods
is more like summer.

The scream of a hawk
over Holden woods and swamp.
Those two men with guns.
April 30, 1855

I hear from afar 
the scream of a hawk circling
Holden woods and swamp.
April 30, 1855


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A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, April Days

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

Monday, March 31, 2025

A Book of the Seasons: The Small Red Butterfly

 

For the first time I perceive this spring 
that the year is a circle . . .
I would  make a chart of our life,
know how its shores trend,
that butterflies reappear and when,
know why just this circle 
of creatures completes the world.

Henry Thoreau, April 18, 1852


Small red butterfly
and the distant note of a
solitary toad.

Early butterflies
seem to be born of the leaves
on the forest floor.

These days, when a soft west or
southwest wind blows and it is truly warm. . . 
these bring out the butterflies and the frogs,
and the marsh hawks which prey on the last.
Just so simple is every year.


March 22. The phenomena of an average March . . . Many insects and worms come forth and are active — and the perla insects still about ice and water, — as tipula, grubs, and fuzzy caterpillars, minute hoppers on grass at springs; gnats, large and small, dance in air; the common and the green fly buzz outdoors; the gyrinus, large and small, on brooks, etc., and skaters;spiders shoot their webs, and at last gossamer floats; the honey- bee visits the skunk-cabbage; fishworms come up, sow-bugs wireworms etc.; various larvæ are seen in pools; small green and also brown grasshoppers begin to hop, small ants to stir ( 25th ) Vanessa Antiopa out 29th; cicindelas run on sand; and small reddish butterflies are seen in wood-paths, etc., etc., etc. March 22, 1860

March 31, 2013


March 31. In the wood-paths now I see many small red butterflies, I am not sure of what species, not seeing them still. The earliest butterflies seem to be born of the dry leaves on the forest floor. March 31, 1858

March 31The small red butterfly in the wood-paths and sprout-lands, and I hear at mid-afternoon a very faint but positive ringing sound rising above the susurrus of the pines, of the breeze  which I think is the note of a distant and perhaps solitary toad. March 31, 1860

April 1. Saw the first bee of the season on the railroad causeway, also a small red butterfly and, later, a large dark one with buff-edged wings. April 1, 1852

April 8. The great buff-edged butterfly flutters across the river. Afterward I see a small red one over the shore. April 8, 1855

April 9. Small reddish butterflies common. April 9, 1861

April 24. That fine slaty-blue butterfly, bigger than the small red, in wood-paths.  April 24, 1855

April 29. The butterflies are now more numerous, red and blue-black or dark velvety. April 29, 1852

May 15. A red butterfly goes by. Methinks I have seen them before. May 15, 1853

May 19 I have seen for a week a smaller and redder butterfly than the early red or reddish one. Its hind wings are chiefly dark or blackish. It is quite small. The forward wings, a pretty bright scarlet red with black spots. May 19, 1860

May 26 . I see the common small reddish butterflies. May 26, 1857

July 15. There are many butterflies, yellow and red, about the Asclepias incarnata now. July 15, 1854

July 16. I see the yellow butterflies now gathered in fleets in the road, and on the flowers of the milkweed (Asclepias pulchra) by the roadside, a really handsome flower; also the smaller butterfly, with reddish wings, and a larger, black or steel-blue, with wings spotted red on edge, and one of equal size, reddish copper-colored. July 16, 1851

July 16. Many yellow butterflies and red on clover and yarrow. July 16, 1854

July 21. The forenoon is fuller of light. The butterflies on the flowers look like other and frequently larger flowers themselves. Now I yearn for one of those old, meandering, dry, uninhabited roads, which lead away from towns . . . which the kingbird and the swallow twitter over, and the song sparrow sings on its rails; where the small red butterfly is at home on the yarrow, and no boys threaten it with imprisoning hat. There I can walk.  July 21, 1851

July 22.  Tansy is now conspicuous by the roadsides, covered with small red butterflies. July 22, 1852

July 22.  Observed, on the wild basil on Annursnack, small reddish butterflies which looked like a part of the plant. It has a singularly soft, velvety leaf. July 22, 1853

July 22. The butterflies at present are chiefly on the Canada thistle and the mayweed. I see on the last, in the road beyond Colburn Hill, a surprising number of the small reddish (small copper) butterflies, for a dozen rods. July 22, 1860

July 29. Butterflies of various colors are now more abundant than I have seen them before, especially the small reddish or coppery ones. 
I counted ten yesterday on a single Sericocarpus conyzoides. They were in singular harmony with the plant, as if they made a part of it. The insect that comes after the honey or pollen of a plant is necessary to it and in one sense makes a part of it. Being constantly in motion and, as they moved, opening and closing their wings to preserve their balance, they presented a very lifesome scene. To-day I see them on the early goldenrod (Solidago stricta). July 29, 1853

