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
The black birch catkins
droop at the ends of the twigs
bent down by their weight.
Immortal water
strange to us forever
sparkling with life.
It grows dark around.
The full moon rises and I
paddle by its light.
 |
| MAY 8 2018 |
The swollen leaf-buds of the white pine — and yet more the pitch pine — look whitish, and show life in the tree. May 8, 1859
A week ago the deciduous woods had not this misty look. May 8, 1853
It is a glorious evening. I scent the expanding willow leaves (for there are very few blossoms yet) fifteen rods off. Already hear the cheerful, sprightly note of the yellowbird amid them. It is perfectly warm and still, and the green grass reminds me of June. The air is full of the fragrance of willow leaves. The high water stretches smooth around. May 8, 1857
The ring of toads, the note of the yellowbird, the rich warble of the red-wing, the thrasher on the hillside, the robin's evening song, the woodpecker tapping some dead tree across the water; and I see countless little fuzzy gnats in the air, and dust over the road, between me and the departed sun. May 8, 1857
See two great devil's-needles go by coupled, the foremost blue, the second brown. May 8, 1859
It grows dark around. The full moon rises, and I paddle by its light. May 8, 1857
Venus is the evening star and the only star yet visible. Starlight marks conveniently a stage in the evening, i. e. when the first star can be seen. May 8, 1852
Saw a small hawk flying low, the only hawk of this size that I have seen this season. See October 17, 1858 ("Saw a small hawk come flying over the Assabet, . . . it had a very distinct black head, with apparently a yellowish-brown , breast and beneath and a brown back, — both, however, quite light, — and a yellowish tail with a distinct broad black band at the tip. . . .Could it have been a sparrow hawk?")
I feel exhilaration, mingled with a slight awe, as I drive before this strong wind over the great black-backed waves. . . . See April 29, 1856 ("It is flattering to a sense of power to make the wayward wind our horse and sit with our hand on the tiller. Sailing is much like flying, and from the birth of our race men have been charmed by it."); March 16, 1860(" I make more boisterous and stormy voyages now than at any season. . . . I vastly increase my sphere and experience by a boat.”); October 27, 1857 (“It is exciting to feel myself tossed by the dark waves and hear them surge about me. . . .How they run and leap in great droves, deriving new excitement from each other!”)
They are melaina — what is the Greek for waves?-- Greek μελαινα (melaina) meaning "black, dark"
Already hear the cheerful, sprightly note of the yellowbird amid them. See May 8, 1854 (“Hear a yellowbird in the direction of the willows. Its note coarsely represented by che-che-che-char-char- char.”); May 8 1859 ("Summer yellowbird.”) and note to May 11, 1856 ("At a distance I hear the first yellow-bird. . . . All these willows blossom. . .”).
The full moon rises, and I paddle by its light. It is an evening for the soft-snoring, purring frogs (which I suspect to be Rana palustris). See April 11, 1854 ("Hear a slight snoring of frogs on the bared meadows. Is it not the R. palustris? This the first moon to walk by.”)
Such an evening makes a crisis in the year. Compare July 18, 1854 (“The atmosphere now imparts a bluish or glaucous tinge to the distant trees. A certain debauched look. This a crisis in the season.”); August 20, 1854 (“When the red-eye ceases generally, then I think is a crisis, — the woodland quire is dissolved.”)
Mr. Wright , an old fisherman, thinks the stone-heaps are not made by lamprey . See May 4, 1858 ("I asked him if he knew what fish made the stone-heaps in the river. He said the lamprey eel.")
The herb-of-St.-Barbara. See May 14, 1857 ("Herb-of-St.-Barbara, how long?")
I judge that Prichard's Canada plum may have opened to-day. See note to May 10, 1856 (“Mr. Prichard’s Canada plum will open as soon as it is fair weather.”)
Summer yellowbird. Indeed, several new birds have come, and many new insects, with the expanding leafets. See . May 8, 1854 (“Hear a yellowbird in the direction of the willows. Its note coarsely represented by che-che-che-char-char- char”); May 8, 1857 ("The ring of toads, the note of the yellowbird, the rich warble of the red-wing, the thrasher on the hillside, the robin's evening song, the woodpecker tapping some dead tree across the water "); May 10, 1858 (" For some days the Salix alba have shown their yellow wreaths here and there, suggesting the coming of the yellowbird, and now they are alive with them.")
