Thursday, October 17, 2024

A Book of the Seasons:The Evergreen Ferns, Polypody, Marginal Shield Fern, Terminal Shield fern


 Polypodium vulgare or Polypodium Dryopterisi (common polypody),
A. marginale or Dryopteris marginalis (marginal shield fern or marginal woodfern) 
& Aspidium achrostichoides (terminal shield fern or Christmas fern)

I would make a chart of our life,
know why just this circle of creatures completes the world.
Henry Thoreau, April 18, 1852

I now take notice of
the green polypody on the rock
 and various other ferns, one the marginal shield fern 
and one the terminal shield fern.
November 16, 1853

My thoughts are with the
 polypody a long time after 
my body has passed.
November 2, 1857

Almost every plant, however humble, has thus its day,
and sooner or later becomes the characteristic feature
of some part of the landscape or other.
September 10, 1860


March 17. Rocky islands covered with green lichens and with polypody half submerged rise directly from the water. March 17, 1859

April 27. I  see, close under the rocks at Lee's, some new polypody flatted out. April 27, 1860

May 5. The marginal shield fern is one foot high here [Lee's Cliff].  May 5, 1860

May 13.  What is that fern so common at Lee's Cliff, now sprung up a foot high with a very chaffy stem? Marginal shield? Is that Polypodium Dryopterisi n the bank behind the slippery elm? Now six or seven inches high. May 13,1860

July 17.  I found yesterday, at and above the Hemlocks on the Assabet, the dicksonia, apparently in prime; Aspidium Noveboracense  Aspidium marginale, apparently in prime; Osmunda Claytoniana and cinnamomea, done I find to-day, at Bittern Cliff and at Lee's, Asplenium ebeneum (the larger), apparently nearly in prime, and A. Trichomanes, apparently just begun. This very commonly occurs in tufts at the base of the last, like radical leaves to it. At Lee's Cliff, Polypodium vulgare, not yet brown fruit. July 17, 1857

July 29. Brister's Hill. There are some beautiful glossy, firm ferns there, – Polytichum acrostichoides (?), shield fern. Nature made ferns for pure leaves, to show what she could do in that line.  July 29, 1853

August 30. I find at this time in fruit: (1) Polypodium vulgare . . . (5) Asplenium Trichomanes (dwarf spleenwort), also (6) A. ebeneum (ebony spleenwort) . . . (8) Dryopteris marginalis  (marginal shield fern), (9) Polystichum acrostichoides (terminal shield fern) . . . Nos . 1, 5, 6, and 8 common at Lee's Cliff.  No. . . . 9 at Brister's Hill. August 30, 1853 

September 4. At the cleft rock by the hill just west of this swamp, — call it Cornel Rock, – I found apparently Aspidium cristatum (?), q. v.  That is an interesting spot . . . There is quite a collection of rare plants there, – petty morel, Thalictrum dioicum, witch hazel, etc., Rhus radicans, maple-leaved viburnum, polypody, Polygonum dumetorum, anychia. There was a strawberry vine falling over the perpendicular face of the rock.  September 4, 1857

September 8 . Gathered on this walk the Polypodium Dryopteris and Polystichum acrostichoides September 8, 1856

September 25. The terminal shield fern and the Aspidium spinulosum (?) are still fresh and green, the first as much so as the polypody. September 25, 1859

September 30 Ever since the unusually early and severe frost of the 16th, the evergreen ferns have been growing more and more distinct amid the fading and decaying and withering ones, and the sight of those suggests a cooler season. They are greener than ever, by contrast. The terminal shield fern is one of the handsomest. The most decidedly evergreen are the last, polypody, Aspidium marginale, and Aspidium spinulosum of Woodis Swamp and Brister's  . . .
Of the twenty-three ferns which I seem to know here, seven may be called evergreens.  September 30, 1859

October 17, 2024

October 23. The ferns which I can see on the bank, apparently all evergreens, are polypody at rock, marginal shield fern, terminal shield fern, and (I think it is) Aspidium spinulosum . . . The above-named evergreen ferns are so much the more conspicuous on that pale-brown ground. They stand out all at once and are seen to be evergreen; their character appears. October 23, 1857

October 28.  I now begin to notice the evergreen ferns, when the others are all withered or fallen. October 28, 1858

