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
This sense of lateness –
now is the season of fruits
but where is our fruit?
A sound reminds me.
Past autumns, lapse of time – so
little brought to pass.
August 18, 2016
There is indeed something royal about the month of August. Though hot it is not so suffocating a blaze, and the evenings generally are cooler. August 18, 1852
The locust is heard. Fruits are ripening. Ripe apples here and there scent the air. August 18, 1852
It plainly makes men sad to think. Hence pensiveness is akin to sadness. August 18, 1851
What means this sense of lateness that so comes over one now, — as if the rest of the year were down-hill, and if we had not performed anything before, we should not now? . . . The year is full of warnings of its shortness, as is life. The sound of so many insects and the sight of so many flowers affect us so. August 18, 1853
The alder cricket, clear, loud, and autumnal, a season sound. Hear it, but see it not. It reminds me of past autumns and the lapse of time, suggests a pleasing, thoughtful melancholy, like the sound of the flail. Such preparation, such an outfit has our life, and so little brought to pass! August 18, 1856
The season of flowers or of promise may be said to be over, and now is the season of fruits; but where is our fruit? August 18, 1853
The note of the wood pewee sounds prominent of late. August 18, 1860
Hear two wood pewees singing close by. . . .One appeared to answer the other, and sometimes they both sung together, — even as if the old were teaching her young. It was not the usual spring note of this bird, but a simple, clear pe-e-eet, rising steadily with one impulse to the end. August 18, 1858
In the meanwhile, as it was perched on the twig, it was incessantly turning its head about, looking for insects, and suddenly would dart aside or downward a rod or two, and I could hear its bill snap as it caught one. Then it returned to the same or another perch. August 18, 1858
See large flocks of blackbirds, blackish birds with chattering notes. It is a fine sight when you can look down on them just as they are settling on the ground with outspread wings, — a hovering flock.
August 18, 1858
The bobolinks alight on the wool-grass. August 18, 1854
Almost every bush along this brook is now alive with these birds.
August 18, 1858
Miss Caroline Pratt saw the white bobolink yesterday where Channng saw it the day before, in the midst of a large flock. I go by the place this afternoon and see very large flocks of them, certainly several hundreds in all, and one has a little white on his back, but I do not see the white one. August 18, 1858
Saw yesterday and some days before a monster aphis some five eighths of an inch long on a huckleberry leaf. August 18, 1856
The zizania on the north side of the river near the Holt, or meadow watering-place, is very conspicuous and abundant. August 18, 1854
The season of flowers or of promise may be said to be over, and now is the season of fruits; but where is our fruit? August 18, 1853
The note of the wood pewee sounds prominent of late. August 18, 1860
Hear two wood pewees singing close by. . . .One appeared to answer the other, and sometimes they both sung together, — even as if the old were teaching her young. It was not the usual spring note of this bird, but a simple, clear pe-e-eet, rising steadily with one impulse to the end. August 18, 1858
In the meanwhile, as it was perched on the twig, it was incessantly turning its head about, looking for insects, and suddenly would dart aside or downward a rod or two, and I could hear its bill snap as it caught one. Then it returned to the same or another perch. August 18, 1858
See large flocks of blackbirds, blackish birds with chattering notes. It is a fine sight when you can look down on them just as they are settling on the ground with outspread wings, — a hovering flock.
August 18, 1858
The bobolinks alight on the wool-grass. August 18, 1854
Almost every bush along this brook is now alive with these birds.