Several new birds have come, and many new insects, with the expanding leafets. Catbird. See April 18, 1852 (I would make a chart of our life, know why just this circle of creatures completes the world, what kinds of birds come with what flowers.) May 8, 1857 ("From amid the alders, etc., I hear the mew of the catbird and the yorrick of Wilson's thrush.")
The catkins of the black birch gracefully drooping at the ends of the twigs bent down by their weight, conspicuous at a distance in wisps, very rich golden. See May 12, 1853 ("The black birch is now a beautiful sight, its long, slender, bushy branches waving in the wind ( the leaf-buds but just beginning to unfold ), with countless little tassel like bunches of five or six golden catkins, spotted with brown and three inches long, one bunch at the end of each drooping twig, hanging straight down, or dangling like heads of rye, or blown off at various angles with the horizon."); May 17, 1856 ("The bunches of numerous rich golden catkins, hanging straight down on all sides and trembling in the breeze, contrast agreeably with the graceful attitude of the tree, commonly more or less inclined.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Birches in Season
Some thrashers are plainly better singers than others. See May 3, 1852 ("Hear the first brown thrasher, — two of them. They drown all the rest. He says cherruwit, cherruwit ; go ahead, go ahead; give it to him, give it to him"); May 4, 1859 ("We hear a thrasher sing for half an hour steadily, — a very rich singer and heard a quarter of a mile off very distinctly"); May 12, 1855 (The brown thrasher is a powerful singer; he is a quarter of a mile off across the river, when he sounded within fifteen rods"")
The fruit of the Populus grandidentata appears puffed up. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau,the Big-toothed Aspen
The small pewee, how long. See May 7, 1852 (" The first small pewee sings now che-vet, or rather chirrups chevet, tche-vet — a rather delicate bird with a large head and two white bars on wings."). See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau,the “Small Pewee"
The night-warbler's note. See May 8, 1852 ("The night-warbler while it is yet pretty light."); May 28, 1854 ("The night-warbler, after his strain, drops down almost perpendicularly into a tree-top and is lost.”); According to Emerson the night warbler is "a bird he had never identified, had been in search of twelve years, which always, when he saw it, was in the act of diving down into a tree or bush.” Probably the flight song of the oven-bird. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Oven-bird.
Surprised by the brilliant pale scarlet flowers of the painted-cup (Castilleja coccinea) just coming into bloom. See note to June 3, 1853 ("The painted-cup is in its prime. It is a splendid show of brilliant scarlet, It might be called flame-flower, or scarlet-tip. Here is a large meadow full of it, and yet very few in the town have ever seen it.")
Stone-heaps, how long? See May 4, 1858 ("I asked [a fisherman] if he knew what fish made the stone-heaps in the river. He said the lamprey eel.”) May 8, 1858 ("Mr. Wright . . ., an old fisherman, remembers the lamprey eels well, which he used to see in the Assabet there, but thinks that there have been none in the river for a dozen years and that the stone-heaps are not made by them. "); May 12, 1858 ("George, the carpenter, says that he used to see a great many stone-heaps in the Saco in Bartlett, near the White Mountains, like those in the Assabet, and that there were no lampreys there and they called them “snake-heaps.”); July 31, 1859 ("A man fishing at the Ox-Bow said without hesitation that the stone-heaps were made by the sucker, at any rate that he had seen them made by the sucker in Charles River,")
The cinquefoil is closed in a cloudy day, and when the sun shines it is turned toward it. See May 2, 1860 ("The early potentillas are now quite abundant."); May 17, 1853 ("The early cinquefoil is now in its prime and spots the banks and hillsides and dry meadows with its dazzling yellow. How lively! It is one of the most interesting yellow flowers. ")
The simple peep peep of the peetweet, as it flies away from the shore before me, sounds hollow and rather mournful. See May 2, 1859 ("The river seems really inhabited when the peetweet is back . . ... This bird does not return to our stream until the weather is decidedly pleasant and warm. . . .Its note peoples the river, like the prattle of children once more in the yard of a house that has stood empty."); May 4, 1856 (“As soon as the rocks begin to be bare the peetweet comes and is seen teetering on them and skimming away from me.”)