October 29. With the fall of the white pine, etc., the Pyrola umbellata and the lycopodiums, and even evergreen ferns, suddenly emerge as from obscurity. If these plants are to be evergreen, how much they require this brown and withered carpet to be spread under them for effect. Now, too, the light is let in to show them. October 29, 1858


Polypody, November 4, 2022


November 2It is very pleasant and cheerful nowadays, when the brown and withered leaves strew the ground and almost every plant is fallen or withered, to come upon a patch of polypody on some rocky hillside in the woods, —as in abundance on hillside between Calla Swamp and Bateman’s Pond, and still more same hillside east of the callas, —where, in the midst of the dry and rustling leaves, defying frost, it stands so freshly green and full of life.  The mere greenness, which was not remarkable in the summer, is positively interesting now. 

My thoughts are with the polypody a long time after my body has passed.
The brakes, the sarsaparilla, the osmundas, the Solomon’s-seals, the lady's slippers have long since withered and fallen. The huckleberries and blueberries, too, have lost their leaves. The forest floor is covered with a thick coat of moist brown leaves. But what is that perennial and spring like verdure that clothes the rocks, of small green plumes pointing various ways? It is the cheerful community of the polypody. 
It survives at least as the type of vegetation, to remind us of the spring which shall not fail. These are the green pastures where I browse now. 
Why is not this form copied by our sculptors instead of the foreign acanthus leaves and bays? The sight of this unwithering green leaf excites me like red at some seasons.  I don’t care for acanthus leaves; they are far-fetched. I do love this form, however, and would like to see it painted or sculptured, whether on your marble or my butter. How fit for a tuft about the base of a column! 
. . .
The evergreen ferns and lycopodiums now have their day; now is the flower of their age, and their greenness is appreciated. They are much the clearest and most liquid green in the woods . . . 
The form of the polypody is strangely interesting; it is even outlandish. Some forms, though common in our midst, are thus perennially foreign as the growths of other latitudes; there being a greater interval between us and their kind than usual. We all feel the ferns to be further from us, essentially and sympathetically, than the phaenogamous plants, the roses and weeds, for instance. It needs no geology nor botany to assure us of that. We feel it, and told them of it first. 
The bare outline of the polypody thrills me strangely. It is a strange type which I cannot read. It only piques me. Simple as it is, it is as strange as an Oriental character. It is quite independent of my race, and of the Indian, and all mankind. It is a fabulous, mythological form, such as prevailed when the earth and air and water were inhabited by those extinct fossil creatures that we find. It is contemporary with them, and affects as the sight of them. November 2, 1857

November 5Sometimes I would rather get a transient glimpse or side view of a thing than stand fronting to it, — as those polypodies.
 The object I caught a glimpse of as I went by haunts my thoughts a long time, is infinitely suggestive, and I do not care to front it and scrutinize it, for I know that the thing that really concerns me is not there, but in my relation to that. That is a mere reflecting surface. 
It is not the polypody in my pitcher or herbarium, or which I may possibly persuade to grow on a bank in my yard, or which is described in botanies, that interests me, but the one that I pass by in my walks a little distance off, when in the right mood. Its influence is sporadic, wafted through the air to me. Do you imagine its fruit to stick to the back of the leaf all winter?

At this season polypody is in the air.  November 5, 1857

November 5.  It is worth the while to walk in swamps now, to bathe your eyes with greenness. The terminal shield fern is the handsomest and glossiest green.  November 5, 1857

Rock Polypody
November 2, 2023

November 15.  To Grackle Swamp.  A very fine snow falling, just enough to whiten the bare spots a little. I go to look for evergreen ferns before they are covered up. The end of last month and the first part of this is the time. I do not know that I find more than one kind now in that swamp, and of that the fertile fronds are mostly decayed. All lie flat, ready to be buried in snow . . . Gossamer, methinks, belongs to the latter part of October and first part of November; also the . . . evergreen ferns. November 15, 1858

November 16. I now take notice of the green polypody on the rock and various other ferns, one the marginal (?) shield fern and one the terminal shield fern, and this other, here inserted, on the steep bank above the Hemlocks. November 16, 1853

November 16 The lycopodium dendroideum, complanatum, and lucidulum, and the terminal shield fern are also very interesting.  November 16, 1858 

November 17. The polypody on the rock is much shrivelled by the late cold. The edges are curled up, and it is not nearly so fair as it was ten days ago. November 17, 1858 

