Wood thrush still sings

July 31. 

Blue-curls. 

Wood thrush still sings. 

Desmodium rotundifolium. Lespedeza hirta, say 26th, at Heywood Peak. 

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, July 31, 1854

Blue-curls. See July 31, 1856 ("Trichostema has now for some time been springing up in the fields, giving out its aromatic scent when bruised, and I see one ready to open.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Blue-Curls

Wood thrush still sings See July 30, 1853 ("The wood thrush still sings and the peawai."); August 12, 1854 ("Have not heard a wood thrush since last week of July.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Wood Thrush

Desmodium rotundifolium. Lespedeza hirta. See August 7, 1856 (“At Blackberry Steep . . .[t]he D. rotundifolium is there abundant; also, beside, Lespedeza hirta and capitata, the elliptic-oblong L. violacea and the angustata, as also at Heywood Peak. All these plants seem to love a dry open hillside, a steep one. Are rarely upright, but spreading, wand-like.”); August 19, 1856 ("I spent my afternoon among the desmodiums and lespedezas, sociably.")

New fungi within a week

July 30

I find the new rudbeckia in five distinct and distant parts of the town this year, - beyond almshouse, Arethusa Meadow, Sam. Wheeler meadow, Abel Hosmer meadow, and J. Hosmer meadow.

There are some of what I will call the clustered low blackberries on the sand just beyond the Dugan Desert. There are commonly a few larger grains in dense clusters on very short peduncles and flat on the sand, clammy with a cool subacid taste.

July 30, 2014

I have seen a few new fungi within a week. The tobacco-pipes are still pushing up white amid the dry leaves, sometimes lifting a canopy of leaves with them four or five inches.


H. D. Thoreau, Journal, July 30, 1854

The ridge of summer

July 28.

July 28, 2014

Methinks the season culminated about the middle of this month, — that the year was of indefinite promise before, but that, after the first intense heats, we postponed the fulfillment of many of our hopes for this year, and, having as it were attained the ridge of the summer, commenced to descend the long slope toward winter, the afternoon and down-hill of the year.

Last evening it was much cooler, and I heard a decided fall sound of crickets.

• Partridges begin to go off in packs.
• Lark still sings, and robin.
• Small sparrows still heard.
• Kingbird lively.
• Veery and wood thrush (?) not very lately, nor oven-bird.
• Red-eye and chewink common.
• Night-warbler and evergreen-forest note not lately. 
• Cherry-bird common. 
• Turtle dove seen.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, July 28, 1854

The long slope toward winter, the afternoon and down-hill of the year. See July 26, 1853 ("This the afternoon of the year.How apt we are to be reminded of lateness, even before the year is half spent!"); July 30, 1852 ("After midsummer we have a belated feeling . . . see in each sight and hear in each sound some presage of the fall, just as in middle age man anticipates the end of life"); August 5, 1854 ( ".long declivity from midsummer to winter”); August 18, 1853 ("What means this sense of lateness that so comes over one now, — as if the rest of the year were down-hill"); See also A Book of the Seasons: Midsummer midlife blues.

Partridges begin to go off in packs. See July 25, 1854 ("I now start some packs of partridges, old and young, going off together without mewing.") See also note to August 24, 1855 ("Scare up a pack of grouse”) See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau The Partridge.

Veery and wood thrush not very lately, nor oven-bird, See June 28, 1852 ("When I get nearer the wood, the veery is heard, and the oven-bird, or whet-saw, sounds hollowly from within the recesses of the wood. ... Now it is starlight [y]et I hear a chewink, veery, and wood thrush. ") See also May 13, 1856 (“At the swamp, hear the yorrick of Wilson’s thrush; the tweezer-bird or Sylvia Americana. Also the oven-bird sings.”); June 15, 1854 ("Thrasher and catbird sing still; summer yellowbird and Maryland yellow-throat sing still; and oven-bird and veery"); July 10, 1854 ("The singing birds at present are . . . Red-eye, tanager, wood thrush, chewink, veery, oven-bird, — all even at midday.") July 27, 1852 ("Have I heard the veery lately?"): July 30, 1852 ("How long since I heard a veery? Do they go, or become silent, when the goldfinches herald the autumn? "); August 6, 1852 ("With the goldenrod comes the goldfinch. About the time his cool twitter is heard, does not the bobolink, thrasher, catbird, oven-bird, veery, etc., cease?") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Veery and A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Oven-bird

July 28. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, July 28

Cooler last evening 

and I heard a decided 

fall sound of crickets.