How the marsh hawk circles or skims low, round and round over a particular place in a meadow. See May 2, 1855 ("Was that a harrier seen at first skimming low then seating and circling, with a broad whiteness on the wings beneath"); May 2, 1858 (" How patiently they skim the meadows, occasionally alighting, and fluttering "); May 14, 1855 (" See a male hen-harrier skimming low along the side of the river, often within a foot of the muddy shore, . . .Occasionally he alights and walks or hops flutteringly a foot or two over the ground")
C. has seen a brown thrasher and a republican swallow to-day. See May 7, 1852 ("Beginning, I may say, with robins, song sparrows, chip-birds, bluebirds, etc., I walk through larks, pewees, pigeon woodpeckers, chickadees, towhees, huckleberry-birds, wood thrushes, brown thrasher, jay, catbird, "); May 8, 1857 ("The ring of toads, the note of the yellowbird, the rich warble of the red-wing, the thrasher on the hillside, the robin's evening song, the woodpecker tapping some dead tree across the water")
I am most impressed by the rapidity of the changes within a week. May 8, 1852
Summer has suddenly come upon us, and the birds all together. May 8, 1857
Lee's Cliff is now a perfect natural rockery for flowers. These gray cliffs and scattered rocks, with upright faces below, reflect the heat like a hothouse. The ground is whitened with the little white cymes of the saxifrage, now shot up to six or eight inches, and more flower-like dangling scarlet columbines are seen against the gray rocks, and here and there the earth is spotted with yellow crowfoots and a few early cinque-foils. . . .the now mostly effete sedge, the few Viola ovata, — whose deep violet is another kind of flame, as the crowfoot is yellow, — hanging their heads low in the sod, and the as yet inconspicuous veronica. May 8, 1854
The cinque-foil is closed in a cloudy day, and when the sun shines it is turned toward it. May 8, 1860
Surprised by the brilliant pale scarlet flowers of the painted-cup (Castilleja coccinea) just coming into bloom. May 8, 1853
Summer has suddenly come upon us, and the birds all together. May 8, 1857
A singular noise from a jay this morning. May 8, 1852
The simple peep peep of the peetweet, as it flies away from the shore before me, sounds hollow and rather mournful. May 8, 1860
Hear a yellowbird in the direction of the willows. Its note coarsely represented by che-che-che-char-char- char. May 8, 1854
Summer yellowbird. . . . Indeed, several new birds have come, and many new insects, with the expanding leafets. May 8, 1859
The simple peep peep of the peetweet, as it flies away from the shore before me, sounds hollow and rather mournful. May 8, 1860
Hear a yellowbird in the direction of the willows. Its note coarsely represented by che-che-che-char-char- char. May 8, 1854
Summer yellowbird. . . . Indeed, several new birds have come, and many new insects, with the expanding leafets. May 8, 1859
Some thrashers are plainly better singers than others. May 8, 1853
The song sparrow and the robin sing early and late. The night-warbler while it is yet pretty light . . . Do I not hear the veery's yorick? May 8, 1852
The small pewee, how long. The night-warbler's note. May 8, 1860
A female red-wing. I have not seen any before. May 8, 1854
The blackbirds fly in flocks and sing in concert on the willows, — what a lively, chattering concert ! a great deal of chattering with many liquid and rich warbling notes and clear whistles, — till now a hawk sails low, beating the bush: and they are silent or off, but soon begin again. May 8, 1852
A female red-wing. I have not seen any before. May 8, 1854
The blackbirds fly in flocks and sing in concert on the willows, — what a lively, chattering concert ! a great deal of chattering with many liquid and rich warbling notes and clear whistles, — till now a hawk sails low, beating the bush: and they are silent or off, but soon begin again. May 8, 1852
How the marsh hawk circles or skims low, round and round over a particular place in a meadow, where, perhaps, it has seen a frog, screaming once or twice, and then alights on a fence-post! How it crosses the causeway between the willows, at a gap in them with which it is familiar. May 8, 1860
A small hawk flying low, about size of a robin — tail with black bars . . .Probably this the only hawk of this size that I have seen this season. May 8, 1854
A small hawk flying low, about size of a robin — tail with black bars . . .Probably this the only hawk of this size that I have seen this season. May 8, 1854
The young sugar maples in our streets are now green with young leaves. May 8, 1852
Apple trees begin to make a show with their green. May 8, 1859
The fruit of the Populus grandidentata appears puffed up and blasted into a large bright yellow, like some plums some seasons. May 8, 1853
Apple trees begin to make a show with their green. May 8, 1859
