The year is but a succession of days,
and I see that I could assign some office to each day
which, summed up, would be the history of the year.
Henry Thoreau, August 24, 1852
Our fairest days born
in a fog –– the season of
morning fogs arrived.
July 22, 2023
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. July 22, 1854
Yesterday having been a rainy day, the air is now clear and cool. Rarely is the horizon so distinct. July, 22, 1860
This morning, though perfectly fair except a haziness in the east, which prevented any splendor, the birds do not sing as yesterday. They appear to make distinctions which we cannot appreciate. July 22, 1852
The season of morning fogs has arrived. A great crescent over the course of the river, the fog retreats, and I do not see how it is dissipated, leaving this slight, thin vapor to curl over the surface of the still, dark water, still as glass. July 22, 1851
These are our fairest days, which are born in a fog. July 22, 1851
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. July 22, 1854
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, 1852
Dog day weather begins. July 22, 1855
Start just before 8 A.M. and sail to the Falls of Concord River. We are early enough to see the light reflected from the sides of the gyrating water-bugs. July 22, 1859
The air is now clear and cool. . . .The surface of the earth, - grass grounds, pastures, and meadows, - is remarkably beautiful. July 22, 1860
I stand in Heywood's pasture and, leaning over the wall, look westward. The next field, as I look over the wall, is a sort of terrestrial rainbow.
- First dark-green, where white clover has been cut;
- next along the edge of the meadow is a strip of red-top, uncut, perfectly distinct;
- then the cheerful bright-yellow sedge of the meadow;
- then a corresponding belt of red-top on its upper edge, quite straight and rectilinear like the first;
- then a glaucous-green field of grain still quite low;
- and, in the further corner of the field, a much darker square of green than any yet --
all brilliant in this wonderful light. July 22, 1860
Flocks of yellow-breasted, russet-backed female bobolinks are seen flitting stragglingly across the meadows. The bobolink loses his song as he loses his colors. July 22, 1852
See small flocks of red-wings, young and old, now, over the willows. July 22, 1855
Here is a kingfisher frequenting the Corner Brook Pond. They find out such places. July 22, 1852
Heard from a bittern, a peculiar hoarse, grating note, lazily uttered as it flew over the meadows. A bittern's croak: a sound perfectly becoming the bird, as far as possible from music. July 22, 1859
The nest of the marsh hawk is empty. It has probably flown. July 22, 1858
The pigeon woodpeckers have flown. .July 22, 1855
The green berries of the arum are seen, and the now reddish fruit of the trillium, and the round green-pea-sized green berries of the axil-flowering Solomon's-seal. July 22, 1852
Smooth sumach berries crimson there. July 22, 1853
The orchis and spikenard at Azalea Brook are not yet open.July 22, 1853
The Asclepias syriaca is going to seed. July 22, 1852
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. July 22, 1854
The spear thistle. [Cirsium lanceolatum.] July 22, 1852
Observed, on the wild basil on Annursnack, small reddish butterflies which looked like a part of the plant. It has a singularly soft, velvety leaf. July 22, 1853
Tansy is now conspicuous by the roadsides, covered with small red butterflies. July 22, 1852
Yellow butterflies in the road. July 22, 1853
First locust heard. July 22, 1860
The early roses are now about done. July 22, 1853
When I come to the river, I take off my clothes and carry them over, then bathe and wash off the mud and continue my walk. I would fain take rivers in my walks endwise. July 22, 1851
Farmers have commenced their meadow-haying. July 22, 1852
On one account, at least, I enjoy walking in the fields less at this season than at any other; there are so many men in the fields haying now.. July 22, 1853
C. and I took refuge from a shower under our boat at Clamshell; staid an hour at least. A thunderbolt fell close by. July 22, 1858
Left a little too soon, but enjoyed a splendid rainbow for half an hour. July 22, 1858
Left a little too soon, but enjoyed a splendid rainbow for half an hour. July 22, 1858
July 22, 2018
The orchis and spikenard at Azalea Brook are not yet open. See July 12, 1853 ("Spikenard, not quite yet.The green-flowered lanceolate-leafed orchis at Azalea Brook will soon flower.") The locally rare Spikenard (Aralia racemosa) that Thoreau saw near Azalea brook still persisted in 2007.~ Place Names of Henry David Thoreau in Concord, Massachusetts(and in Lincoln, Massachusetts) & Other Botanical Sites in Concord compiled by Ray Angelo./ See also May 31, 1853 ("I am going in search of the Azalea nudiflora")
Yellow butterflies in the road. See July 14, 1852 ("See to-day for the first time this season fleets of yellow butterflies in compact assembly in the road”); July 16, 1851 ("I see the yellow butterflies now gathered in fleets in the road, and on the flowers of the milkweed"); July 19, 1856 ("Fleets of yellow butterflies on road."); July 26, 1854 ("Today I see in various parts of the town the yellow butterflies in fleets in the road, on bare damp sand, twenty or more collected within a diameter of five or six inches in many places."); September 3, 1854 ("Even at this season I see some fleets of yellow butterflies in the damp road after the rain, as earlier.")See small flocks of red-wings, young and old, now. See July 13, 1856 (“See quite a large flock of chattering red-wings, the flight of first broods.”); July 29, 1859 (“See large flocks of red-wings now, the young grown.”)