November 17.  As for the evergreen ferns, I see now —Common polypody (though shrivelled by cold where exposed). Asplenium trichomanes. A. ebeneum. Aspidium spinulosum (?) large frond, small-fruited, in swamp southeast Brister’s Spring, on 16th. A. cristatum (?), Grackle Swamp on the 15th, with oftener what I take to be the narrower and more open sterile frond. A. marginale (common). A. achrostichoides (terminal shield).  The first one and the last two are particularly handsome, the last especially, it has so thick a frond. November 17, 1858 

December 7.  The terminal shield fern is quite fresh and green, and a common thin fern, though fallen.  December 7, 1853

December 23.  At Lee’s Cliff I notice these radical leaves quite fresh: saxifrage, sorrel, polypody, mullein, columbine, veronica, thyme-leaved sandwort, spleenwort, strawberry, buttercup, radical johnswort, mouse-ear, radical pinweeds, cinquefoils, checkerberry, Wintergreen, thistles, catnip, Turritis stricta especially fresh and bright.   December 23, 1855 

January 23. I see the terminal shield fern very fresh, as an evergreen, at Saw Mill Brook, and (I think it is) the marginal fern and Lycopodium lucidulumJanuary 23, 1858

See also:

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Evergreen Ferns, Part One: Maidenhair and Ebony Spleenwort;

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Evergreen Ferns, Part Two: Aspidium spinulosum  & Aspidium cristatum

I begin now to
notice the evergreen ferns –
when others wither.

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Evergreen Ferns, Part Three:

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-polypody

Wednesday, October 16, 2024

A Book of the Seasons: The Evergreen Ferns, Aspidium spinulosum & Aspidium cristatum

 [Asplenium spinulosum (spinulose woodfern

Asplenium cristatum  (crested woodfern)]


I would make a chart of our life,
know why just this circle of creatures completes the world.
Henry Thoreau, April 18, 1852

I see two kinds of ferns still green and much in fruit,
apparently the Aspidium spinulosum (?) and cristatum (?) . . .
What virtue is theirs that enables them to resist the frost? 

Almost every plant, however humble, has thus its day,
and sooner or later becomes the characteristic feature
of some part of the landscape or other.
September 10, 1860


Aspidium spinulosum


September 30. Of the twenty-three ferns which I seem to know here, seven may be called evergreens September 30, 1859 

October 15. That appears to be Aspidium cristatum which I find evergreen in swamps, but no fertile fronds now . . .  It cannot be a described variety of spinulosum, for it is only once pinnate.  October 15, 1859


October 23. The ferns which I can see on the bank, apparently all evergreens, are polypody at rock, marginal shield fern, terminal shield fern, and (I think it is) Aspidium spinulosum, which I had not identified. Apparently Aspidium cristatum elsewhere. October 23, 1857


October 31. In the Lee farm swamp, by the old Sam Barrett mill site, I see two kinds of ferns still green and much in fruit, apparently the Aspidium spinulosum (?) and cristatum (?). They are also common in other swamps now.

They are quite fresh in those cold and wet places and almost flattened down now. The atmosphere of the house is less congenial to them. In the summer you might not have noticed them. Now they are conspicuous amid the withered leaves. 


You are inclined to approach and raise each frond in succession, moist, trembling, fragile greenness. They linger thus in all moist clammy swamps under the bare maples and grape-vines and witch-hazels, and about each trickling spring which is half choked with fallen leaves. 


What means this persistent vitality, invulnerable to frost and wet? Why were these spared when the brakes and osmundas were stricken down? They stay as if to keep up the spirits of the cold-blooded frogs which have not yet gone into the mud; that the summer may die with decent and graceful moderation, gradually.


 Is not the water of the spring improved by their presence? They fall back and droop here and there, like the plumes of departing summer, — of the departing year.


 Even in them I feel an argument for immortality. Death is so far from being universal. The same destroyer does not destroy all. How valuable they are (with the lycopodiums) for cheerfulness. Greenness at the end of the year, after the fall of the leaf, as in a hale old age. 


To my eyes they are tall and noble as palm groves, and always some forest noble-ness seems to have its haunt under their umbrage. Each such green tuft of ferns is a grove where some nobility dwells and walks. All that was immortal in the swamp's herbage seems here crowded into smaller compass, the concentrated greenness of the swamp. 