The ridge of summer

the long slope toward winter –

all our hopes postponed.

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The ridge of summer

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

tinyurl.com/hdt-540728

The shorn fields reflect light.

July 26. 

July 26, 2014

One reason why the lately shorn fields shine so and reflect so much light is that a lighter-colored and tender grass, which has been shaded by the crop taken off, is now exposed, and also a light and fresh grass is springing up there. 

Yet I think it is not wholly on this account, but in a great measure owing to a clearer air after rains which have succeeded to misty weather.

 

I am going over the hill through Ed. Hosmer's orchard, when I observe this light reflected from the shorn fields, contrasting affectingly with the dark smooth Assabet, reflecting the now dark shadows of the woods. The fields reflect light quite to the edge of the stream.

The peculiarity of the stream is in a certain languid or stagnant smoothness of the water, and of the bordering woods in a dog-day density of shade reflected darkly in the water.

July 26, 2023                                                            July 26, 2024

Alternate cornel berries  a day or two.

To-day I see in various parts of the town the yellow butterflies in fleets in the road, on bare damp sand (not dung), twenty or more collected within a diameter of five or six inches in many places. 

They are a greenish golden, sitting still near together, and apparently headed one way if the wind blows. At first, perhaps, you do not notice them, but, as you pass along, you disturb them, and the air is suddenly all alive with them fluttering over the road, and, when you are past, they soon settle down in a new place. 

How pretty these little greenish-golden spangles! Some are a very pale greenish yellow. The farmer is not aware how much beauty flutters about his wagon. I do not know what attracts them thus to sit near together  like a fleet in a haven; why they collect in groups. 

Almost every bush now offers a wholesome and palatable diet to the wayfarer, — 

• large and dense clusters of Vaccinium vacillans, largest in most moist ground, sprinkled with the red ones not ripe; 
• great high blueberries, some nearly as big as cranberries, of an agreeable acid; 
• huckleberries of various kinds, some shining black, some dull-black, some blue; 
• and low blackberries of two or more varieties. 

The broods of birds just matured find thus plenty to eat.

It is a windy day like yesterday, yet almost constantly I hear borne on the wind from far, mingling with the sound of the wind, the z-ing locust, scarcely like a distinct sound.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, July 26, 1854

Light reflected from the shorn fields, contrasting affectingly with the dark smooth Assabet, reflecting the now dark shadows of the woods. See July 23, 1854 (" There is a peculiar light reflected from the shorn fields, as later in the fall, when rain and coolness have cleared the air."); July 24, 1852("There is a short, fresh green on the shorn fields, the aftermath. When the first crop of grass is off, and the aftermath springs, the year has passed its culmination "); July 24, 1860 ("Many a field where the grass has been cut shows now a fresh and very lit-up light green as you look toward the sun."); July 28, 1852 ("There is a yellowish light now from a low, tufted, yellowish, broad-leaved grass, in fields that have been mown.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Haymaking

Alternate cornel berries, a day or two. See August 1, 1852 ("The berries of what I have called the alternate-leaved cornel are now ripe, a very dark blue - blue-black - and round, but dropping off prematurely, leaving handsome red cymes, which adorn the trees from a distance. ") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Alternate-leafed dogwood (Cornus alternifolia)

Yellow butterflies. See July 14, 1852 ("See to-day for the first time this season fleets of yellow butterflies in compact assembly in the road..."); July 19, 1856 ("Fleets of yellow butterflies on road."); July 22, 1853("Yellow butterflies in the road.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Yellow Butterflies

The broods of birds just matured find thus plenty to eat. See August 19, 1852 ("The small fruits of most plants are now generally ripe or ripening, and this is coincident with the flying in flocks of such young birds now grown as feed on them.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Young Birds and A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Season of Small Fruit

I hear borne on the wind from far, mingling with the sound of the wind, the z-ing locust. See June 14, 1854 ("Harris's other kind, the dog-day cicada (canicularis), or harvest-fly. He says it begins to be heard invariably at the beginning of dog-days; he (Harris) heard it for many years in succession with few exceptions on the 25th of July."); July 17, 1856 (“A very warm afternoon. Thermometer at 97° at the Hosmer Desert. I hear the early locust.”); July 18, 1851 ("I first hear the locust sing, so dry and piercing, by the side of the pine woods in the heat of the day"); July 19, 1854 ("The more smothering, furnace-like heats are beginning, and the locust days.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Locust, Dogdayish Days

 

July 26. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, July 26

The shorn fields reflect 

light quite to the edge of the 

dark smooth Assabet –

a dog-day density of shade 

reflected darkly in the water.

