Wednesday, August 26, 2026

A Book of the Seasons, The Season for Fungi


 I would make a chart of our life,
know why just this circle of creatures completes the world,
what kinds of birds come with what flowers. 

Henry Thoreau, April 18, 1852

This certainly is 
the season for fungi.
August 24, 1853

The humblest fungus 
betrays a life akin to my own.
It is a successful poem in its kind.  
October 10, 1858

August 15, 2026
(avesong)

August 7. The past has been a remarkably wet week, and now the earth is strewn with fungi. The earth itself is mouldy. I see a white mould in the path. Great toadstools stand in the woods, but the mushroom growth of a night is already attacked by many worms and insects. I see in the pasture grass in many places small white roundish fungi, like eggs. August 7, 1853

August 10. In Clintonia Swamp I see a remarkable yellow fungus about the base of some grass growing in a tuft. It is a jelly, shaped like a bodkin or a pumpkin’s stigma, two inches long, in vesting the base of the grass blades, a quarter to a half inch thick, tapering to the grass each way and covered with a sort of moist meal. It was strong-scented and disagreeable. August 10, 1857

August 14. In the low woodland paths full of rank weeds, there are countless great fungi of various forms and colors, the produce of the warm rains and muggy weather of a week ago, now rapidly dissolving. The ground is covered with foul spots where they have dissolved, and for most of my walk the air is tainted with a musty, carrion like odor, in some places very offensive, so that I at first suspected a dead horse or cow. They impress me like humors or pimples on the face of the earth, toddy- blossoms, by which it gets rid of its corrupt blood. A sort of excrement they are.It never occurred to me before to-day that those different forms belong to one species. Some I see just pushing up in the form of blunt cones, thrusting the leaves aside, and, further along, some which are perfectly flat on top, probably the same in full bloom, and others decaying and curved up into a basin at the edges. August 14, 1853

August 14. The low wood-paths are strewn with toadstools now, and I begin to perceive their musty scent, great tumbae  or, as R. W. E. says, tuguria-crowding one another by the path-side when there was not a fellow in sight; great towers that have fallen and made the plain shake; ponderous wheels that have lost their fellows, broken their axles, abandoned by the toady or swampy teamsters. Some whose eaves have been nibbled apparently by turtle. Ricketson says he saw a turtle eating a toadstool once. Some great dull-yellow towers, towers of strength, to judge from their mighty columns. August 14, 1856

August 16. Yesterday also in the Marlborough woods, perceived everywhere that offensive mustiness of decaying fungi.  August 16, 1853

August 23. The scent of decaying fungi in woods is quite offensive now in many places, like carrion even. I see many red ones eaten more or less in the paths, nibbled out on the edges. August 23, 1856

August 24. I see some black and some greenish light slate-colored fungi. This certainly is the season for fungi. August 24, 1853

August 26I perceived for the first time, this afternoon, in one place, a slight mouldy scent. There are very few fungi in a dry summer like this. August 26, 1859

August 31. An orange-colored fungus. August 31, 1853

September 1. We go admiring the pure and delicate tints of fungi on the surface of the damp swamp there, following up along the north side of the brook past the right of the old camp. There are many very beautiful lemon-yellow ones of various forms, some shaped like buttons, some becoming finely scalloped on the edge, some club-shaped and hollow, of the most delicate and rare but decided tints, contrasting well with the decaying leaves about them. There are others also pure white, others a wholesome red, others brown, and some even a light indigo-blue above and beneath and throughout. When colors come to be taught in the schools, as they should be, both the prism (or the rainbow) and these fungi should be used by way of illustration, and if the pupil does not learn colors, he may learn fungi, which perhaps is better. Sepetmber 1, 1856

September 6. Thought my great dish-cover fungus a Coprolus (?) (so called from growing in dung?). September 6, 1856

September 10. Last year, for the last three weeks of August, the woods were filled with the strong musty scent of decaying fungi, but this year I have seen very few fungi and have not noticed that odor at all. September 10, 1854

September 12.  Have seen the pigeon’s-egg fungus in pastures some time.  September 12, 1858

September 21. My red ball fungus blossoms in the path in the midst of its jelly .  September 21, 1852