August 18, 1858
Miss Caroline Pratt saw the white bobolink yesterday where Channng saw it the day before, in the midst of a large flock. I go by the place this afternoon and see very large flocks of them, certainly several hundreds in all, and one has a little white on his back, but I do not see the white one. August 18, 1858
Saw yesterday and some days before a monster aphis some five eighths of an inch long on a huckleberry leaf. August 18, 1856
The zizania on the north side of the river near the Holt, or meadow watering-place, is very conspicuous and abundant. August 18, 1854
The solidago nemoralis is now abundantly out on the Great Fields. August 18, 1854
Rudbeckia laciniata, sunflower-like tall cone-flower, behind Joe Clark's. August 18, 1852
Rudbeckia laciniata, sunflower-like tall cone-flower, behind Joe Clark's. August 18, 1852
Yellow Bethlehem-star yet, and indigo. August 18, 1856
Many leaves of the cultivated cherry are turned yellow, and a very few leaves of the elm have fallen. August 18, 1853
Half the leaves of some cherries in dry places are quite orange now and ready to fall. August 18, 1859
There are fifteen or twenty haymakers here yet, but almost done. They and their loads loom at a distance. Men in their white shirts look taller and larger than near at hand. August 18, 1854
I go along the hillsides in sprout-lands, amid the Solidago stricta,
looking for the blackberries left after the rain, the sun warm as ever, but the air cool nevertheless. August 18, 1856
No mountains can be seen. August 18. 1852
The night of the year is approaching. August 18, 1853
Walden, "Spring" ("The day is an epitome of the year. The night is the winter, the morning and evening are the spring and fall, and the noon is the summer.")
March 18, 1853 ("This the foreglow of the year, when the walker goes home at eve to dream of summer”)
July 15, 1854 ("We seem to be passing a dividing line between spring and autumn, and begin to descend the long slope toward winter")
July 19, 1851 ("I hear a cricket, too, under the blackberry vines, singing as in the fall. Yesterday it was spring, and to-morrow it will be autumn. Where is the summer then?")
July 26, 1853 ("How apt we are to be reminded of lateness, even before the year is half spent! This the afternoon of the year")
July 27, 1853 ("This the afternoon of the year. How apt we are to be reminded of lateness, even before the year is half spent!")
July 28, 1854 (“After the first intense heats, we postponed the fulfillment of many of our hopes for this year, and, having as it were attained the ridge of the summer, commenced to descend the long slope toward winter, the afternoon and down-hill of the year.")
July 28, 1854 ("Last evening it was much cooler, and I heard a decided fall sound of crickets.")July 28, 1854 (“After the first intense heats, we postponed the fulfillment of many of our hopes for this year, and, having as it were attained the ridge of the summer, commenced to descend the long slope toward winter, the afternoon and down-hill of the year.")
July 28, 1859 ("The sweet and plaintive note of the pewee is now prominent, since most other birds are more hushed. I hear young families of them answering each other from a considerable distance, especially about the river.")
August 21, 1853 ("Methinks I have not heard a robin sing morning or evening of late, but the peawai still.")
August 22, 1858 ("Now that the mikania begins to prevail the button-bush has done.")
July 30 1852 (After midsummer we have a belated feeling as if we had all been idlers, and are forward to see in each sight and hear in each sound some presage of the fall,")
July 30, 1856 (“Rudbeckia laciniata, perhaps a week.”)
July 30, 1856 (“Rudbeckia laciniata, perhaps a week.”)
July 31, 1856 ("I hear the distant sound of a flail, and thoughts of autumn occupy my mind, and the memory of past years.")
August 2, 1860 ("Mikania begun, and now, perhaps, the river's brink is at its height. ");
August 2, 1860 ("We hear from time to time the loud snap of a wood pewee's bill overhead.")
August 4, 1851 ("I hear the note of a cricket, and am penetrated with the sense of autumn.")
August 4, 1856 ( "Have heard the alder cricket some days. The turning-point is reached.");
August 4, 1851("It is now the royal month of August")
August 5, 1854 ("It is one long acclivity from winter to midsummer and another long declivity from midsummer to winter.")
August 2, 1860 ("We hear from time to time the loud snap of a wood pewee's bill overhead.")
August 4, 1851 ("I hear the note of a cricket, and am penetrated with the sense of autumn.")
