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
Thoughts of autumn and
the memory of past years
occupy my mind.
July 31, 2015
Returning home last evening, I heard that exceedingly fine z-ing or creaking of crickets (?), low in the grass in the meadows. July 31, 1859
Went through Potter's Aster Radula swamp this dog-day afternoon. As I make my way amid rank weeds still wet with the dew, the air filled with a decaying musty scent and the z-ing of small locusts. July 31, 1856
Went through Potter's Aster Radula swamp this dog-day afternoon. As I make my way amid rank weeds still wet with the dew, the air filled with a decaying musty scent and the z-ing of small locusts. July 31, 1856
Our dog-days seem to be turned to a rainy season. July 31, 1855
It is emphatically one of the dog-days. A dense fog, not clearing off till we are far on our way. July 31, 1859
The grass is thickly strewn with white cobwebs, tents of the night, which promise a fair day . . . They are revealed by the dew, and perchance it is the dew and fog which they reveal which are the sign of fair weather. July 31, 1859
We drove him several miles, while we were looking for a good place to camp, for we expected to be overtaken by a shower, — and still we could distinguish him by his white tail, sailing away from time to time from some tree by the shore still farther down the stream
See a blue heron several times to-day and yesterday. They must therefore breed not far off. July 31, 1859
May 29, 1856 ("Where you find a rare flower, expect to find more rare ones.")
July 30, 1854 ("I have seen a few new fungi within a week. The tobacco-pipes are still pushing up white amid the dry leaves,")
July 30, 1853 ("The wood thrush still sings and the peawai")
The river has risen a foot or so since its lowest early in the month. July 31, 1852
The water is quite cool. Methinks it cannot be so warm again this year. July 31, 1852
The water is quite cool. Methinks it cannot be so warm again this year. July 31, 1852
There is more shadow under the edges of woods and copses now. Perhaps it is this that makes it cooler, especially morning and evening, though it may be as warm as ever at noon. July 31, 1852
At mid-afternoon I am caught in another deluging rain as I stand under a maple by the shore. Looking on a water surface, you can see as well as hear when it rains very hard. . . . there were a myriad white globules dancing or rebounding an inch or two from the surface, where the big drops fell, and I heard a sound as if it rained pebbles or shot. July 31, 1860
I have smelled fungi in the thick woods for a week, though they are not very common. I see tobacco-pipes now in the path. July 31, 1858
For a morning or two I have noticed dense crowds of little tender whitish parasol toadstools, one inch or more in diameter, and two inches high or more, with simple plaited wheels, about the pump platform; first fruit of this dog-day weather. July 31, 1856
Have observed the twittering over of goldfinches for a week. July 31, 1855
The goldfinch's note, the cool watery twitter, is more prominent now. July 31, 1859.
You are liable to be overtaken by a thunder-shower these afternoons. July 31, 1858
At mid-afternoon I am caught in another deluging rain as I stand under a maple by the shore. Looking on a water surface, you can see as well as hear when it rains very hard. . . . there were a myriad white globules dancing or rebounding an inch or two from the surface, where the big drops fell, and I heard a sound as if it rained pebbles or shot. July 31, 1860
The absence of flowers, the shadows, the wind, the green cranberries, etc., are autumnal. July 31, 1852
I calculate that less than forty species of flowers known to me remain to blossom this year. July 31, 1853
I hear the distant sound of a flail, and thoughts of autumn occupy my mind, and the memory of past years. July 31, 1856
The high blueberry has a singularly cool flavor. The alder locust again reminds me of autumn. July 31, 1852
How thick the berries — low blackberries, Vaccinium vacillans, and huckleberries — on the side of Fair Haven Hill ! The berries are large, for no drought has shrunk them. They are very abundant this year to compensate for the want of them the last. July 31, 1856.
Mountain cranberries apparently full grown, many at least. July 31, 1856
The green cranberries are half formed. July 31, 1852
Mountain cranberries apparently full grown, many at least. July 31, 1856
The green cranberries are half formed. July 31, 1852
So surely as we stepped out of the canoe and stretched our legs we found ourselves in a blueberry and raspberry garden, each side of our rocky trail around the falls being lined with one or both. July 31, 1857. ( The Maine Woods)
On this East Branch we saw many of the small purple fringed orchis (Platanthera psycodes), but no large ones (P. fimbriata), which alone were noticed on the West Branch and Umbazookskus. July 31, 1857
Soon afterward a
white-headed eagle sailed down
the stream before us.