The fruit of the Populus grandidentata appears puffed up and blasted into a large bright yellow, like some plums some seasons. May 8, 1853
The catkins of the black birch gracefully drooping at the ends of the twigs bent down by their weight, conspicuous at a distance. May 8, 1853
Some hickory buds are nearly two inches long. May 8, 1853
The cinque-foil is closed in a cloudy day, and when the sun shines it is turned toward it. May 8, 1860
Surprised by the brilliant pale scarlet flowers of the painted-cup (Castilleja coccinea) just coming into bloom. May 8, 1853
The landscape is in some respects more interesting because of the overcast sky, threatening rain; a cold southwest wind. May 8, 1853
I hear the voices of farmers driving their cows past to their up-country pastures now. May 8, 1854
We are slow to realize water, — the beauty and magic of it. It is interestingly strange to us forever. Immortal water, alive even in the superficies, restlessly heaving now and tossing me and my boat, and sparkling with life! I look round with a thrill on this bright fluctuating surface on which no man can walk, whereon is no trace of footstep, unstained as glass. I feel exhilaration, mingled with a slight awe as I drive before this strong wind over the great black-backed waves, cutting through them, and hear their surging and feel them toss me. . . They are so black, — as no sea I have seen, — large and powerful, and make such a roaring around me . . . They are melaina — what is the Greek for waves? This is our black sea. May 8, 1854
We are slow to realize water, — the beauty and magic of it. It is interestingly strange to us forever. Immortal water, alive even in the superficies, restlessly heaving now and tossing me and my boat, and sparkling with life! I look round with a thrill on this bright fluctuating surface on which no man can walk, whereon is no trace of footstep, unstained as glass. I feel exhilaration, mingled with a slight awe as I drive before this strong wind over the great black-backed waves, cutting through them, and hear their surging and feel them toss me. . . They are so black, — as no sea I have seen, — large and powerful, and make such a roaring around me . . . They are melaina — what is the Greek for waves? This is our black sea. May 8, 1854
It is a glorious evening. I scent the expanding willow leaves (for there are very few blossoms yet) fifteen rods off. Already hear the cheerful, sprightly note of the yellowbird amid them. It is perfectly warm and still, and the green grass reminds me of June. The air is full of the fragrance of willow leaves. The high water stretches smooth around. May 8, 1857
The ring of toads, the note of the yellowbird, the rich warble of the red-wing, the thrasher on the hillside, the robin's evening song, the woodpecker tapping some dead tree across the water; and I see countless little fuzzy gnats in the air, and dust over the road, between me and the departed sun. May 8, 1857
See two great devil's-needles go by coupled, the foremost blue, the second brown. May 8, 1859
It grows dark around. The full moon rises, and I paddle by its light. May 8, 1857
It is an evening for the soft-snoring, purring frogs (which I suspect to be Rana palustris). I get within a few feet of them as they sit along the edge of the river and meadow, but cannot see them. Their croak is very fine or rapid, and has a soft, purring sound at a little distance. May 8. 1857
Venus is the evening star and the only star yet visible. Starlight marks conveniently a stage in the evening, i. e. when the first star can be seen. May 8, 1852
*****
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau. The world can never be more beautiful than now.
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau. Summer
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Crowfoot (Ranunculus fascicularis
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Birches in Season
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Fuzzy Gnats (tipulidæ)
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Ring of Toads
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Spring Sounds. Woodpeckers Tapping
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Song Sparrow
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Red-wing in Early Spring
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the “Small Pewee"
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Robin in Spring
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Marsh Hawk
Saw a small hawk flying low, the only hawk of this size that I have seen this season. See October 17, 1858 ("Saw a small hawk come flying over the Assabet, . . . it had a very distinct black head, with apparently a yellowish-brown , breast and beneath and a brown back, — both, however, quite light, — and a yellowish tail with a distinct broad black band at the tip. . . .Could it have been a sparrow hawk?")