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The shorn fields reflect 

light

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

tinyurl.com/hdt-540726

Decidedly midsummer rain.

July 25.

A decided rain-storm to-day and yesterday, such as we have not had certainly since May. Are we likely ever to have two days' rain in June and the first half of July?

There is considerable wind too.

P. M. — To Bare Hill, Lincoln, via railroad. 

High blackberries, a day or two.  

I see some oak sprouts from the stump, six feet high. Some are now just started again after a pause, with small red leaves as in the spring. 

The rain has saved the berries. They are plump and large.

Hear a wood thrush. 

I now start some packs of partridges, old and young, going off together without mewing. 

See in woods a toad, dead-leaf color with black spots.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, July 25, 1854

A decided rain-storm to-day and yesterday.  See July 24, 1854 ("The last four or five days it has been very hot and [we] have been threatened with thunder-showers every afternoon . . . though we had not much.")

Oak sprouts... started again. See July 14, 1852 ("Trees have commonly two growths in the year, a spring and a fall growth, ... and you can ... wonder what there was in the summer to produce this check...These two growths are now visible on the oak sprouts, the second already nearly equalling the first."); August 4, 1854 (" I see a new growth on oak sprouts, three to six inches, with reddish leaves as in spring. Some whole trees show the lighter new growth at a distance, above the dark green.")

High blackberries, a day or two. See August 3, 1856 ("High blackberries beginning; a few ripe."); August 4, 1856 ("Here and there the high blackberry, just beginning, towers over all. "):
See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Blackberries

 

Hear a wood thrush. See July 19, 1854 ("A wood thrush to-night."); July 31, 1854 ("Wood thrush still sings."); August 12, 1854 ("Have not heard a wood thrush since last week of July."); See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Wood Thrush

I now start some packs of partridges, old and young.  See July 28, 1854 (Partridges begin to go off in packs.) See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Partridge

A toad, dead-leaf color with black spots. See July 25, 1855 ("Many little toads about.") See also June 29, 1852 ("The mud turtle is the color of the mud, the wood frog and the hylodes of the dead leaves, the bullfrogs of the pads, the toad of the earth, the tree-toad of the bark."); July 12, 1852 ("I go to walk at twilight, — at the same time that toads go to their walks, and are seen hopping about the sidewalks or the pump"); July 17, 1853 ("Young toads not half an inch long at Walden shore."); July 17, 1856 (“I see many young toads hopping about on that bared ground amid the thin weeds, not more than five eighths to three quarters of an inch long.”)

July 25. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, July 25

A rain-storm to-day –

rain such as we certainly 

have not had since May.

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau,  Decidedly midsummer 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

tinyurl.com/hdt-5407725

Dark cloud in the west.

July 24.

The last four or five days it has been very hot and [we] have been threatened with thunder-showers every afternoon, which interfered with my long walk, though we had not much. 

Now, at 2 p. m., I hear again the loud thunder and see the dark cloud in the west. 

Some small and nearer clouds are floating past, white against the dark-blue distant one.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, July 24, 1854

I hear again the loud thunder and see the dark cloud in the west. See July 20, 1854 ("A muttering thunder-cloud in northwest gradually rising and with its advanced guard hiding in the sun and now and then darting forked lightning."); July 23, 1854 ("See a thunder-cloud coming up in northwest . . . At length the sun is obscured by its advance guard, but, as so often, the rain comes, leaving thunder and lightning behind.")

Small and nearer clouds are floating past, white against the dark-blue distant one. See July 19, 1851("The wind rises more and more. The river and the pond are blacker than the threatening cloud in the south. The thunder mutters in the distance. The surface of the water is slightly rippled. ... The woods roar. Small white clouds [hurry] across the dark-blue ground of the storm . . .") see also November 12, 1852 (“From Fair Haven Hill, I see a very distant, long, low dark-blue cloud in the northwest horizon beyond the mountains, and against this I see, apparently, a narrow white cloud resting on every mountain and conforming exactly to its outline.”)