How dear they must be to the chickadee and the rabbit! The cool, slowly retreating rearguard of the swamp army. 

What virtue is theirs that enables them to resist the frost?  October 31, 1857


November 15.  To Grackle Swamp.  A very fine snow falling, just enough to whiten the bare spots a little. I go to look for evergreen ferns before they are covered up. The end of last month and the first part of this is the time. I do not know that I find more than one kind now in that swamp, and of that the fertile fronds are mostly decayed. All lie flat, ready to be buried in snow . . . Gossamer, methinks, belongs to the latter part of October and first part of November; also the . . . evergreen ferns. November 15, 1858 

November 17. As for the evergreen ferns, I see now —Common polypody (though shrivelled by cold where exposed). Asplenium trichomanes. A. ebeneum. Aspidium spinulosum (?) large frond, small-fruited, in swamp southeast Brister’s Spring, on 16th. A. cristatum (?), Grackle Swamp on the 15th, with oftener what I take to be the narrower and more open sterile frond. A. marginale (common). A. achrostichoides (terminal shield).  The first one and the last two are particularly handsome, the last especially, it has so thick a frond. November 17, 1858 


See also 
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Evergreen Ferns, Part One: Maidenhair and Ebony Spleenwort;

Evergreen wood ferns –
plumes of departing summer,
the departing year.

A Book of the Seasons
,  by Henry Thoreau, The Evergreen Ferns, Part Two: 
Aspidium spinulosum  & Aspidium cristatum

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-woodferns

Wednesday, October 9, 2024

A Book of the Seasons: The Evergreen Ferns, Maidenhair and Ebony Spleenwort

 [Asplenium trichomanes (Maidenhair spleenwort) 

Asplenium ebeneum or Asplenium platyneuron (Ebony Spleenwort)]


I would make a chart of our life,
know why just this circle of creatures completes the world.
Henry Thoreau, April 18, 1852

I go along under the east side of Lee's Cliff, looking at the evergreen ferns . . .
How pretty the smallest asplenium sometimes, in a recess under a shelving rock,
as it were pinned on rosettewise, as if it were the head of a breastpin.
November 18, 1858 

Almost every plant, however humble, has thus its day,
and sooner or later becomes the characteristic feature
of some part of the landscape or other.
September 10, 1860

Rock Polypody & Maidenhair spleenwort
(Polypodium vulgare & AspidiumTrichomanes,)
September, 2018

September 30. Of the twenty-three ferns which I seem to know here, seven may be called evergreens. September 30, 1859

November 17 As for the evergreen ferns, I see now —Common polypody (though shrivelled by cold where exposed). Asplenium trichomanes. A. ebeneum. Aspidium spinulosum (?) large frond, small-fruited, in swamp southeast Brister’s Spring, on 16th. A. cristatum (?), Grackle Swamp on the 15th, with oftener what I take to be the narrower and more open sterile frond.  A. marginale (common). A. achrostichoides (terminal shield) November 17, 1858 

February 2.  We stop awhile under Bittern Cliff, the south side, where it is very warm. There are a few greenish radical leaves to be seen, — primrose and johnswort, strawberry, etc., and spleenwort still green in the clefts.  February 2, 1854

April 6
.  Asplenium ferns of both species are very generally perfectly withered and shrivelled. April 6, 1858

July 17. I find to-day, at Bittern Cliff and at Lee's, Asplenium ebeneum (the larger), apparently nearly in prime, and A. Trichomanes, apparently just begun. This very commonly occurs in tufts at the base of the last, like radical leaves to it. July 17, 1857

August 10.  Is not that small narrow fern I find on Conantum about rocks ebony spleenwort? Now in fruit. August 10, 1853

August 30. The dwarf spleenwort grows in the sharp angles of the rocks in the side of Lee's Cliff, its small fronds spreading in curved rays, its matted roots coming away in triangular masses, moulded by the rock. The ebony spleenwort stands upright against the rocks.  August 30, 1853

October 28.  Both aspleniums and the small botrychium are still fresh, as if they were evergreen. The latter sheds pollen. The former are most fresh under the shelter of rocks. October 28, 1857