I feel exhilaration, mingled with a slight awe, as I drive before this strong wind over the great black-backed waves. . . . See April 29, 1856 ("It is flattering to a sense of power to make the wayward wind our horse and sit with our hand on the tiller. Sailing is much like flying, and from the birth of our race men have been charmed by it."); March 16, 1860(" I make more boisterous and stormy voyages now than at any season. . . . I vastly increase my sphere and experience by a boat.”); October 27, 1857 (“It is exciting to feel myself tossed by the dark waves and hear them surge about me. . . .How they run and leap in great droves, deriving new excitement from each other!”)
They are melaina — what is the Greek for waves?-- Greek μελαινα (melaina) meaning "black, dark"
Already hear the cheerful, sprightly note of the yellowbird amid them. See May 8, 1854 (“Hear a yellowbird in the direction of the willows. Its note coarsely represented by che-che-che-char-char- char.”); May 8 1859 ("Summer yellowbird.”) and note to May 11, 1856 ("At a distance I hear the first yellow-bird. . . . All these willows blossom. . .”).
The full moon rises, and I paddle by its light. It is an evening for the soft-snoring, purring frogs (which I suspect to be Rana palustris). See April 11, 1854 ("Hear a slight snoring of frogs on the bared meadows. Is it not the R. palustris? This the first moon to walk by.”)
Such an evening makes a crisis in the year. Compare July 18, 1854 (“The atmosphere now imparts a bluish or glaucous tinge to the distant trees. A certain debauched look. This a crisis in the season.”); August 20, 1854 (“When the red-eye ceases generally, then I think is a crisis, — the woodland quire is dissolved.”)
Mr. Wright , an old fisherman, thinks the stone-heaps are not made by lamprey . See May 4, 1858 ("I asked him if he knew what fish made the stone-heaps in the river. He said the lamprey eel.")
The herb-of-St.-Barbara. See May 14, 1857 ("Herb-of-St.-Barbara, how long?")
I judge that Prichard's Canada plum may have opened to-day. See note to May 10, 1856 (“Mr. Prichard’s Canada plum will open as soon as it is fair weather.”)
Summer yellowbird. Indeed, several new birds have come, and many new insects, with the expanding leafets. See . May 8, 1854 (“Hear a yellowbird in the direction of the willows. Its note coarsely represented by che-che-che-char-char- char”); May 8, 1857 ("The ring of toads, the note of the yellowbird, the rich warble of the red-wing, the thrasher on the hillside, the robin's evening song, the woodpecker tapping some dead tree across the water "); May 10, 1858 (" For some days the Salix alba have shown their yellow wreaths here and there, suggesting the coming of the yellowbird, and now they are alive with them.")
Several new birds have come, and many new insects, with the expanding leafets. Catbird. See April 18, 1852 (I would make a chart of our life, know why just this circle of creatures completes the world, what kinds of birds come with what flowers.) May 8, 1857 ("From amid the alders, etc., I hear the mew of the catbird and the yorrick of Wilson's thrush.")