August 4, 1856 ( "Have heard the alder cricket some days. The turning-point is reached.");
August 4, 1851("It is now the royal month of August")
August 5, 1854 ("It is one long acclivity from winter to midsummer and another long declivity from midsummer to winter.")
August 6, 1852 ("Has not the year grown old ? . . . It is the signs of the fall that affect us most. It is hard to live in the summer content with it.")
August 6, 1854 (“This anticipation of the fall, — coolness and cloud, and the crickets steadily chirping in mid-afternoon.”)
August 6, 1854 (“This anticipation of the fall, — coolness and cloud, and the crickets steadily chirping in mid-afternoon.”)
August 6, 1855 ("Hear the autumnal crickets.")
August 6, 1858 (“The note of the wood pewee is now more prominent, while birds generally are silent.”)
August 6, 1858 (“The note of the wood pewee is now more prominent, while birds generally are silent.”)
August 9, 1851 ("Now the earliest apples begin to be ripe, but none are so good to eat as some to smell.”)
August 9, 1856 ("The notes of the wood pewee and warbling vireo are more prominent of late, and of the goldfinch twittering over.”)
August 10, 1853 ("August, royal and rich")
August 10, 1854 ("The woods are comparatively still at this season")
August 11, 1852 ("The autumnal ring of the alder locust.");
August 11, 1853 ("What shall we name this season? — this very late afternoon, or very early evening, this season of the day most favorable for reflection? . . . The serene hour, the season of reflection! The pensive season . . .Each sound has a broad and deep relief of silence. It is not more dusky and obscure, but clearer than before. The poet arouses himself and collects his thoughts.")
August 9, 1856 ("The notes of the wood pewee and warbling vireo are more prominent of late, and of the goldfinch twittering over.”)
August 10, 1853 ("August, royal and rich")
August 10, 1854 ("The woods are comparatively still at this season")
August 11, 1852 ("The autumnal ring of the alder locust.");
August 11, 1853 ("What shall we name this season? — this very late afternoon, or very early evening, this season of the day most favorable for reflection? . . . The serene hour, the season of reflection! The pensive season . . .Each sound has a broad and deep relief of silence. It is not more dusky and obscure, but clearer than before. The poet arouses himself and collects his thoughts.")
August 11, 1858 ("It reminds me of the lateness of the season.")
August 12, 1854 ("It is the 3 o'clock p. m. of the year . . . when the earth has absorbed most heat, when melons ripen and early apples and peaches. It is already the yellowing year.")
August 12, 1858 ("The note of the wood pewee is a prominent and common one now. You see old and young together.")
August 12, 1851("I hear a wood thrush even now, long before sunrise, as in the heat of the day.");
August 12, 1854 ("Have not heard a wood thrush since last week of July.")
August 13, 1860 ("Hear the steady shrill of the alder locust.");
August 14, 1853 (" I hear no wood thrushes for a week")
August 12, 1858 ("The note of the wood pewee is a prominent and common one now. You see old and young together.")
August 12, 1851("I hear a wood thrush even now, long before sunrise, as in the heat of the day.");
August 12, 1854 ("Have not heard a wood thrush since last week of July.")
August 13, 1860 ("Hear the steady shrill of the alder locust.");
August 14, 1853 (" I hear no wood thrushes for a week")
August 14, 1853 ("I perceive the scent of the earliest ripe apples in my walk. How it surpasses all their flavors!")
August 14, 1859 ("The zizania now makes quite a show along the river. ")
August 15, 1852 ("That clear ring like an alder locust (is it a cricket ?) for some time past is a sound which belongs to the season.")
August 15, 1852 ("That clear ring like an alder locust (is it a cricket ?) for some time past is a sound which belongs to the season.")
August 15, 1853 ("An inky darkness as of night under the edge of the woods, now at noonday heralding the evening of the year.”)
August 15, 1854("It is too late to see the river's brink in its perfection. It must be seen between the blooming of the mikania and the going out of bloom of the button bush, before you feel this sense of lateness in the year, before the meadows are shorn and the grass of hills and pastures is thus withered and russet.")