November 17. As for the evergreen ferns, I see now —Common polypody (though shrivelled by cold where exposed). Asplenium trichomanes. A. ebeneum. Aspidium spinulosum (?) large frond, small-fruited, in swamp southeast Brister’s Spring, on 16th. A. cristatum (?), Grackle Swamp on the 15th, with oftener what I take to be the narrower and more open sterile frond. A. marginale (common). A. achrostichoides (terminal shield).  The first one and the last two are particularly handsome, the last especially, it has so thick a frond. November 17, 1858 

November 18. I go along under the east side of Lee’s Cliff, looking at the evergreen ferns. The marginal fern is the commonest. How pretty the smallest asplenium sometimes, in a recess under a shelving rock, as it were pinned on rosettewise, as if it were the head of a breastpin. November 18, 1858 


See also 
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Evergreen Ferns, Part Two:Aspidium spinulosum & Aspidium cristatum;
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Evergreen Ferns Part Three: Polypody, Marginal Shield Fern, Terminal Sheild Fern

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Evergreen Ferns, Part One: Maidenhair and Ebony Spleenwort

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

Tuesday, October 8, 2024

The wildest sound I ever heard.



October 8, 2020

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. I pursued with a paddle and he dived, but when he came up I was nearer than before. He dived again, but I miscalculated the direction he would take, and we were fifty rods apart when he came up, and again he laughed long and loud. He managed very cunningly, and I could not get within half a dozen rods of him. 

Sometimes he would come up unexpectedly on the opposite side of me, as if he had passed directly under the boat. So long-winded was he, so unweariable, that he would immediately plunge again, and then no wit could divine where in the deep pond, beneath the smooth surface, he might be speeding his way like a fish, perchance passing under the boat. He had time and ability to visit the bottom of the pond in its deepest part. 

A newspaper authority says a fisherman – giving his name – has caught loon in Seneca Lake, N. Y., eighty feet beneath the surface, with hooks set for trout. Miss Cooper has said the same. 

Yet he appeared to know his course as surely under water as on the surface, and swam much faster there than he sailed on the surface. It was surprising how serenely he sailed off with unruffled bosom when he came to the surface. It was as well for me to rest on my oars and await his reappearing as to endeavor to calculate where he would come up. 

When I was straining my eyes over the surface, I would suddenly be startled by his unearthly laugh behind me. But why, after displaying so much cunning, did he betray himself the moment he came to the surface with that loud laugh? His white breast enough betrayed him. He was indeed a silly loon, I thought.

Though he took all this pains to avoid me, he never failed to give notice of his whereabouts the moment he came to the surface. After an hour he seemed as fresh as ever, dived as willingly, and swam yet farther than at first. 

Once or twice I saw a ripple where he approached the surface, just put his head out to reconnoitre, and instantly dived again. I could commonly hear the plash of the water when he came up, and so also detected him. 

It was commonly a demoniac laughter, yet somewhat like a water-bird, but occasionally, when he had balked me most successfully and come up a long way off, he uttered a long-drawn unearthly howl, probably more like a wolf than any other bird. This was his looning.

As when a beast puts his muzzle to the ground and deliberately howls; perhaps the wildest sound I ever heard, making the woods ring; and I concluded that he laughed in derision of my efforts, confident of his own resources. 

Though the sky was overcast, the pond was so smooth that I could see where he broke the surface if I did not hear him. His white breast, the stillness of the air, the smoothness of the water, were all against [him]. At length, having come up fifty rods off, he uttered one of those prolonged unearthly howls, as if calling on the god of loons to aid him, and immediately there came a wind from the east and rippled the surface, and filled the whole air with misty rain. 

I was impressed as if it were the prayer of the loon and his god was angry with me. How surprised must be the fishes to see this ungainly visitant from another sphere speeding his way amid their schools! I have never seen more than one at a time in our pond, and I believe that that is always a male.

 H. D. Thoreau, Journal, October 8, 1852

Today HDT records in his Journal the story of the loon diving and dodging him on Walden that is to be incorporated into "Walden." See also October 3, 1852 ("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. "), The Maine Woods (" In the middle of the night, as indeed each time that we lay on the shore of a lake, we heard the voice of the loon, loud and distinct, from far over the lake. It is a very wild sound, quite in keeping with t
he place and the circumstances.") and A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Perfect autumn. Walden

October 8.  See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, October 8

Maples by the shore
extending their red banners
over the water.


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-wild

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