September 21.And now at last I see a few toadstools, — the election-cake (the yellowish, glazed over) and the taller, brighter-yellow above. Those shell-less slugs which eat apples eat these also.  September 21, 1859

September 23. I see everywhere in the shady yew wood those pretty round-eyed fungus-spots on the upper leaves of the blue-stemmed goldenrod, contrasting with the few bright-yellow flowers above them, -- yellowish-white rings (with a slate-colored centre), surrounded by green. September 23, 1860

September 24. In Wood Thrush Path at Flint's Pond, a great many of the geiropodium fungus now shed their dust. When closed it is a roundish or conical orange-colored fungus three quarters of an inch in diameter, covered with a mucilaginous matter. It is pink-red inside and the thick outer skin of many have already curled back (it splits into segments and curls parallel to the axis of the plant) to reveal the pinkish fawn-colored puffball capped with a red dimple or crown. This is a hollow bag. When you touch it, it spurts forth a yellowish-white powder three or four inches through its orifice. September 24, 1860

October 2.  We had all our dog-days in September this year. It was too dry before, even for fungi. Only the last three weeks have we had any fungi to speak of. Nowadays I see most of the election-cake fungi, with crickets and slugs eating them. October 2, 1859

 October 4. See crickets eating the election-cake toadstools. October 4, 1858
  •      October 10, 1858 ("I find the under sides of the election-cake fungi there covered with pink-colored fleas");
  •      October 20, 1856 (“I notice, as elsewhere of late, a great many brownish-yellow (and some pink) election-cake fungi, eaten by crickets; about three inches in diameter.");
  •       October 16, 1859 ("That election-cake fungus which is still growing (as for some months)      appears to be a Boletus"); 
  •       October 20, 1857 ("I see the yellowish election-cake fungi.");
  •       October 29, 1855 ("There are many fresh election-cake toadstools amid the pitch pine”);
  •      See also Concord: A Sense of Place, October 20, 2015, Election-cake Fungus Mystery.
October 5. This before they are turned to dust. Large chocolate-colored ones have long since burst and are spread out wide like a shallow dish. October 5, 1856

October 10. I find the under sides of the election-cake fungi there covered with pink-colored fleas, apparently poduras, skipping about when it is turned up to the light. The simplest and most lumpish fungus has a peculiar interest to us, compared with a mere mass of earth, because it is so obviously organic and related to ourselves, however mute. It is the expression of an idea; growth according to a law; matter not dormant, not raw, but inspired, appropriated by spirit. If I take up a handful of earth, however separately interesting the particles may be, their relation to one another appears to be that of mere juxtaposition generally. I might have thrown them together thus. But the humblest fungus betrays a life akin to my own. It is a successful poem in its kind. There is suggested something superior to any particle of matter, in the idea or mind which uses and arranges the particles. October 10, 1858

October 11.  I find that the rough, white, crystalled-surfaced pigeon-egg fungus (one was noticed in report of October 5th) are puffballs. The outer thick white coat peels off first. I see it so now, but not in segments like the stellata. October 11, 1856

October 14. That coarse yellowish fungus is very common in the paths in woods of late, for a month, often picked by birds, often decayed, often mashed by the foot like a piece of pumpkin, defiling and yellowing the grass, as if a liquor (or dust) distilled from them. October 14, 1852

October 14At the head of the path by the pond, I saw a red squirrel, only a rod off in a white pine, eating a toadstool. It was a slightly convex white disk, (then) two inches in diameter. I saw where he had bitten off its white stump within a few feet of the base of the tree. I should not have called it an edible one; but he knows. He held it vertically with a paw on each side and what had been the lower side toward him, and was nibbling off the inside edge very fast, turning it round from time to time and letting some fragments drop, pausing to look at me. As a boy might nibble a biscuit. Are nuts scarce? I think it was not the edible one; was too big.  October 14, 1857

October 15  I saw the other day a cricket standing on his head in a chocolate-colored (inside) fungus, only his tail-yards visible. He had sunk a well an inch deep, and was even then sinking it, perpendicularly, unconscious of what was going on above. October 15, 1857 