The catkins of the black birch gracefully drooping at the ends of the twigs bent down by their weight, conspicuous at a distance in wisps, very rich golden. See May 12, 1853 ("The black birch is now a beautiful sight, its long, slender, bushy branches waving in the wind ( the leaf-buds but just beginning to unfold ), with countless little tassel like bunches of five or six golden catkins, spotted with brown and three inches long, one bunch at the end of each drooping twig, hanging straight down, or dangling like heads of rye, or blown off at various angles with the horizon."); May 17, 1856 ("The bunches of numerous rich golden catkins, hanging straight down on all sides and trembling in the breeze, contrast agreeably with the graceful attitude of the tree, commonly more or less inclined.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Birches in Season
Some thrashers are plainly better singers than others. See May 3, 1852 ("Hear the first brown thrasher, — two of them. They drown all the rest. He says cherruwit, cherruwit ; go ahead, go ahead; give it to him, give it to him"); May 4, 1859 ("We hear a thrasher sing for half an hour steadily, — a very rich singer and heard a quarter of a mile off very distinctly"); May 12, 1855 (The brown thrasher is a powerful singer; he is a quarter of a mile off across the river, when he sounded within fifteen rods"")
The fruit of the Populus grandidentata appears puffed up. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau,the Big-toothed Aspen
The small pewee, how long. See May 7, 1852 (" The first small pewee sings now che-vet, or rather chirrups chevet, tche-vet — a rather delicate bird with a large head and two white bars on wings."). See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau,the “Small Pewee"
The night-warbler's note. See May 8, 1852 ("The night-warbler while it is yet pretty light."); May 28, 1854 ("The night-warbler, after his strain, drops down almost perpendicularly into a tree-top and is lost.”); According to Emerson the night warbler is "a bird he had never identified, had been in search of twelve years, which always, when he saw it, was in the act of diving down into a tree or bush.” Probably the flight song of the oven-bird. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Oven-bird.
Surprised by the brilliant pale scarlet flowers of the painted-cup (Castilleja coccinea) just coming into bloom. See note to June 3, 1853 ("The painted-cup is in its prime. It is a splendid show of brilliant scarlet, It might be called flame-flower, or scarlet-tip. Here is a large meadow full of it, and yet very few in the town have ever seen it.")
Stone-heaps, how long? See May 4, 1858 ("I asked [a fisherman] if he knew what fish made the stone-heaps in the river. He said the lamprey eel.”) May 8, 1858 ("Mr. Wright . . ., an old fisherman, remembers the lamprey eels well, which he used to see in the Assabet there, but thinks that there have been none in the river for a dozen years and that the stone-heaps are not made by them. "); May 12, 1858 ("George, the carpenter, says that he used to see a great many stone-heaps in the Saco in Bartlett, near the White Mountains, like those in the Assabet, and that there were no lampreys there and they called them “snake-heaps.”); July 31, 1859 ("A man fishing at the Ox-Bow said without hesitation that the stone-heaps were made by the sucker, at any rate that he had seen them made by the sucker in Charles River,")
The cinquefoil is closed in a cloudy day, and when the sun shines it is turned toward it. See May 2, 1860 ("The early potentillas are now quite abundant."); May 17, 1853 ("The early cinquefoil is now in its prime and spots the banks and hillsides and dry meadows with its dazzling yellow. How lively! It is one of the most interesting yellow flowers. ")
The simple peep peep of the peetweet, as it flies away from the shore before me, sounds hollow and rather mournful. See May 2, 1859 ("The river seems really inhabited when the peetweet is back . . ... This bird does not return to our stream until the weather is decidedly pleasant and warm. . . .Its note peoples the river, like the prattle of children once more in the yard of a house that has stood empty."); May 4, 1856 (“As soon as the rocks begin to be bare the peetweet comes and is seen teetering on them and skimming away from me.”)
How the marsh hawk circles or skims low, round and round over a particular place in a meadow. See May 2, 1855 ("Was that a harrier seen at first skimming low then seating and circling, with a broad whiteness on the wings beneath"); May 2, 1858 (" How patiently they skim the meadows, occasionally alighting, and fluttering "); May 14, 1855 (" See a male hen-harrier skimming low along the side of the river, often within a foot of the muddy shore, . . .Occasionally he alights and walks or hops flutteringly a foot or two over the ground")
C. has seen a brown thrasher and a republican swallow to-day. See May 7, 1852 ("Beginning, I may say, with robins, song sparrows, chip-birds, bluebirds, etc., I walk through larks, pewees, pigeon woodpeckers, chickadees, towhees, huckleberry-birds, wood thrushes, brown thrasher, jay, catbird, "); May 8, 1857 ("The ring of toads, the note of the yellowbird, the rich warble of the red-wing, the thrasher on the hillside, the robin's evening song, the woodpecker tapping some dead tree across the water")
It is a glorious evening. . . .I must make haste home and go out on the water. See August 31, 1852 ("This is the most glorious part of this day, . . . and the most suggestive. . . . Evening is pensive. The serenity is far more remarkable to those who are on the water.”)
May 8, 2015
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
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, May 8
"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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