I hear the year falling asleep

August 21

The air within a day or two is quite cool, almost too cool for a thin coat, yet the alternate days are by some reckoned among the warmest in the year. 

Young turkeys are straying in the grass which is alive with grasshoppers. 

August 21, 2016

The bees, wasps, etc. are on the goldenrods, improving their time before the sun of the year sets. 

The leaves of the dogsbane are turning yellow. 

There are as few or fewer birds heard than flowers seen. 

August 21, 2020

The sound of the crickets gradually prevails more and more. I hear the year falling asleep.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, August 21, 1852

Almost too cool for a thin coat. See August 17, 1851 ("For a day or two it has been quite cool, a coolness that was felt even when sitting by an open window in a thin coat on the west side of the house in the morning, and you naturally sought the sun at that hour."); August 18, 1852 ("We have had some pretty cool weather within a week or two, and the evenings generally are cooler. "); September 3, 1852 ("A warm night  A thin coat sufficient."); September 9, 1851 ("A sultry night; a thin coat is enough."); September 14, 1851 ("A great change in the weather from sultry to cold, from one thin coat to a thick coat or two thin ones.")

The grass . . . alive with grasshoppers. See August 21, 1854 ("Have noticed winged grasshoppers or locusts a week or more."); September 4, 1856 ("The crackling flight of grasshoppers. The grass also is all alive with them, and they trouble me by getting into my shoes")

The bees, wasps, etc. are on the goldenrods, improving their time before the sun of the year sets. See August 30, 1859 ("Now that flowers are rarer, almost every one of whatever species has bees or butterflies upon it."); September 9, 1852 ("The goldenrods resound with the hum of bees and other insects."); September 21, 1856 ("[On top of Cliff, behind the big stump] is a great place for white goldenrod, now in its prime and swarming with honey-bees."); September 30, 1852 ("If there are any sweet flowers still lingering on the hillside, it is known to the bees both of the forest and the village"); October 11, 1856 ("The white goldenrod is still common here, and covered with bees."); October 12, 1856 ("It is interesting to see how some of the few flowers which still linger are frequented by bees and other insects. . . .in the garden, I see half a dozen honey bees, many more flies, some wasps, a grasshopper, and a large handsome butterfly. ") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau. Wasps and Hornets and A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Bees

The leaves of the dogsbane are turning yellow. See September 26, 1852 ("Dogsbane leaves a clear yellow.")

There are as few or fewer birds heard than flowers seen. See August 18, 1853 ("The season of flowers or of promise may be said to be over, and now is the season of fruits; but where is our fruit?"); August 19, 1851 ("This is a world where there are flowers"); August 22, 1853 ("I hear but few notes of birds these days . . . not sounds enough to disturb the general stillness. ")

The sound of the crickets gradually prevails more and more. See August 20, 1858 ("There is more shadow in the landscape than a week ago, methinks, and the creak of the cricket sounds cool and steady.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Cricket in August

I hear the year falling asleep. See August 18, 1853 ("The night of the year is approaching . . . How early in the year it begins to be late! . . . The year is full of warnings of its shortness, as is life. "); August 19, 1853 ("The day is an epitome of the year"); August 23, 1853 ("I am again struck by the perfect correspondence of a day — say an August day — and the year. I think that a perfect parallel may be drawn between the seasons of the day and of the year.”)

August 21. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, August 21

There are as few

or fewer birds heard 

than flowers seen.

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, I hear the year falling asleep

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

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