The Indian summer continues.

October 11.   P. M. — To Cliffs. 

The Indian summer continues. 

Solidagos now generally show woolly heads along the fences and brooks. 

E. Hosmer said yesterday that his father remembered when there was but one store in Concord, and that the little office attached to Dr. Heywood's house, kept by Beatton. I remember the old shutters with names of groceries on them. Perhaps, then, Jones was the only shopkeeper in his day. 

I was speaking of it to Farrar, the blacksmith, to-day, and he said, yes, he had heard his father speak of Beatton as "the most honestest man that ever was." When a child was sent to his store and he could not make change within half a penny he would stick a row of pins in the child's sleeve, enough to make all square. He said he had only a keg of molasses and a bladder of snuff when he began. 

Farrar thought that the spirit manufactured a century ago was not so adulterated and poisonous as that now made. He could remember when delirium tremens was very rare. There was Luke Dodge; he could remember him a drunkard for more than forty years, yet he was now between eighty and ninety. 

Farrar gave me a wing and foot of a hawk which he shot about three weeks ago as he was sitting on a wood pile by the railroad, against R. W. E.'s lot. He called it a partridge hawk; said he was about as big as a partridge and his back of a similar color, and had not a white rump. This foot has a sharp shin and stout claws, but the wing is much larger than that of the Falco fuscus (or sharp-shinned hawk), being, with the shoulder attached, sixteen inches long, which would make the alar extent some thirty-three inches, which is the size of the F. Pennsylvanicus (Broad-winged Hawk). This wing corresponds in its markings very exactly with the description of that, and I must so consider it. Peabody does not describe any such bird, and Nuttall describes it as very rare, — apparently he has not seen one, — and says that Wilson had seen only two. 

Bay-wing sparrows numerous. 

In the woods I hear the note of the jay, a metallic, clanging sound, some times a mew. Refer any strange note to him. 

The scent of decaying leaves after the wet fall is a very agreeable fragrance on all sides in the woods now, like a garret full of herbs. 

In the path, as I go up the hill beyond the springs, on the edge of Stow's sprout-land, I find a little snake which somebody has killed with his heel. It is apparently Coluber amamus, the red snake. Brown above, light-red beneath, about eight inches long, but the end of its tail is gone (only three quarters of an inch of it left). I count some one hundred and twenty-seven plates. It is a conspicuous light red beneath, then a bluish-gray line along the sides, and above this brown with a line of lighter or yellowish brown down the middle of the back. 

The sprout-land and stubble behind the Cliffs are all alive with restless flocks of sparrows of various species. I distinguish F. hyemalis, song sparrow, apparently F. juncorum or maybe tree sparrows,1 and chip-birds (?). They are continually flitting past and surging upward, two or more in pursuit of each other, in the air, where they break like waves, and pass along with a faint cheep. On the least alarm many will rise from a juniper bush on to a shrub oak above it, and, when all is quiet, return into the juniper, perhaps for its berries. It is often hard to detect them as they sit on the young trees, now beginning to be bare, for they are very nearly the color of the bark and are very cunning to hide behind the leaves. There are apparently two other kinds, one like purple finches, another more like large Savannah sparrows. 

The shrub oak plain is now in the perfection of its coloring, the red of young oaks with the green of spiring birches intermixed. A rich rug. 

It is perfect Indian summer, a thick haze forming wreaths in the near horizon. The sun is almost shorn of its rays now at mid-afternoon, and there is only a sheeny reflection from the river. 

The patches of huckleberries on Conantum are now red. 

Here on the Cliffs are fresh poke flowers and small snapdragon and corydalis. 

The white goldenrod is still common here, and covered with bees.

Hieracium venosum still. 

I see pretty dense spreading radical leaves about the pinweeds, apparently recent.

A cuckoo is heard.

I find that the rough, white, crystalled-surfaced pigeon-egg fungus (one was noticed in report of October 5th) are puffballs. The outer thick white coat peels off first. I see it so now, but not in segments like the stellata. 

A pasture thistle with many fresh flowers and bees on it.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, October 11, 1856

The Indian summer continues . . . perfect Indian summer, a thick haze forming wreaths in the near horizon. See October 10, 1856 ("These are the finest days in the year, Indian summer.This afternoon it is 80°,"); October 19, 1855 ("Does not this haze mark the Indian summer? ") See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Indian Summer

Solidagos now generally show woolly heads along the fences and brooks. See October 17, 1856 ("Frost has now within three or four days turned almost all flowers to woolly heads, — their November aspect")

Farrar gave me a wing and foot of a hawk  . . . the size of the F. Pennsylvanicus (Broad-winged Hawk). This wing corresponds in its markings very exactly with the description of that, and I must so consider it. See July 21, 1858 (" A young man killed one of the young hawks, and I saw it. It was the Falco fuscus, the American brown or slate-colored hawk.. . . In hand I found it had the white spots on scapulars of the F. fuscus, and had not the white bars on tail of the F. Pennsylvanicus. It also had the fine sharp shin.But what then is my hawk killed by Farrar, with so stout a leg? Had that any white bars on tail? 

