At mid-afternoon caught in a deluging rain

July 31.

Decidedly dog-days, and a strong musty scent, not to be wondered at after the copious rains and the heat of yesterday. 

At mid-afternoon I am caught in a deluging rain as I stand under a maple by the Assabet shore. The considerable shower at first but slightly dimples the water, and I see the differently shaded or lit currents of the river through it all; but anon it begins to rain very hard, and a myriad white globules dance or rebound an inch or two from the surface, where the big drops fall, and I hear a sound as if it rains pebbles or shot.

Looking on a water surface, you can see as well as hear when it rains very hard.

At this season the sound of a gentler rain than this, i. e. the sound of the dripping rain on the leaves, which are now dark and hard, yields a dry sound as if the drops struck on paper, but six weeks ago, when the leaves were so yellowish and tender, methinks it was a softer sound, as was the rustling.

Now, in the still moonlight, the dark foliage stands almost stiff and dark against the sky.

Before it rained hardest I could see in the midst of the dark and smoother water a lighter - colored and rougher surface, generally in oblong patches, which moved steadily down the stream, and this, I think, was the new water from above welling up and making its way down ward amid the old.

The water or currents of a river are thus not homogeneous, but the surface is seen to be of two shades, the smoother and darker water which already fills its bed [?] and the fresh influx of lighter colored and rougher, probably more rapid, currents which spot it here and there; i. e., some water seems to occupy it as a lake to some extent, other is passing through it as a stream, — the lacustrine and the fluviatile water.

These lighter reaches without reflections (?) are, as it were, water wrong side up. But do I ever see these except when it rains? And are they not the rain water which has not yet mingled with the water of the river?

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, July 31, 1860

At mid-afternoon I am caught in a deluging rain. See  July 31, 1858 ("You are liable to be overtaken by a thunder-shower these afternoons. ")

Differently shaded or lit currents Are they not the rain water which has not yet mingled with the water of the river? See April 17, 1856 ("Even in the midst of this rain I am struck by the variegated surface of the water, different portions reflecting the light differently . . . Broad streams of light water stretch away between streams of dark, as if they were different kinds of water unwilling to mingle.)"); June 17, 1859 ("The different-colored currents, light and dark, are seen through it all. At last the whole surface is nicked with the rebounding drops ...”); March 20, 1860 ("In this April rain . . . those alternate dark and light patches on the surface, all alike dimpled with the falling drops. . . . It reminds me of the season when you sit under a bridge and watch the dimples made by the rain.")

July 31.  See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau July 31

At mid-afternoon

caught in a deluging rain

under a maple.

.

A myriad white

globules dance and rebound

where the big drops fall.

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, At mid-afternoon

caught in a deluging rain

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