October 16. On the south side of the Turnpike, just below Everett's meadow, a rare and remarkable fungus, such as I have heard of but never seen before. The whole height six and three quarters inches, two thirds of it being buried in the sphagnum. It may be divided into three parts, pileus, stem, and base, — or scrotum, for it is a perfect phallus. One of those fungi named impudicus, I think. This is very similar to if not the same with that represented in Loudon's Encyclopedia and called "Phallus impudicus, Stinking Morel, very fetid." In all respects a most disgusting object, yet very suggestive . . . October 16, 1856

October 17Notice some of the fungus called spunk, very large, on the large white oak in Love Lane, eight or nine feet from the ground on the east side, on a protuberance where a limb was formerly cut off. It is now green and moist, of a yellowish color, composed of several flakes one above the other; the length of the shelf, or chord of the arc, twenty-one inches; depth from the tree, or width of shelf, about one foot. October 17, 1856

October 20. Amid the young pitch pines in the pasture behind I notice, as elsewhere of late, a great many brownish-yellow (and some pink) election-cake fungi, eaten by crickets; about three inches in diameter. Some of those spread chocolate-colored ones have many grubs in them, though dry and dusty. October 20, 1856

October 20. I see the yellowish election-cake fungi. October 20, 1857

October 22. The rain and dampness have given birth to a new crop of mushrooms. October 22, 1851

October 27. See nowadays concave chocolate-colored fungi passing into dust on the edges, close on the ground in pastures. October 27, 1853

October 29. There are many fresh election-cake toadstools amid the pitch pine. October 29, 1855

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 © 2009-2026

Tuesday, August 18, 2026

A Book of the Seasons: A Pleasing Melancholy


A year is made up of a certain series and 
number of sensations and thoughts 
which have their language in nature . . .
 Each experience reduces itself to a mood of the mind. 
Henry Thoreau, June 6, 1857

I hear a cricket
and am penetrated with 
the sense of autumn. 
August 4, 1851

A sound reminds me
past autumns, lapse of time – so
little brought to pass.
August 18, 1856

May 24. Our most glorious experiences are a kind of regret . . . the painful, plaintively sad surprise of our Genius remembering our past lives and contemplating what is possible . . . it is glorious for us to be able to regret even such an existence.  May 24, 1851

July 31.  I hear the distant sound of a flail, and thoughts of autumn occupy my mind, and the memory of past years. July 31, 1856

August 17  I feel as if this coolness would do me good. If it only makes my life more pensive! Why should pensiveness be akin to sadness? There is a certain fertile sadness which I would not avoid, but rather earnestly seek. It is positively joyful to me. It saves my life from being trivial. My life flows with a deeper current, no longer as a shallow and brawling stream, parched and shrunken by the summer heats. This coolness comes to condense the dews and clear the atmosphere. August 17, 1851

August 18. It plainly makes men sad to think. Hence pensiveness is akin to sadness.  August 18, 1851

August 18. What means this sense of lateness that so comes over one now? — now is the season of fruits; but where is our fruit? August 18, 1853 

August 18.  I hear the steady (not intermittent) shrilling of apparently the alder cricket, clear, loud, and autumnal, a season sound. Hear it, but see it not. It reminds me of past autumns and the lapse of time, suggests a pleasing, thoughtful melancholy, like the sound of the flail.  Such preparation, such an outfit has our life, and so little brought to pass!  August 18, 1856 

August 20.  There is more shadow in the landscape than a week ago, methinks, and the creak of the cricket sounds cool and steady. The grass and foliage and landscape generally are of a more thought-inspiring color, suggest what some perchance would call a pleasing melancholy. August 20, 1858

August 28In my experience, at least of late years, all that depresses a man's spirits is the sense of remissness, — duties neglected, unfaithfulness, — or shamming, impurity, falsehood, selfishness, inhumanity, and the like.  August 28, 1854

August 28Perchance you have worried yourself, despaired of the world, meditated the end of life, and all things seemed rushing to destruction; but nature has steadily and serenely advanced with a turtle's pace. August 28, 1856

October 26. I awoke this morning to infinite regret. October 26, 1851

October 31. I hear the sound of the flailing . . . and gradually draw near to it from the woods, thinking many things.  October 31, 1860

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 ©  2009-2026

https://tinyurl.com/hdtmelancholy





Monday, July 27, 2026

A Book of the Seasons: Zizania (Wild Rice)

 [Zizania aquatica var. aquatica (Annual wild rice)]

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

 Tall and slender
 zizania panicle 
waving on the shore.

