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
Some pleasant notes from
tree sparrows on the willows
as I paddle by.
I see in flocks and
hear sing now by wood-sides the
fox-colored sparrow.
November 5, 1854
I see shepherd’s-purse,
hedge-mustard, and red clover –
November flowers.
It is worth the while
to walk in swamps now, to bathe
your eyes with greenness.
Earliest to leaf –
aspen, willow, white maple –
last to lose their leaves.
November 5, 1858
And so thick a haze
that I could see but little
way down the harbor.
November 5, 1859
In the natural state
when given sufficient time
each tree knows its place.
The notes of the jays
attracted by the acorns –
the only sounds heard.
The cooler weather
heralds our winter with an
arch of northern lights.
November 5, 2020
The buds of the rhodora are among the more conspicuous now. November 5, 1853
Most of the muskrat-cabins were lately covered by the flood, but now that it has gone down in a great measure . . . I notice that they have not been washed away or much injured . . . What exactly are they for? This is not their breeding season . . . why do they need them more at this season than in the summer. November 5, 1853
I heard some pleasant notes from tree sparrows on the willows as I paddled by. November 5, 1853
I think it is the fox-colored sparrow I see in flocks and hear sing now by wood-sides. November 5, 1854
The brightness of the foliage generally ceased pretty exactly with October. November 5, 1855
I see the shepherd’s-purse, hedge-mustard, and red clover, — November flowers. November 5, 1855
The object I caught a glimpse of as I went by haunts my thoughts a long time, is infinitely suggestive, and I do not care to front it and scrutinize it, for I know that the thing that really concerns me is not there, but in my relation to that. That is a mere reflecting surface. It is not the polypody . . . that interests me, but the one that I pass by in my walks a little distance off, when in the right mood . . . Give your chief attention to the phenomenon which excites you [not] as something independent on you, [but] as it is related to you. The important fact is its effect on me . . . I care not whether my vision of truth is a waking thought or dream remembered. . . It is the subject of the vision, the truth alone, that concerns me . . . I find that it is not [objects] themselves . . . that concern me; the point of interest is somewhere between me and . . . the objects. November 5, 1857
It is worth the while to walk in swamps now, to bathe your eyes with greenness. The terminal shield fern is the handsomest and glossiest green. November 5, 1857
At this season polypody is in the air. It is worth the while to walk in swamps now, to bathe your eyes with greenness. November 5, 1857
Sometimes I would rather get a transient glimpse or side view of a thing than stand fronting to it, — as those polypodies. The object I caught a glimpse of as I went by haunts my thoughts a long time. November 5, 1857
Swamp-pink buds now begin to show. November 5, 1855
The still bright leaves which I see as I walk along the river edge of this swamp are birches, clear yellow at top; high blueberry, some very bright scarlet red still; some sallows. November 5, 1855
The few remaining topmost leaves of the Salix sericea, which were the last to change, are now yellow like those of the birch . . . A few Populus grandidentata leaves are still left on. November 5, 1858
Judging from the two aspens, this [white maple], and the willows, one would say that the earliest trees to leaf were, perhaps, the last to lose their leaves. November 5, 1858
I hear one cricket this louring day . . . It is quite still; no wind, no insect hum, and no note of birds, but one hairy woodpecker. November 5, 1858
The first Indian-summer day, after an unusually cold October . . . very warm, with scarcely a breath of wind, and so thick a haze that I could see but little way down the harbor. November 5, 1859
This wood is a hundred to a hundred and sixty years old. I am struck by the orderly arrangement of the trees, as if each knew its own place. As if in the natural state of things, when sufficient time is given, trees will be found occupying the places most suitable to each. November 5, 1860
The only sounds I hear are the notes of the jays, attracted by the acorns, and the only animal I see is a red squirrel. November 5, 1860
Last evening, the weather being cooler, there was an arch of northern lights in the north, with some redness Thus our winter is heralded. November 5, 1860
*****
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Polypody
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Swamp-pinkA Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Alders
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Blue Jay
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Tree Sparrow
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Northern Lights
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Indian Summer
*****
October 16, 1859 ("I see the new musquash-houses erected, conspicuous on the now nearly leafless shores . . . So surely as the sun appears to be in Libra or Scorpio, I see the conical winter lodges of the musquash rising.")