July 24. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, July 24

Dark cloud in the west.

Small and nearer clouds float past –

white against dark-blue.

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Dark cloud in the west.

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

tinyurl.com/hdt-540724

A peculiar light

July 23.

July 23, 2014

There is a peculiar light reflected from the shorn fields, as later in the fall, when rain and coolness have cleared the air. Hazel leaves in dry places have begun to turn yellow and brown. 

I see broods of partridges later than the others, now the size of the smallest chickens.   

The white orchis at same place, four or five days at least; spike one and three quarters by three inches. 

Small flocks of song sparrows rustle along the walls and fences.  

See a thunder-cloud coming up in northwest, but as I walk and wind in the woods, lose the points of compass and cannot tell whether it is travelling this way or not. At length the sun is obscured by its advance guard, but, as so often, the rain comes, leaving thunder and lightning behind.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, July 23, 1854

I see broods of partridges later than the others, now the size of the smallest chickens. See June 26, 1857 ("See a pack of partridges as big as robins at least."); July 5, 1857 ("Partridges big as quails.");
 July 7, 1854 ("Disturb two broods of partridges this afternoon, — one a third grown, flying half a dozen rods over the bushes, yet the old, as anxious as ever, rushing to me with the courage of a hen."); July 10, 1854 ("Partridge, young one third grown.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Partridge

The white orchis . . . spike one and three quarters by three inches. See August 8, 1858 (" I find at Ledum Swamp, near the pool, the white fringed orchis, quite abundant but past prime, only a few, yet quite fresh. It seems to belong to this sphagnous swamp and is some fifteen to twenty inches high, quite conspicuous, its white spike, amid the prevailing green. The leaves are narrow, half folded, and almost insignificant. It loves, then, these cold bogs"); August 11, 1852 ("Platanthera blephariglottis, white fringed orchis.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The White Fringed Orchis

See a thunder-cloud coming up in northwest. See July 20, 1854 ("A muttering thunder-cloud in northwest gradually rising and with its advanced guard hiding in the sun and now and then darting forked lightning."); July 24, 1854 ("Now, at 2 p. m., I hear again the loud thunder and see the dark cloud in the west.")

As I walk and wind in the woods, lose the points of compass. See March 29, 1853 ("Every man has once more to learn the points of compass as often as he awakes, whether from sleep or from any abstraction.")

July 23. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, July 23

But, as so often, 

the rain comes, leaving thunder 

and lightning behind.

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

Morning fog and melting heat.

July 22.

The hottest night, — the last. It was almost impossible to pursue any work out-of- doors yesterday. There were but few men to be seen out. You were prompted often, if working in the sun, to step into the shade to avoid a sunstroke. 

Fogs almost every morning now. Now clouds have begun to hang about all day, which do not promise rain, as it were the morning fogs elevated but little above the earth and floating through the air all day.

P. M. -- To Assabet Bath. 

There is a cool wind from the east, which makes it cool walking that way while it is melting hot walking westward. 

Gerardia flava, apparently two or three days, Lupine Hillside up railroad, near fence.

Solidago odora, a day or two, Lupine Hillside, and what I will call S. puberula, to-morrow. S. altissima on railroad, a day or two.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, July 22, 1854

The hottest night, — the last . . . There is a cool wind from the east, which makes it cool walking that way while it is melting hot walking westward. See July 22, 1852 ("A strong west wind, saving us from intolerable heat, accompanied by a blue haze, making the mountains invisible. We have more of the furnace-like heat to-day, after all."); July 22, 1855 (''Dog day weather begins.") See also
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Locust, Dogdayish Days

There were but few men to be seen out. See July 22, 1853 (" I enjoy walking in the fields less at this season than at any other; there are so many men in the fields haying now.")

Fogs almost every morning now. See July 22, 1851 ("The season of morning fogs has arrived.”); See also July 18, 1852 ("Now the fogs have begun, in midsummer and mid-haying time "); July 19, 1853 ("This morning a fog and cool.")

Lupine Hillside.  See July 12, 1857 ("It is always pleasant to go over the bare brow of Lupine Hill and see the river and meadows thence.")