 Annually we 
gather wild rice with grateful 
awe, like Chippewas. 

By the water's edge
the zizania stands still, 
spires empty of grain.


July 22. Zizania, a day, with a handsome light-green panicle a foot or more long, a long slender stem, and corn-like leaves frequently more than an inch wide. July 22, 1854 
July 24. The zizania, some days . . . At least two kinds of grass as tall as the zizania have preceded it along the river. July 24, 1853
July 27 Zizania scarce out some days at least. July 27, 1856
August 6. Interesting here and there the tall and slender zizania waving on the shore, with its light panicle eighteen inches or more in length. August 6, 1854
August 12. Zizania several days. August 12, 1860
August 14.  The zizania now makes quite a show along the river. August 14, 1859

August 15. Wild [rice], apparently in prime. This is quite interesting and handsome, so tall and loose. The lower, spreading and loosely drooping, dangling or blown one side like a flag, staminate branches of its ample panicle are of a lively yellowish green, contrasting with the very distant upright pistillate branches, suggesting a spear with a small flag at the base of its head. It is our wild grain, unharvested. August 15, 1858
August 16. Zizania aquatica, Indian or Canadian rice, or water oats, like slender corn. How long? August 16, 1852
August 18. The zizania on the north side of the river near the Holt, or meadow watering-place, is very conspicuous and abundant. August 18, 1854  
August 20. The zizania is pretty abundant in the river, in rear of Joseph Hosmer's . . . Very many water-plants – pontederias, lilies, zizania, etc., etc. – are now going to seed, prepared to feed the migrating waterfowl, etc. August 20, 1854
August 24. The zizania is the greater part out of bloom; i. e., the yellowish - anthered (?) stamens are gone; the wind has blown them away. August 24, 1858
September 2 We are dwelling amid these wild plants still, we are eating the huckleberries which lately only the Indian ate and dried, we are raising and eating his wild and nutritive maize, and if we have imported wheat, it is but our wild rice, which we annually gather with grateful awe, like Chippewas. September 2, 1856
September 3.  Zizania still. September 3, 1858
September 5.  I find some zizania grains almost black. September 5, 1854
September 15. The grain of the wild rice is all green yet. September 15, 1859
September 16. See no zizania seed ripe, or black, yet, but almost all is fallen. September 16, 1860
September 24. The zizania ripe, shining black, cylindrical kernels, five eighths of an inch long. September 24, 1852
September 25. The zizania fruit is green yet, but mostly dropped or plucked. Does it fall, or do birds pluck it? September 25, 1858
September 30. The wild rice is almost entirely fallen or eaten, apparently by some insect, but I see some green and also black grains left. September 30, 1859
October 25. The sheen on the water blinds my eyes. The zizania stands still, with its slender spires empty of grain, by the water's edge. October 25, 1852

See also:.
Northern woodlands, New England’s Wild Rice ("The season for gathering rice is short, about 10 to 14 days at the beginning of September.")
Vermont Fish and Wildllife Department, Wild Rice Marsh ("Flowers are borne in a large panicle at the top of the plant, with male flowers on the lower spreading branches of the panicle and the female flowers at the top. The dark grain, or caryopsis, of wild rice matures in the early fall")
US Forest Service, Annual Wildrice

Illustration by Adelaide Tyrol


A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Zizania (wild rice)
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 ©  2009-2026

Friday, July 10, 2026

A Book of the Seasons: Green Berries


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

It is but a step
from flowers to fruit – the size
of these green berries!