Bay-wing sparrows numerous. See April 15, 1859 (“The bay-wing now sings — the first I have been able to hear ”); October 9, 1858 (“Bay-wings flit along road.”); ;October 12, 1859 ("I see scattered flocks of bay-wings amid the weeds and on the fences.") October 16, 1855 ("I look at a grass-bird on a wall in the dry Great Fields. There is a dirty-white or cream-colored line above the eye and another from the angle of the mouth beneath it and a white ring close about the eye. The breast is streaked with this creamy white and dark brown in streams, as on the cover of a book.") A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Bay-Wing Sparrow

Refer any strange note to him. See  February 17, 1855 ("The jays are uttering their unusual notes.");  October 6, 1856  ("The jay's shrill note is more distinct of late about the edges of the woods, when so many birds have left us."); See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Blue Jay

The scent of decaying leaves after the wet fall is a very agreeable fragrance. See October 20, 1855 ("Agreeable to me is the scent of the withered and decaying leaves. It is the scent of the year, passing away.")

I find a little snake which somebody has killed with his heel. It is apparently Coluber amamus, See  April 29, 1858 ("Noticed a man killing, on the sidewalk by Minott's, a little brown snake with blackish marks along each side of back and a pink belly. Was it not the Coluber amaenus?"); April 26, 1857 ("I have the same objection to killing a snake that I have to the killing of any other animal, yet the most humane man that I know never omits to kill one.”).

Luke Dodge [was] a drunkard for more than forty years, yet he was now between eighty and ninety. See May 4, 1856 ("Was surprised to hear him say, “I am in my eighty-third year.”  . . It is encouraging to know that a man may fish and paddle in this river in his eighty-third year.")

The sprout-land and stubble behind the Cliffs are all alive with restless flocks of sparrows of various species. See  October 8, 1856  ("The trees and weeds by the Turnpike are all alive this pleasant afternoon with twittering sparrows . . . I observe white-throated sparrows, song sparrows, I think some Fringilla juncorum, etc. (maybe tree sparrows ???). They are all together and keep up a faint warbling, apparently the white-throats and tree sparrows, — if the last are there. A song sparrow utters a full strain.")

The shrub oak plain is now in the perfection of its coloring, the red of young oaks with the green of spiring birches intermixed. A rich rug. See October 2, 1851 ("The shrub oaks on the terraced plain are now almost uniformly of a deep red"); October 7, 1857 ("Some shrub oaks are yellow, others reddish."); October 9, 1851 ("The hills and plain on the opposite side of the river are covered with deep warm red leaves of shrub oaks."); 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") See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau,  The Shrub Oak.

The white goldenrod is still common here, and covered with bees.  See September 21, 1856 ("White goldenrod, now in its prime and swarming with honey-bees.");  August 12, 1852 ("Solidago bicolor, white goldenrod, apparently in good season");  August 21, 1856 ("The bicolor, just begun in some places. "); October 2, 1856 ("Solidago bicolor considerably past prime"); Octpber 8, 1856 ("S. bicolor in some places, are common still");   I. October 12, 1856 ("t is interesting to see how some of the few flowers which still linger are frequented by bees and other insects. Their resources begin to fail and they are improving their last chance. I have noticed them of late, especially on white goldenrod and pasture thistles."); October 26, 1852 ("The blue-stemmed and white goldenrod apparently survive till winter. – push up and blossom anew.") 

Hieracium venosum still. See June 15, 1851 ("The Hieracium venosum, veiny-leaved hawkweed, with its yellow blossoms in the woodland path. ");  August 21, 1851  ("I have now found all the hawkweeds. Singular these genera of plants, plants manifestly related yet distinct. They suggest a history to nature, a natural history in a new sense. ");  October 2, 1852 ("The veiny-leaved hawkweed in blossom (again?)") See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Hawkweeds (hieracium)

A pasture thistle with many fresh flowers and bees on it. See  September 4, 1859 ("Three kinds of thistles are commonly out now, — the pasture, lanceolate, and swamp, — and on them all you are pretty sure to see one or two humblebees. They become more prominent and interesting in the scarcity of purple flowers");     October 5, 1856 ("I am surprised, amid these perfectly withered and bleached thistles, to see one just freshly in flower."); See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Thistle and Thistle-down

October 11. See A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau,  October 11

Indian summer,

a thick haze forming wreaths in  

the near horizon.

In the woods I hear

a metallic clanging sound –

the note of the jay.

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Indian summer continues.

 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 ©  2009-2026

https://tinyurl.com/hdt-561011

***

October 11, 2014

Posting the east line this year in the dark we again lose the connection somewhere between Kendall pond and Clifford Corner but without the emotion. this was two years ago:

 We separate and i go to the saddle trail, again losing the connection.  Jane goes to clifford corner then west to the Moose trail. The dogs roam back and forth between us. Evening comes and i have Loki, and jane has Buda. I get to the view just after sunset. The pond is reflecting saffron light brighter than the sky. I sit with the view and sky for perhaps half an hour until Jane comes with her extra headlamp for me. 20141011

Just after sunset

the pond reflects saffron light

brighter than the sky.

~ zphx