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
Before the first star
I turn round – there shines the moon
silvering small clouds.
A devil's-needle
keeps its place on my paddle
against a strong wind.
Peetweet and turtle
both eyeing me anxiously
not minding each other.
far over the lake
in the middle of the night
the voice of the loon
(The Maine Woods)
Clear sunny water
reveals fishes and minnows
all sizes and colors.
July 27, 2014
June and July perhaps only are the months of drought. The drought ceases with the dog-days. July 27, 1853
Rains, still quite soakingly. July 27, 1853
It has been a clear, cool, breezy day for the season. July 27, 1852
It is pleasing to behold at this season contrasted shade and sunshine on the side of neighboring hills. Each must enhance the other. July 27, 1852
On Fair Haven Hill. The slight distraction of picking berries is favorable to a mild, abstracted, poetic mood, to sequestered or transcendental thinking. I return ever more fresh to my mood from such slight interruptions. July 27, 1852
The water has begun to be clear and sunny, revealing the fishes and countless minnows of all sizes and colors, this year's brood. July 27, 1860.
The water has begun to be clear and sunny, revealing the fishes and countless minnows of all sizes and colors, this year's brood. July 27, 1860.
That the luxury of walking in the river may be perfect it must be very warm, such as are few days even in July . . . Both water and air must be unusually warm; otherwise we shall feel no impulse to cast ourselves into and remain in the stream. July 27, 1852
The autumnal dandelion now appears more abundantly within a week. July 27, 1853
Solidago lanceolata also, a few days probably, though only partially open. July 27, 1853
Zizania scarce out some days at least. July 27, 1856
As I paddle by Dodge's Brook, a great devil's-needle alights on my paddle, between my hands. It is about three inches long and three and a half in spread of wings, without spots, black and yellow, with green eyes (?). It keeps its place within a few inches of my eyes, while I was paddle some twenty-five rods against a strong wind, clinging closely. July 27, 1856
I see, on a rock in midstream, a peetweet within a foot of a turtle, both eying me anxiously within two rods, but not minding each other. July 27, 1856
Woodcocks have been common by the streams and springs in woods for some weeks. July 27, 1852
There is only one white bar of cloud in the north. July 27, 1852
I see, on a rock in midstream, a peetweet within a foot of a turtle, both eying me anxiously within two rods, but not minding each other. July 27, 1856
Woodcocks have been common by the streams and springs in woods for some weeks. July 27, 1852
There is only one white bar of cloud in the north. July 27, 1852
The river is silvery, as it were plated and polished smooth, with the slightest possible tinge of gold, tonight. How beautiful the meanders of a river, thus revealed! July 27, 1852
How beautiful hills and vales, the whole surface of the earth a succession of these great cups, falling away from dry or rocky edges to gelid green meadows and water in the midst, where night already is setting in! July 27, 1852
All glow on the clouds is gone, except from one higher, small, rosy pink or flesh-colored isle. The sun is now probably set. July 27, 1852
How cool and assuaging the thrush's note after the fever of the day! July 27, 1852
Have I heard the veery lately? July 27, 1852
The huckleberry-bird as usual, and the nighthawk squeaks and booms, and the bullfrog trumps, just before the earliest star. July 27, 1852
The evening red is much more remarkable than the morning red. July 27, 1852
The solemnity of the evening sky! July 27, 1852
I turn round, and there shines the moon, silvering the small clouds which have gathered; she makes nothing red. July 27, 1852
In the middle of the night . . . we heard the voice of the loon, loud and distinct, from far over the lake. It is a very wild sound, quite in keeping with the place and the circumstances of the traveler, and very unlike the voice of a bird. I could lie awake for hours listening to it, it is so thrilling. The Maine Woods. July 27, 1857
June 3, 1850 ("The landscape is a vast amphitheatre rising to its rim in the horizon.")
June 25, 1852 ("The earth appears like a vast saucer sloping upward to its sharp mountain rim.")
July 17, 1853 ("I see two great devil’s-needles, three inches long, with red abdomens and bodies as big as hummingbirds, sailing round this pond.")In the middle of the night . . . we heard the voice of the loon, loud and distinct, from far over the lake. It is a very wild sound, quite in keeping with the place and the circumstances of the traveler, and very unlike the voice of a bird. I could lie awake for hours listening to it, it is so thrilling. The Maine Woods. July 27, 1857
*****
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau:
*****
June 3, 1850 ("The landscape is a vast amphitheatre rising to its rim in the horizon.")
June 25, 1852 ("The earth appears like a vast saucer sloping upward to its sharp mountain rim.")
July 17, 1854 ("I am surprised to see crossing my course in middle of Fair Haven Pond great yellowish devil's-needles, flying from shore to shore.").
July 18, 1854 ("Methinks the asters and goldenrods begin, like the early ripening leaves, with midsummer heats.")
July 19, 1854 ("A wood thrush to-night.")
July 20, 1852 (" It is starlight. You see the first star in the southwest, and know not how much earlier you might have seen it had you looked. Now the first whip-poor- will sings hollowly in the dark pitch pine wood on Bear Garden Hill. And now, when we had thought the day birds gone to roost, the wood thrush takes up the strain.")
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, 1852 ("I see the earliest star fifteen or twenty minutes before the red is deepest in the horizon ")
July 23, 1852 ("About three quarters of an hour after sunset the evening red is deepest.")
July 23, 1852 ("About three quarters of an hour after sunset the evening red is deepest.")
July 23, 1852 ("The moon, now in her first quarter, now begins to preside,. . .. As the light in the west fades, the sky there, seen between the clouds, has a singular clarity and serenity.")
July 24, 1853 ("The zizania, some days.")
July 24, 1853 ("The nighthawk squeaks, and the chewink jingles his strain, and the wood thrush")
July 24, 1853 (" I hear no veery.")
July 26, 1852 ("The grandest picture in the world is the sunset sky.")
July 26, 1853 ("I mark again, about this time when the first asters open . . . This the afternoon of the year.")
July 26, 1858 ("Saw bay-wings and huckleberry-birds.")
July 28, 1852 ("Goldenrod and asters have fairly begun; there are several kinds of each out.")
July 28, 1859 ("The season has now arrived when I begin to see further into the water ")
July 30, 1856 ("The wonderful clearness of the water, enabling you to explore the river bottom and many of its secrets now.”)
July 30, 1852 ("How long since I heard a veery? Do they go, or become silent, when the goldfinches herald the autumn?")
July 30, 1856 ("The water is suddenly clear.”)
July 31, 1855 ("Our dog-days seem to be turned to a rainy season")
August 4. 1854 ("The autumnal dandelion is now more common.")
August 5, 1851 ("As the twilight deepens and the moonlight is more and more bright, I begin to distinguish myself, who I am and where . . . sensible of my own existence, as when a lamp is brought into a dark apartment and I see who the company are.")
October 3, 1852 ("A wild sound, heard far and suited to the wildest lake.")
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau , July 27A 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 © 2009-2022
https://tinyurl.com/HDT27JULY
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