In my latter years, let me have some shad-bush thoughts.

October 13. 

P. M. — Up Assabet. 

Many of the small hypericums, mutilum and Canadense, have survived the frosts as yet, after all.

Hypericum mutilum, dwart St. John’s-wort,
August 2, 2019

The hemlock seed is now in the midst of its fall, some of it, with the leaves, floating on the river. The cones, being thus expanded, are more conspicuous on the trees. 

Many feverwort berries are fresh yet, though the leaves are quite withered. They are remarkable for their peculiar color. 

The thorn fruit on the hill is considerably past prime, though abundant and reddening the bushes still. 

The common alder up the Assabet is nerved like the hornbeam. 

I see no acorns on the trees. They appear to have all fallen before this. 

The swamp amelanchier is leafing again, as usual. What a pleasing phenomenon, perhaps an Indian- summer growth, an anticipation of the spring, like the notes of birds and frogs, etc., an evidence of warmth and genialness. Its buds are annually awakened by the October sun as if it were spring. The shad-bush is leafing again by the sunny swamp-side. It is like a youthful or poetic thought in old age. Several times I have been cheered by this sight when surveying in former years. The chickadee seems to lisp a sweeter note at the sight of it. I would not fear the winter more than the shad-bush which puts forth fresh and tender leaves on its approach. In the fall I will take this for my coat-of-arms. It seems to detain the sun that expands it. These twigs are so full of life that they can hardly contain themselves. They ignore winter. They anticipate spring. What faith! Away in some warm and sheltered recess in the swamp you find where these leaves have expanded. It is a foretaste of spring. In my latter years, let me have some shad-bush thoughts. 

I perceive the peculiar scent of the witch-hazel in bloom for several rods around, which at first I refer to the decaying leaves. 

I see where dodder was killed, with the button-bush, perhaps a week. 

British naturalists very generally apologize to the reader for having devoted their attention to natural history to the neglect of some important duty. 

Among plants which spring in cellars (vide September 22d) might be mentioned funguses. I remember seeing in an old work a plate of a fungus which grew in a wine-cellar and got its name from that circumstance. It is related in Chambers's Journal that Sir Joseph Banks, having caused a cask of wine to be placed in a cellar in order to improve it, "at the end of three years he directed his butler to ascertain the state of the wine, when, on attempting to open the cellar door, he could not affect it, in consequence of some powerful obstacle; the door was consequently cut down, when the cellar was found to be completely filled with a fungous production, so firm that it was necessary to use an axe for its removal. This appeared to have grown from, or to have been nourished by, the decomposing particles of the wine, the cask being empty, and carried up to the ceiling, where it was supported by the fungus." Perhaps it was well that the fungus instead of Sir Joseph Banks drank up the wine. The life of a wine-bibber is like that of a fungus.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, October 13, 1859

Many of the small hypericums, mutilum and Canadense, have survived the frosts as yet, after all. See July 15, 1856 ("Both small hypericums, Canadense and mutilum, apparently some days at least by Stow's ditch."); July 26, 1856 ("Arranged the hypericums in bottles this morning and watched their opening"); August 12, 1856 ("11 a. m. — To Hill. The Hypericum mutilum is well out at this hour."); August 15, 1859 ("Hypericum Canadense, Canadian St. John's-wort, distinguished by its red capsules."); August 17, 1856 ("Hypericum Canadense well out at 2 p. m.");  August 19, 1856 ("I see Hypericum Canadense and mutilum abundantly open at 3 p. m"); August 27, 1856 ("Hypericum Canadense and mutilum now pretty generally open at 4 P.M., thus late in the season"); September 15, 1856 ("The hypericums generally appear to be now about done. I see none."); October 2, 1856 ("Now and then I see a Hypericum Canadense flower still. The leaves, . . . turned crimson."); October 19, 1856 ("The hypericums — the whole plant — have now generally been killed by the frost")  See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, St. Johns-wort (Hypericum)

The hemlock seed is now in the midst of its fall, some of it, with the leaves, floating on the river. The cones, being thus expanded, are more conspicuous on the trees. Compare  October 28, 1858 (The hemlock is in the midst of its fall, and the leaves strew the ground like grain. They are inconspicuous on the tree.")/  See also  October 8, 1857 (“Hemlock leaves are copiously falling. They cover the hillside like some wild grain. ”); October 15, 1856 ("A great part of the hemlock seeds fallen."); October 16, 1857 (“Hemlock leaves are falling now faster than ever, and the trees are more parti-colored. The falling leaves look pale-yellow on the trees, but become reddish on the ground.”); October 31, 1853 ("The hemlock seeds are apparently ready to drop from their cones.”); November 1. 1853 ("As I paddle under the Leaning Hemlocks, the breeze rustles the boughs, and showers of their fresh winged seeds come wafted down to the water and are carried round and onward in the great eddy there.");   November 11, 1855 (“At the Hemlocks I see a narrow reddish line of hemlock leaves . .. mathematically level. This chronicles the hemlock fall, which I had not noticed, we have so few trees, and also the river’s rise”)

The swamp amelanchier is leafing again, as usual. See October 22, 1855 ("The swamp pyrus (Amelanchier) is leafing again. One opening leafet is an inch long, while the reddish yellow leaves still hold on at the end of the twig above. Its green swollen buds are generally conspicuous, curving round the stems. It is a new spring there. "); November 1, 1853 (I notice the shad-bush conspicuously leafing out. Those long, narrow, pointed buds, prepared for next spring, have anticipated their time. I noticed some thing similar when surveying the Hunt wood-lot last winter.); November 4, 1854 (“The shad-bush buds have expanded into small leaflets already.”).

Many feverwort berries are fresh yet, though the leaves are quite withered. They are remarkable for their peculiar color. See August 23, 1853 ("The feverwort berries are yellowing and yellowed."); Septmeber 6, 1859 ("The feverwort berries are apparently nearly in their prime, of a clear "corn yellow " and as large as a small cranberry, in whorls at the axils of the leaves of the half- prostrate plants.")

I perceive the peculiar scent of the witch-hazel in bloom for several rods around, which at first I refer to the decaying leaves. See October 9, 1851 (I"ts blossoms smell like the spring, like the willow catkins; by their color as well as fragrance they belong to the saffron dawn of the year. . . Its spray, so jointed and angular, is not to be mistaken for any other."); October 11, 1858 ("It is a cool seat under the witch-hazel in full bloom, which has lost its leaves! The leaves are greenish and brownish yellow")

October 13. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, October 13

In my latter years

let me have some shad-bush thoughts –

the shad-bush leafing!

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, In my latter years

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 © 2009-2024