Bare gray limbs and twigs.--the month of withered oak leaves.

November 3. 

Shepherd's-purse abundant still in gardens. 

3 p.m. — To Cliffs and Andromeda Ponds. 

In the Heywood Brooks, many young pollywogs two inches long and more; also snails on the bottom. 

I find these water-bugs, large and small, not on the surface, but apparently sheltered amid the weeds, going into winter quarters. 

While collecting caddis-worms, of which there are many, whose cases are made of little pieces of weeds piled about them like well-stones, I disturbed a good-sized fish, either a pout or a sucker, near the path. It swam rapidly down this shallow stream, creating a wave which reached from side to side and betrayed it. I followed it down till it concealed itself under some frog-spittle, and when I had dislodged it thence, it went down further, till, coming to where the stream was dammed, it buried itself in the mud above the dam in an instant, and I could not dig it out. 

The landscape from Fair Haven Hill looks Novembery, bare gray limbs and twigs in the swamps; and where many young (or shrub) oaks have lost their leaves, you hear the rustling of oak and walnut leaves in the air. There is a ripple on the river from the cool northerly wind. The plants are sere. It is the month of withered oak leaves.

The shrub oak plain is all withered. 

Only one or two butter-and-eggs left. 

At Andromeda Pond, started nine black (?) ducks just at sunset, as usual they circling far round to look at me. 

The andromeda is a dull brown like the shrub oak leaves now. 

Or I was startled by the cracking of the ground in the coldest nights, which sounded as if it were my house that cracked, and in the morning I would find a crack in the earth a quarter of an inch wide and a quarter of a mile long.

The sunsets begin to be interestingly warm.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, November 3, 1852

The landscape from Fair Haven Hill looks Novembery . . . the month of withered oak leaves.  See October 28, 1852 ("November the month of withered leaves and bare twigs and limbs.");  November 13, 1855 ("From Fair Haven Hill the air is clear and fine-grained, and now it is a perfect russet November landscape, . . .”); November 25, 1853 ("There is first the clean light-reflecting russet earth, the dark-blue water, the dark or dingy green evergreens, the dull reddish-brown of young oaks and shrub oaks, the gray of maples and other leafless trees, and the white of birch stems. . . .”). Also It is glorious November weather.

Glorious November November The month of withered leaves and bare twigs and limbs. November The landscape without snow prepared for winter. November The clear, white, leafless twilight, the bright November stars. November Still we beholds the inaccessible beauty around us.