October 20, 1860 ("I examine Ebby Hubbard's old oak and pine wood. The trees may be a hundred years old.”)
October 23, 1857 ("The ferns which I can see on the bank, apparently all evergreens, are polypody at rock, marginal shield fern, terminal shield fern, and (I think it is) Aspidium spinulosum . . . The above-named evergreen ferns are so much the more conspicuous on that pale-brown ground. They stand out all at once and are seen to be evergreen; their character appears.”)
October 26, 1860 ("This is the season of birch spangles, when you see afar a few clear-yellow leaves left on the tops of the birches.")
October 28, 1857 (“On the causeway I see fox-colored sparrows flitting along in the willows and alders, uttering a faint cheep, and tree sparrows with them. ”)
October 30, 1853 ("Now, now is the time to look at the buds [of ] the swamp-pink, some yellowish, some, mixed with their oblong seed- vessels, red, etc.")
November 1, 1860 ("A perfect Indian-summer day, and wonderfully warm. 72+ at 1 P. M. and probably warmer at two.")
November 2, 1851 ("The muskrat-houses are mostly covered by the rise of the river! — not a very unexpected one either"); November 4, 1855 ("Many new muskrat-houses have been erected this wet weather.")
November 2, 1853 ("The November flowers, — flowers which survive severe frosts and the fall of the leaf. I see hedge-mustard very fresh.")
November 2, 1860 ("Wetherbee's oak wood ... The trees would average probably between a hundred and fifty and two hundred years. Such a wood has got to be very rare in this neighborhood.”)
November 2, 1857 ("My thoughts are with the polypody a long time after my body has passed.")
November 2, 1858 ("That small poplar seen from Cliffs on the 29th is a P. tremuloides. It makes the impression of a bright and clear yellow at a distance, though it is rather dingy and spotted. It is later, then (this and the Baker Farm one), than any P. grandidentata that I know. ")
November 3, 1852 ("Shepherd's-purse abundant still in gardens.");
November 4, 1851 ("The jays with their scream are at home in the scenery.")
November 4, 1854 ("The shad-bush buds have expanded into small leaflets already.”);
November 4, 1860 ("White birch seed has but recently begun to fall. I see a quarter of an inch of many catkins bare. May have begun for a week. To-day also I see distinctly the tree sparrows, and probably saw them, as supposed, some days ago. Thus the birch begins to shed its seed about the time our winter birds arrive from the north.")
November 7, 1855 ("Birds are pretty rare now. I hear a few tree sparrows in one place on the trees and bushes near the river, — a clear, chinking chirp and a half-strain,— a jay at a distance; and see a nuthatch flit with a ricochet flight across the river, and hear his gnah half uttered when he alights.")
November 7, 1857 ("This has been another Indian-summer day. Thermometer 58° at noon.")
November 8, 1857 ("The swamp-pink's large yellowish buds, too, are conspicuous now.")
November 10, 1853 ("There are still a few leaves on the large Populus tremuliformis, but they will be all gone in a day or two. They have turned quite yellow.")
November 10, 1858 ("Look for these late flowers —November flowers — on hills, above frost.")
November 10, 1858 ("By the 10th of November we conclude with the scarlet oak dulled (and the colors of October generally faded), with a few golden spangles on the white birches and on a lingering Populus tremuliformis.")
November 10, 1860 ("Inches Wood . . .as fine an oak wood as there is in New England.").
November 16, 1853 ("I now take notice of the green polypody on the rock and various other ferns,")
November 5, 2023
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.
September 5 <<<<<<<<< November 5 >>>>>>>> January 5A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, November 5A 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
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