Flocks of yellow-breasted, russet-backed female bobolinks are seen flitting stragglingly across the meadows See August 15, 1852 (" I see a dense, compact flock of bobolinks going off in the air over a field. They cover the rails and alders, and go rustling off with a brassy, tinkling note as I approach, revealing their yellow breasts and bellies. This is an autumnal sight, that small flock of grown birds in the afternoon sky. ") S
A bittern's croak. See September 20, 1855 (“The great bittern, as it flies off from near the railroad bridge. . . utters a low hoarse kwa kwa”); September 25, 1855 ("Scare up the usual great bittern above the railroad bridge, whose hoarse qua qua, as it flies heavily off, a pickerel-fisher on the bank imitates.”)
The green berries of the arum are seen. See September 28, 1856 ("The arum berries are still fresh and abundant, perhaps in their prime. A large cluster is two and a half inches long by two wide ")
The green berries of the arum are seen. See September 28, 1856 ("The arum berries are still fresh and abundant, perhaps in their prime. A large cluster is two and a half inches long by two wide ")
The now reddish fruit of the trillium. See August 19, 1852 ("The trillium berries, six-sided, one inch in diameter, like varnished and stained cherry wood, glossy red, crystalline and ingrained, concealed under its green leaves in shady swamps. ")
and I took refuge from a shower under our boat at Clamshell; staid an hour at least. See June 14, 1855 (“It suddenly begins to rain with great violence, and we in haste draw up our boat on the Clamshell shore, upset it, and get under, sitting on the paddles, and so are quite dry while our friends thought we were being wet to our skins. But we have as good a roof as they. It is very pleasant to lie there half an hour close to the edge of the water and see and hear the great drops patter on the river, each making a great bubble”)
These are our fairest days, which are born in a fog. Compare May 5, 1852 ("Every part of the world is beautiful today."); May 18, 1852 (The world can never be more beautiful than now”); August 19, 1853 (“ The dog-day mists are gone; the washed earth shines; the cooler air braces man. No summer day is so beautiful as the fairest spring and fall days . . . It is a glorious and ever-memorable day."); December 10, 1853 ("These are among the finest days in the year”);May 21, 1854 (“the finest days of the year, days long enough and fair enough for the worthiest deeds.”); December 21, 1854 (“We are tempted to call these the finest days of the year.”); October 10, 1856 ("These are the finest days in the year, Indian Summer.”); October 10, 1857 ("The sixth day of glorious weather, which I am tempted to call the finest in the year"); September 18, 1860 ("If you are not happy to-day you will hardly be so to-morrow.").
A sort of terrestrial rainbow all brilliant in this wonderful light. See July 15, 1860 (“The rich green of young grain now, of various shades; the flashing blades of corn; the yellowing tops of ripening grain; the dense uniform red of red-top; the purple of the fowl-meadow along the low river-banks; the very dark and shadowy green of herd's-grass as if clouds were always passing over it; the fresh light green where June-grass has been cut; the fresh dark green where clover has been cut; the hard, dark green of pastures; the cheerful yellowish green of the meadows where the sedges prevail, with darker patches and veins of grass in the higher and drier parts.”)
I would fain take rivers in my walks endwise. See July 10, 1852 ("I make quite an excursion up and down the river in the water, a fluvial, a water walk. . . .Walking up and down a river in torrid weather with only a hat to shade the head.”)
If you make the least correctobservation of nature this year,you will have occasion to repeat itwith illustrations the next,and the season and life itself is prolonged.
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, July 22A 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 © 2009-2023
https://tinyurl.com/HDT22JULY
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