I observe this morning the dew on the grass in our yard. Each dewdrop is a delicate crystalline sphere trembling at the tip of a fresh green grass-blade.
Each dewdrop takes the form of the planet itself. The surface of the globe is thus tremblingly alive.
2 P.M. – 82°; this and the last two days remarkably warm.
At Holden Swamp, hear plenty of parti-colored warblers (tweezer-birds) and redstarts.
The swamp is so dry that I walk about it in my shoes.
At Holden Swamp, hear plenty of parti-colored warblers (tweezer-birds) and redstarts.
The swamp is so dry that I walk about it in my shoes.
It is a remarkable day for this season. You have the heat of summer before the leaves have expanded. The sky is full of glowing summer cumuli. There is no haze; the mountains are seen with perfect distinctness.
It is so warm that I hear the peculiar sprayey note of the toad generally at night.
The third sultry evening in my chamber. A faint lightning is seen in the north horizon.
The third sultry evening in my chamber. A faint lightning is seen in the north horizon.
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, May 13, 1860
I observe this morning the dew on the grass in our yard. See May 13, 1852 ("A May storm, yesterday and to-day . . . The fields are green now, and all the expanding leaves and flower-buds are much more beautiful in the rain, - covered with clear drops.") See also May 11, 1852 ("I find on examining, a small, clear drop at the end of each blade, quite at the top on one side.“)
This dewdrop world
Is but a dewdrop world
And yet, and yet
At Holden Swamp, hear plenty of parti-colored warblers (tweezer-birds) and redstarts. See note to May 13, 1856 (“At the swamp, hear the yorrick of Wilson’s thrush; the tweezer-bird or Sylvia Americana. Also the oven-bird sings.”)
May 13. I observe this morning the dew on the grass in our
yard. — literally sparkling drops. which thickly stud it. Each dewdrop is a
beautiful crystalline sphere just below (within an eighth of an inch more or
less) the tip of the blade. Sometimes there are two or three. one beneath the
other. the lowest the largest. Each dewdrop takes the form of the planet itself.
What an advance is this from the sere. withered. and flattened grass. at most
whitened with frost. which we have lately known. to this delicate crystalline
drop trembling at the tip of a fresh green grass-blade. The surface of the globe
is thus tremblingly alive.
A great many apple trees out. and probably some for two days.
2 P. M. — 82° ; warmest day yet. This and the last two days
remarkably warm. Need a half-thick coat ; sit and sleep with open window. the
13th.
Row to Bittern Cliff. The celtis is not yet in bloom. The
river is now six and fifteen sixteenths inches below summer level.
At Clamshell. one
cerastium flower quite done and dry.
Ranunculus bulbosus abundant. spotting the bank ;
maybe a week. Tall buttercup.
Horsemint seen springing up for a week. and refreshing scent.
Hear several
bobolinks distinctly to-day.
Hear the pebbly notes
of the frog.
See the coarse green rank canary grass' springing up amid
the bare brown button-bushes and willows.
Red wings are evidently busy building their nests. They are
sly and anxious, the females. about the button-bushes.
See two crows pursuing and diving at a hen-hawk very high in
the air over the river. He is steadily circling and rising. While they, getting
above, dive down toward him. passing within a foot or two. making a feint. he
merely winks, as it were, bends or jerks his wings slightly as if a little
startled. but never ceases soaring. nor once turns to pursue or shake them off.
It seemed as if he was getting uncomfortably high for them.
At Holden Swamp.
hear plenty of parti-colored warblers (tweezer-birds) and redstarts.
Uvularia
sessili folia abundant. how long?
The swamp is so dry that I walk about it
in my shoes. and the Kalmia glauca is apparently quite backward accordingly. —
can scarcely detect any buds of it. — while the rhodora on shore will
apparently bloom to-morrow.
Hear the yorrick.
The intetmediate
ferns and cinnamon, a foot and a half high, have just leafeted out. The
sensitive fern is only six inches high. — apparently the latest of all.
Sorrel.
It is a remarkable day for this season. You have the heat of
summer before the leaves have expanded. The sky is full of glowing summer
cumuli. There is no haze; the mountains are seen with perfect distinctness. It
is so warm that you can lie on the still
brownish grass in a thin coat. and will seek the shade for this purpose.
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 Dryopteris in the bank behind the
slippery elm? Now six or seven inches high. There is no mouse-ear down even
there. Those heads which have looked most expanded and downy are invariably cut
off by some creature (probably insect) and withered.
The crickets creak
steadily among the rocks.
The Carex varia (?) at Lee's all gone to
seed. Barberry in bloom. Myosotis stricta. Arum triphyllum. how long? Cardamine
rhomboidea. apparently to-morrow. just above Bittern Cliff.
It is so warm that I hear the peculiar sprayey note of the
toad generally at night. The third sultry evening in my chamber. A faint
lightning is seen in the north horizon.
The tender yellow green of birches is now the most noticeable
of any foliages in our landscape. as looking across the pond from Lee's Cliff.
The poplars are not common enough. The white birches are now distinguished
simply by being clothed with a tender and yellow green. while the trees
generally are bare and brown. — upright columns of green dashing the brown
hillsides.
H. D. Thoreau, Journal,
May 13, 1860
Red wings are evidently busy building their nests. See May 11, 1860 ("Red-wings do not fly in flocks for ten days past, I think.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Red-wing in Early Spring
See two crows pursuing and diving at a hen-hawk very high in the air over the river. See May 4, 1858 ("As I sit there by the swamp-side this warm summery afternoon, I hear the crows cawing hoarsely, and from time to time see one flying toward the top of a tall white pine. At length I distinguish a hen-hawk perched on the top. The crow repeatedly stoops toward him, now from this side, now from that, passing near his head each time, but he pays not the least attention to it.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the American Crow
The tender yellow green of birches is now the most noticeable of any foliages in our landscape. May 17, 1852 ("After a storm at this season, the sun comes out and lights up the tender expanding leaves, and all nature is full of light and fragrance, and the birds sing without ceasing, and the earth is a fairyland. The birch leaves are so small that you see the landscape through the tree, and they are like silvery and green spangles in the sun, fluttering about the tree.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Birches in Season
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