July 31, 1857
We drove him several miles, while we were looking for a good place to camp, for we expected to be overtaken by a shower, — and still we could distinguish him by his white tail, sailing away from time to time from some tree by the shore still farther down the stream
July 31, 1857 The Maine Woods
Near Well Meadow, hear the distant scream of a hawk, apparently anxious about her young, and soon a large apparent hen—hawk (?) comes and alights on the very top of the highest pine there, within gunshot, and utters its angry scream. This a sound of the season when they probably are taking their first (?) flights. July 31, 1856
Near Well Meadow, hear the distant scream of a hawk, apparently anxious about her young, and soon a large apparent hen—hawk (?) comes and alights on the very top of the highest pine there, within gunshot, and utters its angry scream. This a sound of the season when they probably are taking their first (?) flights. July 31, 1856
Where there are rare, wild, rank plants, there too some wild bird will be found. The marsh wrens and the small green bitterns are especially numerous there. Doubtless many rails here. They lurk amid these reeds. July 31, 1859
See a blue heron several times to-day and yesterday. They must therefore breed not far off. July 31, 1859
July 31, 2017
*****
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau :
July 30, 1852 ("Do not all flowers that blossom after mid-July remind us of the fall?")
July 30, 1852 ("Caught in a thunder-shower, when south of Flint's Pond. It is a grand sound, that of the rain on the leaves of the forest a quarter of a mile distant, approaching.")\July 30, 1852 ("How long since I heard a veery? Do they go, or become silent, when the goldfinches herald the autumn? After midsummer we have a belated feeling and are forward to see in each sight and hear in each sound some presage of the fall, just as in middle age man anticipates the end of life")
July 30, 1853 ("A small purple orchis (Platanthera psycodes), quite small")July 30, 1853 ("The wood thrush still sings and the peawai")
At mid-afternoon
caught in a deluging rain
under a maple . . .
a myriad white
globules dance and rebound
where the big drops fall.
August 1, 1852 ("The pewee sings yet.")
August 1, 1852 ("Found a long, dense spike of the Orchis psycodes. Much later this than the great orchis. The same, only smaller and denser, not high-colored enough.")
August 1, 1858 ("So the green bitterns are leaving the nest now.")
August 2, 1859 ("That fine z-ing of locusts in the grass which I have heard for three or four days is an August sound.")
August 3, 1857 ("This was the midst of the raspberry season. We found them abundant on every carry on the East Branch and below . . . It is so much the more desirable at this season to breathe the raspberry air of Maine.")
August 1, 1852 ("Found a long, dense spike of the Orchis psycodes. Much later this than the great orchis. The same, only smaller and denser, not high-colored enough.")
August 1, 1858 ("So the green bitterns are leaving the nest now.")
August 2, 1859 ("That fine z-ing of locusts in the grass which I have heard for three or four days is an August sound.")
August 3, 1857 ("This was the midst of the raspberry season. We found them abundant on every carry on the East Branch and below . . . It is so much the more desirable at this season to breathe the raspberry air of Maine.")
August 4, 1852 ("I hear the singular watery twitter of the goldfinch, ter tweeter e et or e ee, as it ricochets over, he and his russet ( ?) female.")
August 4, 1852 (" Most huckleberries and blueberries and low blackberries are in their prime now")
August 7, 1854 ("I am not so much reminded of former years, as of existence prior to years.”)
August 12, 1853 ("See the blue herons opposite Fair Haven Hill, as if they had bred here.")
August 4, 1852 (" Most huckleberries and blueberries and low blackberries are in their prime now")
August 7, 1854 ("I am not so much reminded of former years, as of existence prior to years.”)
August 12, 1853 ("See the blue herons opposite Fair Haven Hill, as if they had bred here.")
July 31, 2021
July 31, 2022
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.
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau July 31A 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/HDT31JULY
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