August 15, 1852 ("I see a dense, compact flock of bobolinks going off in the air over a field. They cover the rails and alders, and go rustling off with a brassy, tinkling note as I approach, revealing their yellow breasts and bellies. This is an autumnal sight, that small flock of grown birds in the afternoon sky.")
August 15, 1854 (" I see large flocks of bobolinks on the Union Turnpike").
August 16, 1852 ("I must look for the rudbeckia which Bradford says he found yesterday behind Joe Clark's")
August 16, 1858 ("I hear these birds on my way thither, between two and three o’clock:goldfinches twitter over; . . .the link of many bobolinks (and see large flocks on the fences and weeds; they are largish-looking birds with yellow throats) . . .Channing tells me that he saw a white bobolink in a large flock of them to-day.")
August 17, 1852 ("The woods are very still. I hear only a faint peep or twitter from one bird, then the never-failing wood thrush, it being about sunrise")
August 19, 1853 ("Flocks of bobolinks go tinkling along about the low willows, and swallows twitter, and a kingbird hovers almost stationary in the air, a foot above the water.")
August 19, 1853 ("In the fall, the evening of the year, the waters are smoothed more perfectly than at any other season. The day is an epitome of the year")
August 20, 1854 ("Saw a wood pewee which had darted after an insect over the water in this position in the air: It often utters a continuous pe-e-e.");August 21, 1853 ("Methinks I have not heard a robin sing morning or evening of late, but the peawai still.")
August 22, 1858 ("Now that the mikania begins to prevail the button-bush has done.")
August 23, 1853 ("I am again struck by the perfect correspondence of a day — say an August day — and the year. I think that a perfect parallel may be drawn between the seasons of the day and of the year.”)
August 24, 1858 ("I distinguish men busily haying in gangs of four or five, revealed by their white shirts, some two miles below, toward Carlisle Bridge, and others still, further up the stream. They are up to their shoulders in the grassy sea, almost lost in it. I can just discern a few white specks in the shiny grass, where the most distant are at work. ")
August 24, 1858 ("I distinguish men busily haying in gangs of four or five, revealed by their white shirts, some two miles below, toward Carlisle Bridge, and others still, further up the stream. They are up to their shoulders in the grassy sea, almost lost in it. I can just discern a few white specks in the shiny grass, where the most distant are at work. ")
August 25, 1852 ("I hear no birds sing these days, only . . . the mew of a catbird, the link link of a bobolink, or the twitter of a goldfinch, all faint and rare")
August 26, 1856 ("Another monster aphis on a huckleberry leaf.")
August 26, 1859 ("Bobolinks fly in flocks more and more.")
August 31, 1852 ("The evening of the year is colored like the sunset.")
August 28, 1858 ("The scarlet leaves of the cultivated cherry are seen to have fallen . . . reminding us of October and November.")
August 28, 1858 ("When. . . I see these bright leaves strewing the moist ground . . .I am reminded that I have crossed the summit ridge of the year and have begun to descend the other slope.")
August 26, 1859 ("Bobolinks fly in flocks more and more.")
August 31, 1852 ("The evening of the year is colored like the sunset.")
August 28, 1858 ("The scarlet leaves of the cultivated cherry are seen to have fallen . . . reminding us of October and November.")
August 28, 1858 ("When. . . I see these bright leaves strewing the moist ground . . .I am reminded that I have crossed the summit ridge of the year and have begun to descend the other slope.")
August 29, 1852 (The first leaves begin to fall; a few yellow ones lie in the road this morning, loosened by the rain and blown off by the wind.")
August 31, 1852 ("Morning is full of promise and vigor. Evening is pensive.")
September 4, 1857 ("Rudbeckia laciniata by Dodge's Brook")
August 18, 2016
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,August 18
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 © 2009-2022
https://tinyurl.com/HDT18August
Alone
with my soul —
solitude.
zphx 20220818
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