Friday, July 8, 2011

A phalanx of yellow rye.

July 8. 

Walk along the Clamshell bank after sundown. A cloudy sky. The heads of the grass in the pasture behind Dennis's have a reddish cast, but another grass, with a lighter-colored stem and leaves, on the higher parts of the field gives a yellowish tinge to those parts, as if they reflect a misty sunlight. Even much later in the night these light spots are distinguishable.

Here are some rich rye-fields waving over all the land, their heads nodding in the evening breeze with an alternating motion.  How rich a sight this cereal fruit, now yellow for the cradle. It is an impenetrable phalanx. I walk for half a mile beside these Macedonians, looking in vain for an opening.
       
The yellow, waving, rustling rye extends far up and over the hills on either side, leaving only a narrow and dark passage at the bottom of a deep ravine . How rankly it has grown! These long grain-fields which you must respect, - must go round, - occupying the ground like an army.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal,  July 8, 1851

I walk for half a mile ... looking in vain for an opening. See July 6, 1859 ("Grass now for a week or more has been seriously in the way of the walker,... It requires skillful tacking, a good deal of observation, and experience to get across the country now.); July 4, 1860 ("We are wading and navigating at present in a sort of sea of grass,").

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