A Book of the Seasons: July 23 (moving clouds, changing light, changing moods and reflections, young birds, late roses, the western sky )

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

 July 23

Late rose now in prime–

the memory of roses

along the river.

July 23, 1860

July 23. 2015 8:25 PM 

Now is the haying season. July 23, 1852

The influences which make for one walk more than another, and one day more than another, are much more ethereal than terrestrial. July 23, 1851

A little brook crossing the road (the Corner road), a few inches’depth of transparent water rippling over yellow sand and pebbles, the pure blood of nature. July 23, 1851

See a thunder-cloud coming up in northwest, but as I walk and wind in the woods, lose the points of compass and cannot tell whether it is travelling this way or not. At length the sun is obscured by its advance guard, but, as so often, the rain comes, leaving thunder and lightning behind. July 23, 1854

There is a peculiar light reflected from the shorn fields, as later in the fall, when rain and coolness have cleared the air. July 23, 1854

One of the most noticeable phenomena of this green-leaf season is the conspicuous reflection of light in clear breezy days from the silvery undersides of some leaves. July 23, 1860

Hazel leaves in dry places have begun to turn yellow and brown. July 23, 1854 

For some weeks past the roadsides and the dry and trivial fields have been covered with the field trefoil (Trifolium arvense), now in bloom. July 23, 1851

In a maple swamp every maple-top stands now distinguished from the birches in their midst. Before they were confounded, but a wind comes and lifts their leaves, showing their lighter undersides, and suddenly, as by magic, the maple stands out from the birch. July 23, 1860

The button-bush in blossom. July 23, 1851

The tobacco-pipe in damp woods. July 23, 1851

The rhexia is seen afar on the islets, — its brilliant red like a rose. July 23, 1855.

Rhexia in bloom, how long? July 23, 1859

The white orchis at same place, four or five days at least; spike one and three quarters by three inches. July 23, 1854

The dwarf choke-cherry is ripe now, long before the rum cherry. Also the Pyrus arbutifolia. July 23, 1852

Low blackberries have begun. July 23, 1859

Blue vervain out some days. July 23, 1853

Cnicus pumilus, pasture thistle. July 23, 1852 

Pasture thistle, not long. July 23, 1856.  

The late rose is now in prime along the river, a pale rose-color but very delicate, keeping up the memory of roses. July 23, 1860

I see broods of partridges later than the others, now the size of the smallest chickens. July 23, 1854. 

Small flocks of song sparrows rustle along the walls and fences. July 23, 1854. 

See apparently young goldfinches about, very freshly bright golden and black. July 23, 1856. 

Bathing in Walden, I find the water considerably colder at the bottom while I stand up to my chin, but the sandy bottom much warmer to my feet than the water. July 23, 1856 

But this habit of close observation, — in Humboldt, Darwin, and others. Is it to be kept up long, this science? July 23, 1851

Do not tread on the heels of your experience. Be impressed without making a minute of it. Poetry puts an interval between the impression and the expression, — waits till the seed germinates naturally. July 23, 1851

The mind is subject to moods, as the shadows of clouds pass over the earth. July 23, 1851. 

By the mood of my mind, I suddenly felt dissuaded from continuing my walk, but I observed at the same instant that the shadow of a cloud was passing over.  July 23, 1851

I kept on, and in a moment the sun shone on my walk within and without. July 23, 1851

And I am reminded that we should especially improve the summer to live out-of-doors. July 23, 1851

Twenty minutes after seven, I sit at my window to observe the sun set. July 23, 1852

About three quarters of an hour after sunset the evening red is deepest. . . close to the west horizon. July 23, 1852

The moon, now in her first quarter, now begins to preside, — her light to prevail, — though for the most part eclipsed by clouds. July 23, 1852

As the light in the west fades, the sky there, seen between the clouds, has a singular clarity and serenity. July 23, 1852. 

July 23, 2015 

As the light in the west fades, the sky there,

 seen between the clouds, has a singular clarity and serenity. 

*****

See Do not tread on the heels of your experience.

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau,  the Blue Vervain

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The White Fringed Orchis

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau: the Hazel

 A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Thistles

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Partridge

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Song Sparrow (Fringilla melodia)

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Goldfinch

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Blackberries

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Haymaking

  A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Luxury of Bathing

 A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau Moods and Seasons of the Mind.

See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Western Sky 

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Reminiscence and Prompting

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, July Moods

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, 

July Moonlight

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Wild Rose

July 23, 2017

June 5, 1854 ("I have come to this hill to see the sun go down, to recover sanity and put myself again in relation with Nature.")

