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
October 25.
The cold wind rustles
tall dry grass along the shore
now very naked.
October 25, 1853
Suddenly cold and
The dark-eyed junco
flits amid the falling leaves
with its sharp twitter.
October 25, 1858
Rain in night. October 25, 1857
A rainy day and easterly wind, - an easterly storm. October 25, 1857
The muskrats must now prepare for winter in earnest. I see many places where they have left clamshells recently. October 25, 1855
The fresh clamshells opened by the musquash begin to be conspicuous. October 25, 1857
The white maples are completely bare. October 25, 1853
I see some alders about bare. October 25, 1858
Also I notice, when the sun is low, the light reflected from the parallel twigs of birches recently bare, etc., like the gleam from gossamer lines. October 25, 1858
The ground is strewn with
pine-needles as if sunlight,
the river dark blue.
tall dry grass along the shore
now very naked.
October 25, 1853
Wind roars in the wood.
Birds fly with difficulty.
A maple blown down.
October 25, 1853
The withered reeds are
reflected in the water
this calm afternoon.
Withered reeds on the
brink reflected in water
this calm afternoon.
A calm afternoon
reflected in the water –
Indian summer.
Suddenly cold and
windy, the risen waters
have an angry look.
The willows along
the river now begin to
look bare and wintry.
Novemberish light,
the trembling shimmer and gleam
of the pine-needles.
flits amid the falling leaves
with its sharp twitter.
October 25, 1858
*****
October 25, 2020
7 A. M. To Hubbard's Grove .October 25, 1853
The rain is over, the ground swept and washed. October 25, 1853
There is a high and cold west wind. Birds fly with difficulty against it. October 25, 1853
The brooks and the river are unexpectedly swelled with yesterday’s rain. October 25, 1853
I am surprised to see how much the river has risen. October 25, 1853
P.M .-- Sail down river to the pitch pine hill behind Abner Buttrick's, with a strong northwest wind, and cold. October 25, 1853
On Assabet. October 25, 1854
A beautiful, calm Indian-summer afternoon, the withered reeds on the brink reflected in the water. October 25, 1854
P. M. —I row up the river, which has risen eight or nine inches. October 25, 1855
After these pleasant and warm days it is suddenly cold and windy, and the risen waters have an angry look. October 25, 1855
It is uncomfortable rowing with wet hands in this wind. October 25, 1855
P. M. – By boat to Battle-Ground. October 25, 1857
Rain in night. October 25, 1857
A rainy day and easterly wind, - an easterly storm. October 25, 1857
This is the coolest day thus far, reminding me that I have only a half-thick coat on. October 25, 1858
The easterly wind comes cold into my ear, as yet unused to it. October 25, 1858
The muskrats must now prepare for winter in earnest. I see many places where they have left clamshells recently. October 25, 1855
The fresh clamshells opened by the musquash begin to be conspicuous. October 25, 1857
Now gather all your apples, if you have not before, or the frost will have them. October 25, 1855
The swamp white oaks in front of N. Barrett's — their leafy tops — look quite silvery at a distance in the sun, very different from near to. October 25, 1853
The ground is strewn with pine-needles as sunlight. October 25, 1853
The white maples are completely bare. October 25, 1853
The maples being bare, the great hornet nests are exposed. October 25, 1854
At the pond the black birches are bare; how long? October 25, 1858
I see some alders about bare. October 25, 1858
Aspens (tremuliformis) generally bare. October 25, 1858
The leaves of the Populus grandidentata, though half fallen and turned a pure and handsome yellow, are still wagging as fast as ever. October 25, 1858
The willows along the river now begin to look faded and somewhat bare and wintry. October 25, 1855
The dead wool-grass, etc., characterizes the shore.October 25, 1855
The tall dry grass along the shore rustles in the cold wind. October 25, 1853
The shores are very naked now. October 25, 1853
The river is a very dark blue. October 25, 1853
The wind roars in the wood. October 25, 1853
A maple is blown down. October 25, 1853
I see flying very high over the meadow, from the east, eleven large birds, leisurely circling a little by the way, surveying the bare meadow. I think they must be fish hawks. October 25, 1857
In the cut the F. hyemalis, which has been here for a month, flits away with its sharp twitter amid the falling leaves. This is a fall sound. October 25, 1858
Now, as you walk in woods, the leaves rustle under your feet as much as ever. In some places you walk pushing a mass before you. October 25, 1858
Now, especially, we notice not only the silvery leaves of the Salix alba but the silvery sheen of pine—needles; i. e., when its old leaves have fallen and trees generally are mostly bare, in the cool Novemberish air and light we observe and enjoy the trembling shimmer and gleam of the pine-needles. October 25, 1858
Also I notice, when the sun is low, the light reflected from the parallel twigs of birches recently bare, etc., like the gleam from gossamer lines. October 25, 1858
This is another Novemberish phenomenon. Call these November Lights. Hers is a cool, silvery light. October 25, 1858
In November consider the sharp, dry rustle of withered leaves; the cool, silvery, and shimmering gleams of light . . . the fresh bright buds formed and exposed along the twigs. October 25, 1858
I am amused to see that Varro tells us that the Latin e represents the vowel sound in the bleat of a sheep (Bee). October 25, 1857
If he had said in any word pronounced by the Romans we should be not the wiser, but we do not doubt that sheep bleat to-day as they did then. October 25, 1857
October 25, 2020
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Musquash
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau. Wasps and Hornets
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The White Pines
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Birches in Season
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Aspens
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Pine Fall
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, October Moods
October 10, 1851 ("You make a great noise now walking in the woods.")
October 16, 1859 ("This clear, cold, Novemberish light is inspiriting. Some twigs which are bare and weeds begin to glitter with hoary light. The very edge or outline of a tawny or russet hill has this hoary fight on it. Your thoughts sparkle like the water surface and the downy twigs.")
October 20, 1853 ("How pleasant to walk over beds of these fresh, crisp, and rustling fallen leaves!")
October 22, 1854 ('Now they rustle as you walk through them in the woods.")
October 22, 1857 ("As I go through the woods now, so many oak and other leaves have fallen the rustling noise somewhat disturbs my musing. ")
October 28, 1852 ("I hear no sound but the rustling of the withered leaves, and, on the wooded hilltops, the roar of the wind.”)
October 28, 1860 ("We make a great noise going through the fallen leaves in the woods and wood-paths now, so that we cannot hear other sounds. ”)
October 25, 2014
If you make the least correct
observation of nature this year,
you will have occasion to repeat it
with illustrations the next,
and the season and life itself is prolonged.
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, October 25
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 © 2009-2022
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 © 2009-2020
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