Gerardia flava, apparently two or three days. See July 28, 1853 ("The Gerardia flava in the hickory grove behind Lee's Cliff."); July 28, 1856 (Gerardia flava, apparently several days.) [Gerardia flava now know as Aureolaria flava (smooth false foxglove)]

Solidago. See July 17, 1853 ("Rank weeds begin to block up low wood-paths, — goldenrods, asters, etc."); July 18, 1854 ("Methinks the asters and goldenrods begin, like the early ripening leaves, with midsummer heats."); July 19, 1851 ("Beyond the bridge there is a goldenrod partially blossomed."); July 24, 1856 ("In the low Flint's Pond Path, beyond Britton's, the tall rough goldenrod makes a thicket higher than my head."); July 28, 1852 ("Solidago altissima (?) beyond the Corner Bridge, out some days at least . . . Goldenrod and asters have fairly begun."); August 14, 1856 ("Solidago odora abundantly out.")

July 22. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, July 22

Fogs every morning. 

Now clouds hang about all day

but it does not rain.

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau,  Melting Heat

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

https://tinyurl.com/hdt-540722

[At dusk we hike to the view without headlamps on, arriving to a spectacular light show of constant lightning flashes and bolts to the northwest — so far  away we only occasionally  hear the thunder.  we water the dogs and  linger as long as we dare. Loki watches the light show.   my water bottle has dropped somewhere on the trail so we walk back the same route. Little Acorn is on an elastic leach strapped to my waist, her first outing since her surgery 10 day ago. A short hike.  It has been a 90 degree day and two fans so loud  in the family room we do not hear when the deluge hits home a little later.  ~ zphx 20160722]

Darting forked lightning

July 20.

A very hot day, a bathing day. Warm days about this. 

Corn in blossom these days.

P. M. — To Hubbard Bath. 

July 20, 2020

A muttering thunder-cloud in northwest gradually rising and with its advanced guard hiding in the sun and now and then darting forked lightning. 

The wind rising ominously also drives me home again.

At length down it comes upon the thirsty herbage, beating down the leaves with grateful, tender violence and slightly cooling the air. 

How soon it sweeps over and we see the flash in the southeast!

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, July 20, 1854

A very hot day, a bathing day.  See July 3, 1854 ("What a luxury to bathe now! It is gloriously hot, — the first of this weather."; July 19, 1854 ("The more smothering, furnace-like heats are beginning, and the locust days.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Luxury of Bathing

Corn in blossom these days. See July 12, 1851 ("The earliest corn is beginning to show its tassels now, and I scent it as I walk, — its peculiar dry scent."); July 27, 1852 ("I now perceive the peculiar scent of the corn-fields. The corn is just high enough, and this hour is favorable. I should think the ears had hardly set yet.")

We see the flash in the southeast. See July 20, 1851 (“A thunder-shower in the night . . .the lightning filled the damp air with light, like some vast glow-worm in the fields of ether opening its wings.”) Compare July 23, 1854 ("See a thunder-cloud coming up in northwest, but as I walk and wind in the woods, lose the points of compass and cannot tell whether it is travelling this way or not. At length the sun is obscured by its advance guard, but, as so often, the rain comes, leaving thunder and lightning behind.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Lightning

Darting forked lightning

wind rising ominously

drives me home again.

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Darting forked lightning

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

tinyurl.com/hdt-540720

Furnace-like heats beginning and the locust days.

July 19.

July 19, 2018

In Moore's Swamp I pluck cool, though not very sweet, large red raspberries in the shade. 

Wild holly berries, a day or two. Black choke-berry, several days. High blueberries scarce.   

Apparently a catbird's nest in a shrub oak, lined with root-fibres, with three green- blue eggs. 

Erigeron annuus perhaps fifteen rods or more beyond the Hawthorn Bridge on right hand - a new plant.

The white cotton-grass now (and how long ?) at Beck Stow's appears to be the Eriophorum gracile (?). I see no rusty ones.

In the maple swamp at Hubbard's Close, the great cinnamon ferns are very handsome now in tufts, falling over in handsome curves on every side. Some are a foot wide and raised up six feet long.

Clintonia berries in a day or two. 

I am surprised to see at Walden a single Aster patens with a dozen flowers fully open a day or more.

The more smothering, furnace-like heats are beginning, and the locust days.

A wood thrush to-night. Veery within two or three days. 