August 30. Now that flowers are rarer, almost every one of whatever species has bees or butterflies upon it. August 30, 1859

September 6. Solidago nemoralis is apparently in prime on Lupine Hill; some of it past. It is swarming with butterflies, — yellow, small red, and large, — fluttering over it. September 6, 1858

September 14. Now for the Aster Tradescanti along low roads, like the Turnpike, swarming with butterflies and bees. September 14, 1856

September 25I see numerous butterflies still, yellow and small red, though not in fleets.  September 25, 1851

September 30. The first thing was to find some flowers and catch some honey- bees . . .We  found a few of the Diplopappus linariifolius (savory-eaved aster ) and one or two small white (bushy?) asters, also A. undulatus and Solidago nemoralis rarely, on which they work in a sunny place; but there were only two or three bumblebees, wasps, and butterflies, yellow and small red, on them . . . Not a honey-bee could we find  September 30, 1852


See also:
Lewis Hyde, What Thoreau knew about Butterflies (Thoreau's "small red butterfl[y], I am not sure of what species"  – remains unidentified)



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

Friday, February 28, 2025

A Book of the Seasons: March days



A year is made up of 
a certain series and number 
of sensations and thoughts 
which have their language in nature.

Henry Thoreau, June 6, 1857








 





On the first spring day 
we first hear the pheobe note 
of the chickadee.

March 1, 1856





 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

Two hawks scream like wind
through a crevice in the sky -
that cracked blue saucer.

March 2, 1855 

The bluebird 

The bluebird – which some 
woodchopper or inspired 
walker said to have
seen in that sunny 
interval between the snow-
storms like a speck of 
clear blue sky near the 
end of a storm reminding 
us of  a heaven 
 we had forgotten – 

bluebird comes with his warble

and drills the ice and 
sets free the rivers and ponds
 and frozen ground.  

March 2, 1859




 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

Fully blossomed cone.
Winged black seeds half fill my hand
like tiny fishes.

March 3, 1855



 

 

 

 

March 4.  

 

A hawk rises and
sails away over the Wood
as in the summer.


 

 

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

"And for the first time
I see the water looking
blue on the meadows."

March 5, 1854

 

 

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 





Slender black birches
with gracefully catkined twigs
drooping on all sides.

March 6, 1859



 

 

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

The first pleasant days
of spring come out like a squirrel
and go in again. 


 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 


See a small flock of
grackles on the willow-row
above railroad bridge.

March 8, 1860



 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

The face of nature
lit up by reflections in
still, open water.

March 9, 1854

 

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

Misty and muzzling,
weather almost April-like.
Expect to hear geese.
 March 10, 1854

 

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 


Landscape nearly bare
distant mountains white with snow,
song sparrow’s first song.

March 11, 1854

 

 

 

 

 

 

 



 

 

 

 

 


 

First open water.
Two ducks on river before
I have launched my boat.

March 12, 1855

 



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

I hear the rapid
tapping of the woodpecker
 over the water.


March 13, 1855





 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

The wind begins to
play in dark ripples over
the virgin water.

March 14, 1860

 



 

 

 

 

 

 


 

On this mild spring day 
my life partakes of bluebirds
and infinity.
March 15, 1852



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

A flock of red-wings,
how handsome as they go by,
bright scarlet shoulders

March 16, 1860



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

Whistling overhead
swift propellers of the air
flying with great force.

March 17, 1860



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

The flower in spring
expects a winged visitor
knocking at its door.

March 18, 1860



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

Sandy-bottomed brook
flowing cold from ice and snow:
fins poised over sand!

March 19, 1854



 

 

 


 

 

The life and joy of
this new ribbon of water
sparkling in the sun.

March 20, 1853



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

Thirty ducks asleep
with heads on backs, motionless –
ice forms about them.




 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

Maple twigs gnawed off
in the winter by rabbits,
the sap now flowing.


March 22, 1856





 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

Sitting on this rock
we hear the first wood frog’s croak
and begin to dream.


March 23, 1859





 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

 

Freshly cut pine wood
world of light and purity
its life oozing out.

March 24, 1853



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

Willows near Mill Brook
surprise me at a distance--
green, yellowish, red!




 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

Withered tawny grass
now brightly lit by the sun,
fore-glow of the year.

March 26,1860



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

The hazel is out
at this cold leafless season
greeting the spring.

March 27, 1853



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

Smoky maple swamps
now have a reddish tinge from
their expanding buds.
March 28, 1852 




 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

A gull of pure white
outline simple and wave-like
two curves in the air.

March 29, 1854



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

Crossing the threshold
between winter and summer,
shoes instead of boots.

March 30, 1860



 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


 

 

Distant mountain top
as blue to the memory
as now to the eyes.

March 31, 1853

 

 



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A Book of the Seasons
,
 by Henry Thoreau, March Days

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

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