P. M. — To Grackle Swamp. A very fine snow falling, just enough to whiten the bare spots a little.
November 15, 2023
I go to look for evergreen ferns before they are covered up. The end of last month and the first part of this is the time. I do not know that I find more than one kind now in that swamp, and of that the fertile fronds are mostly decayed. All lie flat, ready to be buried in snow.
Slight as the snow is, you are now reminded occasionally in your walks that you have contemporaries, and perchance predecessors. I see the track of a fox which was returning from his visit to a farmyard last night, and, in the wood-path, of a man and a dog. The dog must have been a large one. I see their shadows before me.
In another place, where the snow is so slight and lifted up on the withered grass that no track is left, I see by the cakes or balls of snow that have dropped from his shoes that a man has passed. This would be known for a man and a dog’s track in any part of the world.
Five toes in a bundle, somewhat diamond-shape, forming a sort of rosette, are the print of the dog, whether on the sands of Africa or the snow of New England. The track of his master is somewhat more variable, yet reducible within certain limits.
The Lycopodium dendroideum var. obscurum appears to be just in bloom in the swamp about the Hemlocks (the regular one (not variety) is apparently earlier), — later than the Lycopodium complanatum, which is done there.
Gossamer, methinks, belongs to the latter part of October and first part of November; also the frost-weed and evergreen ferns. Buds and twigs (like gossamer), and the mazes made by twigs, and the silvery light on this down and the silver-haired andropogon grass to the first half of November.
The water andromeda leaves have fallen, and the persistent turned that red brown; how long?
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, November 15, 1858
To Grackle Swamp. See March 19, 1858 ("Met Channing and walked on with him to what we will call Grackle Swamp")
I see the track of a fox which was returning from his visit to a farmyard last night, See December 14, 1855("Then I came upon a fox-track made last night, leading toward a farmhouse"); January 21, 1857 ("It is remarkable how many tracks of foxes you will see quite near the village, where they have been in the night, and yet a regular walker will not glimpse one oftener than once in eight or ten years.")
Slight as the snow is, you are now reminded occasionally in your walks that you have contemporaries, and perchance predecessors. I see the track of a fox which was returning from his visit to a farmyard last night, and, in the wood-path, of a man and a dog. The dog must have been a large one. I see their shadows before me.
In another place, where the snow is so slight and lifted up on the withered grass that no track is left, I see by the cakes or balls of snow that have dropped from his shoes that a man has passed. This would be known for a man and a dog’s track in any part of the world.
Five toes in a bundle, somewhat diamond-shape, forming a sort of rosette, are the print of the dog, whether on the sands of Africa or the snow of New England. The track of his master is somewhat more variable, yet reducible within certain limits.
The Lycopodium dendroideum var. obscurum appears to be just in bloom in the swamp about the Hemlocks (the regular one (not variety) is apparently earlier), — later than the Lycopodium complanatum, which is done there.
Gossamer, methinks, belongs to the latter part of October and first part of November; also the frost-weed and evergreen ferns. Buds and twigs (like gossamer), and the mazes made by twigs, and the silvery light on this down and the silver-haired andropogon grass to the first half of November.
The water andromeda leaves have fallen, and the persistent turned that red brown; how long?
H. D. Thoreau, Journal, November 15, 1858
A very fine snow falling, just enough to whiten the bare spots a little. See November 12, 1859 ("The first sprinkling of snow, which for a short time whitens the ground in spots.”); and note to November 15, 1854 ("The first snow, a mere sugaring which went off the next morning.")
I go to look for evergreen ferns before they are covered up. The end of last month and the first part of this is the time. See October 31, 1851 (" I see two kinds of ferns still green and much in fruit, apparently the Aspidium spinulosum (?) and cristatum (?).. . .They are quite fresh in those cold and wet places and almost flattened down now . . .Now they are conspicuous amid the withered leaves "); November 16, 1853 ("I now take notice of the green polypody on the rock and various other ferns, one the marginal (?) shield fern and one the terminal shield fern.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Evergreen Ferns, Part One: Maidenhair and Ebony Spleenwort; A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Evergreen Ferns, Part Two: Aspidium spinulosum & Aspidium cristatum; A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Evergreen Ferns, Part Three: Polypody, Marginal Shield Fern, Terminal Shield Fern
This would be known for a man and a dog’s track in any part of the world. See November 28, 1858 ("Here is the track of a sportsman and his dog in my secluded path, and probably he preceded me in the summer as well. Yet my hour is not his, and I may never meet him! ")
The Lycopodium denroideum var. obscurum appears to be just in bloom in the swamp about the Hemlocks (the regular one (not variety) is apparently earlier). See September 24, 1857 ("I find the Lycopodium dendroideum, not quite out, just northwest of this pine grove, in the grass. It is not the
variety obscurum, which grows at Trillium Wood, is more upright-branched and branches round."); Novemberr 7, 1858 ("I see Lycopodium dendroideum which has not yet shed pollen.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Lycopodiums
Gossamer, methinks, belongs to the latter part of October and first part of November. See November 15, 1859 (“A fine gossamer is streaming from every fence and tree and stubble, though a careless observer would not notice it.”); See also November 11, 1858 ("Gossamer reflecting the light is another November phenomenon (as well as October)."), note to November 3, 1857 ("It is a phenomenon peculiar to this season, when the twigs are bare and the air is clear.") and A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Gossamer Days
variety obscurum, which grows at Trillium Wood, is more upright-branched and branches round."); Novemberr 7, 1858 ("I see Lycopodium dendroideum which has not yet shed pollen.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Lycopodiums
Gossamer, methinks, belongs to the latter part of October and first part of November. See November 15, 1859 (“A fine gossamer is streaming from every fence and tree and stubble, though a careless observer would not notice it.”); See also November 11, 1858 ("Gossamer reflecting the light is another November phenomenon (as well as October)."), note to November 3, 1857 ("It is a phenomenon peculiar to this season, when the twigs are bare and the air is clear.") and A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Gossamer Days
Buds and twigs (like gossamer), and the mazes made by twigs, and the silvery light on this down. See November 28, 1856 ("The sunlight reflected from the many ascending twigs of bare young chestnuts and birches, very dense and ascendant with a marked parallelism, they remind me of the lines of gossamer at this season, being almost exactly similar to the eye. It is a true November phenomenon")
The water andromeda leaves have fallen, and the persistent turned that red brown. See November 14, 1858 ("The different colors of the water andromeda in different lights."); November 20, 1857 ("The water andromeda leaves are brown now, except where protected by trees."); November 23, 1857 ("The water andromeda [at Gowing's Swamp] makes a still more uniformly dense thicket, which. . .makes an impression of smoothness and denseness, – its rich brown, wholesome surface, even as grass or moss.")
November 15. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, November 15
I go to look for
the evergreen ferns before
they are covered up.
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 © 2009-2025
https://tinyurl.com/hdt-581115
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