June 11, 1860 (“I now first begin to notice the silvery under sides of the red maple and swamp white oak leaves, turned up by the wind”)

July 10, 1852 ("I make quite an excursion up and down the river in the water, a fluvial, a water walk. . . Walking up and down a river in torrid weather with only a hat to shade the head.”)

July 17, 1852 ("Again methinks I hear the goldfinch.")

July 17, 1860 ("The soft sand on the bottom of Walden, as deep as I can wade, feels very warm to my feet, while the water feels cold.")
July 18, 1852 ("The petals of the rhexia have a beautiful clear purple with a violet tinge.")
July 18, 1853 ("The late, or river, rose spots the copses over the water, — a great ornament to the river's brink now.”)

July 20, 1852 ("And now the evening redness deepens till all the west or northwest horizon is red; as if the sky were rubbed there with some rich Indian pigment, a permanent dye; as if the Artist of the world had mixed his red paints on the edge of the inverted saucer of the sky. An exhilarating, cheering redness, most wholesome.")

July 21, 1851 ("That was probably the Verbena hastata, or common blue vervain, which I found the other day by Walden Pond.")

July 21, 1852 ("Do we perceive such a deep Indian red after the first starlight at any other season as now in July?")

July 21, 1856 ("Verbena hastata, apparently several days ")

July 21, 1856 ("Low blackberries thick enough to pick in some places, three or four days.”)

July 22, 1851 ("I bathe, and in a few hours I bathe again, not remembering that I was wetted before. When I come to the river, I take off my clothes and carry them over, then bathe and wash off the mud and continue my walk. I would fain take rivers in my walks endwise.”)

July 22, 1853 (“There are so many men in the fields haying now.”)

These clear breezy days

light reflects from silvery

undersides of leaves.

July 23, 1860

July 24, 1852 ("I heard this afternoon the cool water twitter of the goldfinch. and saw the bird. They come with the springing aftermath.")

July 24, 1859 ("The white orchis will hardly open for a week”)
July 24, 1860 ("Many a field where the grass has been cut shows now a fresh and very lit-up light green as you look toward the sun.")

July 26, 1852 ("The grandest picture in the world is the sunset sky")

July 26, 1854("low blackberries of two or more varieties.")

July 31, 1855 ("Have observed the twittering over of goldfinches for a week.")

July 31, 1859 ("The goldfinch's note, the cool watery twitter, is more prominent now.")

August 1, 1856 ("They make a splendid show, these brilliant rose-colored patches . . . Yet few ever see them in this perfection, unless the haymaker who levels them, or the birds that fly over the meadow. Far in the broad wet meadows, on the hummocks and ridges, these bright beds of rhexia turn their faces to the heavens, seen only by the bitterns and other meadow birds that fly over. We, dwelling and walking on the dry upland, do not suspect their existence..")
August 5, 1854 ("We are now in the midst of the meadow-haying season.")

August 5, 1858 ("I cannot sufficiently admire the rhexia, one of the highest-colored purple flowers, but difficult to bring home in its perfection, with its fugacious petals.")

August 6, 1852 ("I find a bumblebee asleep in a thistle blossom (a pasture thistle)")

August 6, 1852 ("Blue vervain is now very attractive to me, and then there is that interesting progressive history in its rising ring of blossoms. It has a story. ")

August 12, 1858 ("I am also interested in the rich-looking glossy black choke-berries which nobody eats, but which bend down the bushes on every side,—sweetish berries with a dry, and so choking, taste.")

August 14, 1854 ("I have come forth to this hill at sunset to see the forms of the mountains in the horizon, — to behold and commune with something grander than man.”)

September 13, 1859 ("You must be outdoors long, early and late, and travel far and earnestly, in order to perceive the phenomena of the day.")
November 13, 1857 ("See the sun rise or set if possible each day.")

December 25, 1851 (“I go forth to see the sun set. Who knows how it will set, even half an hour beforehand ?”)
December 29, 1856 (“We must go out and re-ally ourselves to Nature every day.”)

January 17, 1852 ("As the skies appear to a man, so is his mind.")  
January 26, 1852 ("Would you see your mind, look at the sky. Would you know your own moods, be weather-wise.")

February 18, 1860 ("Sometimes, when I go forth at 2 P. M., there is scarcely a cloud in the sky, but soon one will appear in the west and steadily advance and expand itself, and so change the whole character of the afternoon and of my thoughts.")

July 23, 2021  8:20 PM

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.

  April 7, 1853 

July 22  < <<<<< July 23 >>>>>   July 24

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau July 23

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 ©  2009-2023

https://tinyurl.com/HDT23JULY