At a distance a fox or an otter withdraws from the riverside.

 September 25. 

P. M. — To boat opposite Bittern Cliff  via Cliffs. 

Do I see an F. hyemalis in the Deep Cut? It is a month earlier than last year. 

I am detained by the very bright red blackberry leaves strewn along the sod, the vine being inconspicuous.

On the shrub oak plain, as seen from Cliffs, the red at least balances the green. It looks like a rich, shaggy rug now, before the woods are changed. 

The button-bush leaves are rapidly falling and covering the ground with a rich brown carpet. 

At a distance a fox or an otter withdraws from the riverside.  

I see several smokes in the distance, of burning brush.  I think that if that August haze had been much of it smoke, I should have smelt it much more strongly, for I now smell strongly the smoke of this burning half a mile off, though it is scarcely perceptible in the air.

September 25, 2019

There is a splendid sunset while I am on the water, beginning at the Clamshell reach. 

All the lower edge of a very broad dark-slate cloud which reached up backward almost to the zenith was lit up through and through with a dun golden fire, the sun being be low the horizon . . . a clear, pale robin's-egg sky beneath. 

All the colors are prolonged in the rippled reflection to five or six times their proper length. The effect is particularly remarkable in the case of the reds, which are long bands of red perpendicular in the water.

Bats come out fifteen minutes after sunset, and then I hear some clear song sparrow strains, as from a fence-post amid snows in early spring.

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

Do I see an F. hyemalis . . . a month earlier than last year? See October 26, 1853 ("Slate-colored snowbirds."); See also September 3, 1857 ("A slate-colored snowbird back."); October 5, 1857 ("F.  hyemalis . . . only transiently visit us in spring and fall."); November 6, 1853 ("These little sparrows with white in tail, perhaps the prevailing bird of late, have flitted before me so many falls and springs, yet they have been strangers to me. I have not inquired whence they came or whither they were going,") See also A Book of the Seasons by Henry Thoreau, the Dark-eyed Junco (Fringilla hyemalis)

I am detained by the very bright red blackberry leaves strewn along the sod. See September 23, 1854 ("Low blackberry vines generally red. "); October 3, 1858 ("Have noticed a very brilliant scarlet blackberry patch within a week."); October 22, 1858 ("Blackberry and other small reddish plants are seen through the fine bleached grass and stubble"); October 23, 1853 ("Blackberry vines still red")

On the shrub oak plain . . . the red at least balances the green . . . like a rich, shaggy rug. See   October 2, 1852 ("From Cliffs the shrub oak plain has now a bright-red ground, perhaps of maples."); October 13, 1852 ("The shrub oak plain is now a deep red,"); October 22, 1858 ("I see, from the Cliffs, that color has run through the shrub oak plain like a fire or a wave, not omitting a single tree"); January 30, 1853 (" What I have called the Shrub Oak Plain contains comparatively few shrub oaks, — rather, young red and white and, it may be, some scarlet (?).") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Shrub Oak.

The button-bush leaves are rapidly falling and covering the ground with a rich brown carpet See September 24, 1854 (The button-bushes, which before had attained only a dull mixed yellow, are suddenly bitten, wither, and turn brown, all but the protected parts. . . . The button-bushes thus withered suddenly paint with a rich brown the river’s brim."); See also September 24, 1855 ("The button bushes pretty well browned with frost . . . their pale yellowish season past."); October 8, 1858 ("The button-bushes and black willows are rapidly losing leaves, and the shore begins to look Novemberish"); October 10, 1858 ("November has already come to the river with the fall of the black willow and the button-bush, . . . letting in the autumn light to the water")

At a distance a fox or an otter withdraws from the riverside.  January 30, 1854 ("How retired an otter manages to live! He grows to be four feet long without any mortal getting a glimpse of him.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Otter

I think that if that August haze had been much of it smoke, I should have smelt it much more strongly. See August 25, 1854 ("Between me and Nawshawtuct is a very blue haze like smoke. Indeed many refer all this to smoke"): August 26, 1854 ("I hear of a great many fires around us, far and near, both meadows and woods; in Maine and New York also. There may be some smoke in this haze, but I doubt it."); August 28, 1854 ("I think that haze was not smoke;"); August 31, 1854 ("At nine this evening I distinctly and strongly smell smoke, I think of burning meadows . . .There must be more smoke in this haze than I have supposed. ")

There is a splendid sunset while I am on the water, beginning at the Clamshell reach. See July 15, 1854 ("Again I am attracted by the Clamshell reach of the river  running east and west, as seen from Hubbard's fields . . . My thoughts are driven inward, even as clouds and trees are reflected in the still , smooth water. "); September 4, 1854 ("Looking up the reach beyond Clamshell, the moon on our east quarter, its sheen was reflected for half a mile . . . and it looked like a sort of Broadway with the sun reflected from its pavements."); December 29, 1856 (“When I return by Clamshell Hill, the sun has set, and the cloudy sky is reflected in a short and narrow open reach at the bend there.”); February 12, 1860 ("Sunset Reach, where the river flows nearly from west to east and is a fine sparkling scene from the hills eastward at sunset; ") See also Ray Angelo, Thoreau Place Names, 44 (Clamshell Reach – an east-west stretch of the Sudbury River, referred as Sunset Reach after this date)

All the colors are prolonged in the rippled reflection. See September 14, 1854 ("Crossing Fair Haven, the reflections are very fine, prolonged by the ripples made by an east wind just risen. "); October 7, 1857 (" The effect of this prolongation of the reflection was a very pleasing softening and blending of the colors . . . reflected and re-reflected from ripple to ripple, losing brightness each time by the softest possible gradation, and tapering toward the beholder . . . This is one of the prettiest effects of the autumnal change.. . .The ripples convey the reflection toward us.")

Bats come out fifteen minutes after sunset. See September 4, 1854 ("Full moon; bats flying about; skaters and water bugs like sparks of fire on the surface between us and the moon."); September 7, 1854 ("The moon not yet risen, one star, Jupiter, visible, and many bats over and about our heads, and small skaters creating a myriad dimples on the evening waters.")

I hear some clear song sparrow strains. See September 24,1854 ("Hear from a willow by river a clear strain from a song sparrow!")

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

I am detained by

the bright red blackberry leaves

strewn along the sod.

At a distance a 

fox or an otter withdraws 

from the riverside.

A splendid sunset
all the colors prolonged in
rippled reflection.

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, At a distance a 

fox or an otter withdraws  from the riverside.

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-540925