May 19.  With what unobserved secure dispatch nature advances! The amelanchiers have bloomed, and already both kinds have shed their blossoms and show minute green fruit. There is not an instant's pause! May 19, 1854 

May 30.  I see now green high blueberries, and gooseberries in Hubbard's Close, as well as shad-bush berries and strawberries.   May 30, 1854

June 6. The earliest blueberries are now forming as greenberries. June 6, 1852

June 7. I am surprised at the size of green berries, -- shad-bush, low blueberries, choke-cherries, etc., etc. It is but a step from flowers to fruit. June 7, 1854

June 19. Notice green berries, — blueberries and huckleberries. June 19, 1859

June 27.   That tree-like cornel by the Heywood Meadow Brook, now showing green fruit, must be the alternate- leaved cornel. June 27, 1852

Alternate-leaf dogwood
July 10, 2026
Partridge-berry
July 10, 2026

Blueberry
July 11, 2026

July 22.  The green berries of the arum are seen . . . and the round green-pea-sized green berries of the axil-flowering Solomon's-seal.  July 22, 1852

July 24. The medeola is still in flower, though with large green berries . . . A spikenard just beyond the spring has already pretty large green berries, though a few flowers. July 24, 1853

August 2. I am not sure but the bunches of the smooth sumach berries are handsomest when but partly turned, the crimson contrasting with the green, the green berries showing a velvety crimson cheek. August 2, 1853

August 27. The Medeola Virginica, cucumber-root, the whorl-leaved plant, is now in green fruit. August 27, 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 ©  2009-2026

https://tinyurl.com/hdt-greenberries

Friday, June 12, 2026

A Book of the Seasons: Blue-eyed Grass

 

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

The blue-eyed grass is
one of the most beautiful of flowers . . .
It will bear to be praised by poets. 

Flowers were made to be seen,
not overlooked. Their bright colors
imply eyes, spectators. 
June 15, 1852

Blue patches began to appear,
answering to the blue sky.
June 17. 1853

May 27.  Blue-eyed grass out. May 27, 1859

May 29. Barberry in bloom, wild pinks, and blue-eyed grass May 29, 1852

May 29. That exceedingly neat and interesting little flower blue-eyed grass now claims our attention. May 29, 1853

May 29.  Blue-eyed grass, probably to-morrow. May 29, 1856

May 31.  Blue-eyed grass, apparently in pretty good season. May 31, 1854

June 6. Blue-eyed grass maybe several days in some places.  June 6, 1855

June 12.   The blue-eyed grass is one of the most beautiful of flowers. It might have been famous from Proserpine down. It will bear to be praised by poets.  June 12, 1852

June 15. The blue-eyed grass, well named, looks up to heaven. June 15, 1851

June 15. The fields are blued with blue-eyed grass, — a slaty blue. June 15, 1852

June 15. Blue-eyed grass at height. June 15, 1859 

June 17. The dense fields of blue-eyed grass now blue the meadows, as if, in this fair season of the year, the clouds that envelop the earth were dispersing, and blue patches began to appear, answering to the blue sky. The eyes pass from these blue patches into the surrounding green as from the patches of clear sky into the clouds. June 17. 1853

June 19.  I see large patches of blue-eyed grass in the meadow across the river from my window. June 19, 1853 

June 20.  The blue-eyed grass is shut up. When does it open? June 20, 1852

June 26. The blue-eyed grass, now in its prime, occupies the drier and harder parts of the meadow, where I can walk dry-shod, but where the coarser sedge grows and it is lower and wetter there is none of it. I keep dry by following this blue guide, and the grass is not very high about it. You cross the meadows dry-shod by following the winding lead of the blue-eyed grass, which grows only on the firmer, more elevated, and drier parts. June 26, 1860

July 3.   I noticed the other day, I think the 30th, a large patch of Agrostis scabrain E. Hosmer's meadow, — the firmer ridges, — a very interesting purple with its fine waving top, mixed with blue-eyed grass.  July 3, 1859

July 6. Blue-eyed grass is now rarely seen. July 6, 1851

August 13.  Some of the little cranberries at Gowing's Swamp appear to have been frost-bitten. Also the blue-eyed grass, which is now black-topped.  August 13, 1860

August 25. Blue-eyed grass still. August 25, 1851

August 30. Blue-eyed grass still.  August 30, 1854

September 11. Blue-eyed grass still. September 11, 1851

September 23.  So live that only the most beautiful wild-flowers will spring up where you have dwelt, – harebells, violets, and blue-eyed grass. September 23, 1859

See also Northern Woodlands, The Blue-eyed Grasses

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau,  Blue-eyed Grass
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 ©  2009-2026

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