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, July 19, 1854

In Moore's Swamp I pluck cool, though not very sweet, large red raspberries in the shade. See July 2, 1851 (" Some of the raspberries are ripe, the most innocent and simple of fruits."); July 15, 1859 ("Raspberries, in one swamp, are quite abundant and apparently at their height."); July 17, 1852 ("I pick raspberries dripping with rain beyond Sleepy Hollow.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Raspberry

The white cotton-grass at Beck Stow's appears to be the Eriophorum gracile (?). I see no rusty ones. See October 14, 1852 (" It is apparently the Eriophorum Virginicum, Virginian cotton-grass, now nodding or waving with its white woolly heads over the greenish andromeda and amid the red isolated blueberry bushes in Beck Stow's Swamp.");July 4, 1853 (“The cotton-grass at Beck Stow's. Is it different from the early one?”) Compare August 23, 1854 ("Next comes [at Gowings Swamp], half a dozen rods wide, a dense bed of Andromeda calyculata , — the A. Polifolia mingled with it, — the rusty cotton grass, cranberries , — the common and also V . Oxyoccus , — pitcher-plants, sedges, and a few young spruce and larch here and there, — all on sphagnum" ) See also July 23, 1856 ("Russsell says] that the two white cotton-grasses (Eriophorum) were probably but one species, taller and shorter,") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, at Beck Stow's Swamp. Note:. a third cotton-grass, Eriophorum vaginatum, was known to HDT after May 28, 1858 only at Ledum Swamp See .. Vascular Flora of Concord, Massachusetts compiled by Ray Angelo

The maple swamp at Hubbard's Close. (Clintonia Swamp, Clintonia Maple Swamp, E. Hubbard’s Clintonia Swamp, E. Hubbard’s Swamp, Hubbard’s Close Swamp) – a large swamp just to the northeast of Hubbard Close. ~ Ray Angelo, Thoreau's Place Names, Clintonia Swamp

Clintonia berries in a day or two. See July 24, 1853 ("The dark indigo-blue (Sophia says), waxy, and like blue china blue berries of the clintonia are already well ripe. For some time, then, though a few are yet green. They are numerous near the edge of Hubbard’s lower meadow. They are in clusters of half a dozen on brittle stems eight or ten inches high, oblong or squarish round, the size of large peas with a dimple atop"); August 27, 1856 ("Peculiar large dark blue indigo clintonia berries of irregular form and dark-spotted, in umbels of four or five on very brittle stems which break with a snap and on erectish stemlets or pedicels.) See also June 2, 1853 ("Clintonia borealis, a day or two. This is perhaps the most interesting and neatest of what I may call the liliaceous (?) plants we have. Its beauty at present consists chiefly in its commonly three very handsome, rich, clear dark-green leaves . . . arching over from a centre at the ground, sometimes very symmetrically disposed in a triangular fashion; and from their midst rises the scape [ a ] foot high, with one or more umbels of“green bell - shaped flowers,” yellowish-green, nodding or bent downward")

Great cinnamon ferns are very handsome now. See May 30, 1854 ("In this dark, cellar-like maple swamp are scattered at pretty regular intervals tufts of green ferns, Osmunda cinnamomea, above the dead brown leaves, broad, tapering fronds, curving over on every side from a compact centre, now three or four feet high"); See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Cinnamon Fern

I am surprised to see at Walden a single Aster patens. See July 27, 1853 ("I notice to-day the first purplish aster... The afternoon of the year.”); see also August 12, 1856 ("The Aster patens is very handsome by the side of Moore's Swamp on the bank, — large flowers, more or less purplish or violet, each commonly (four or five) at the end of a long peduncle, three to six inches long, at right angles with the stem, giving it an open look.”)

The more smothering, furnace-like heats are beginning and the locust days.    See See note to July 18, 1851 ("I first heard the locust sing, so dry and piercing, by the side of the pine woods in the heat of the day."); July 18, 1854 ("Methinks the asters and goldenrods begin, like the early ripening leaves, with midsummer heats.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Locust, Dogdayish Days

A wood thrush to-night. Veery within two or three days. See July 17, 1856 ("It is 5 P. M. The wood thrush begins to sing"); July 24, 1853 ("I hear no veery."); July 27, 1852 ("The thrush, now the sun is apparently set, fails not to sing. Have I heard the veery lately?") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Veery; A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Wood Thrush

July 19. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau July 19

The more smothering

furnace-like heats beginning

and the locust days.

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Furnace-like heats beginning and the locust days.

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

tinyurl.com/hdt-540719