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
I detect the hawk
by his shadow on the rock
and look to the sun
how he soars and sails
circling higher and wider--
how light he becomes
how beautiful does
he repose on the air
the moment overhead
while one is circling
this way another circles that
like kites without strings
where is the boy that
by his shadow on the rock
and look to the sun
how he soars and sails
circling higher and wider--
how light he becomes
how beautiful does
he repose on the air
the moment overhead
while one is circling
this way another circles that
like kites without strings
where is the boy that
flies them this season – what makes
this a day for hawks?
September 16, 1852
 |
| September 16, 2016 |
A southeast storm. . . . The trees are unprepared to resist a wind from this quarter. September, 16, 1858
There have been a few slight frosts in some places. September 16, 1854
There have been a few slight frosts in some places. September 16, 1854
River fallen one and a half inches. Is three feet and seven eighths of an inch above summer level, i. e. at notch on tree. September 16, 1860
One Asclepias Cornuti begun to discount. September 16, 1854
See no zizania seed ripe, or black, yet, but almost all is fallen. September 16, 1860
Solidago latifolia in prime at Botrychium Swamp. September 16, 1857
Barberries very handsome now. See boys gathering them . . . September 16, 1857
Fever-bush berries already ripe. September 16, 1857
Walked through that beautiful soft white pine grove on the west of the road in John Flint’s pasture. These trees are large, but there is ample space between them, so that the ground is left grassy. September 16, 1857
Great pines two or more feet in diameter branch sometimes within two feet of the ground on each side, sending out large horizontal branches on which you can sit. There is no finer tree. September 16, 1857
The different stages of its soft glaucous foliage completely concealing the trunk and branches are separated by dark horizontal lines of shadow, the flakes of pine foliage, like a pile of light fleeces. September 16, 1857
I see green and closed cones beneath, which the squirrels have thrown down. On the trees many are already open. September 16, 1857
In one small wood, all the white pine cones are on the ground, generally unopened, evidently freshly thrown down by the squirrels, and then the greater part have already been stripped. September 16, 1857
They begin at the base of the cone, as with the pitch pine. It is evident that they have just been very busy throwing down the white pine cones in all woods. September 16, 1857
William Monroe is said to have been the first who raised teasels about here. September 16, 1856
The inhabitants of Lincoln yield sooner than usual to the influence of the rising generation, and are a mixture of rather simple but clever with a well-informed and trustworthy people. September 16, 1851
As I go up the Walden road, at Breed’s, Hubbard, driving his cows through the weed-field, scares a woodchuck, which comes running through the wall and down the road, quite gray, and does not see me in the road a rod off. September 16, 1855
As I go up the Walden road, at Breed’s, Hubbard, driving his cows through the weed-field, scares a woodchuck, which comes running through the wall and down the road, quite gray, and does not see me in the road a rod off. September 16, 1855
He stops a rod off when I move in front of him. Short legs and body flat toward the ground, i.e. flattened out at sides. September 16, 1855
I see a wood tortoise in the woods. Why is it there now? September 16, 1854
I find the mud turtle’s eggs at the Desert all hatched, one still left in the nest. As the eggs were laid the 7th of June, it makes about three months before they came out of the ground. September 16, 1854
At length it puts out its head and legs, turns itself round, and crawls to the water. September 16, 1854
I am invited to take some party of ladies or gentlemen on an excursion, -- to walk or sail, or the like. But by all kinds of evasions I omit it, and am thought to be rude. September 16, 1859
They do not consider that the wood-path and the boat are my studio, where I maintain a sacred solitude. They do not think of taking a child away from school to go a-huckleberrying. Why should not I, then, have my school and school hours to be respected? September 16, 1859
Ask me for a certain number of dollars if you will, but do not ask me for my afternoons. September 16, 1859
I hear a warbling vireo in the village, which I have not heard for long, and the common che-wink note in the woods. September 16, 1852
Some birds, like some flowers, begin to sing again in the fall. September 16, 1852
I see little flocks of chip-birds along the roadside and on the apple trees, showing their light under sides when they rise. September 16, 1854
The rippled blue surface of Fair Haven from the Cliffs, with its smooth white border where weeds preserve the surface smooth, a placid silver-plated rim. The pond is like the sky with a border of whitish clouds in the horizon. September 16, 1852
The pond like the sky
a border of whitish clouds
in the horizon.
I detect the transit of the first by his shadow on the rock, and look toward the sun for him. Though he is made light beneath to conceal him, his shadow betrays him. September 16, 1852
Now I see a large one circling and circling higher and wider. This way he comes. How beautiful does he repose on the air in the moment when he is directly over you and you see the form and texture of his wings. How light he must make himself before he can thus soar and sail. September 16, 1852
They are out by families; while one is circling this way, another circles that; kites without strings. Where is the boy that flies them? Are not the hawks most observed at this season? September 16, 1852
The jay screams; the goldfinch twitters; the barberries are red. The corn is topped. September 16, 1852
September 16, 2013
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Milkweed.
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Blue Jay
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau the Goldfinch
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The hen-hawk
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The White Pines
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Chipping Sparrow
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau The Wood Turtle
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The White Pines
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Chipping Sparrow
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau The Wood Turtle
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Common Barberry
March 24, 1860 ("During the year the wind [at Cambridge] was southwest 130 days, northwest 87, northeast 59, south 33, west 29, east 14, southeast 10, north 3 days.")
April 2, 1853 ("Together with the driftwood on the shore of the Assabet and the sawdust from Heywood's mill, I pick up teasel-heads from the factory with the wool still in them. ”)
April 11, 1856 ("Here, also, in the river wreck is the never-failing teazle, telling of the factory above, and sawdust from the mill. The teased river! These I do not notice on the South Branch. “)
May 11, 1855 ("It is most impressive when, looking for their nests, you first detect the presence of the bird by its shadow.")
May 15, 1856 ("At Heywood Spring I see a clumsy woodchuck, . . . It runs, or waddles, to its hole two or three rods off, and as usual pauses, listening, at its entrance till I start again, then dives in”)
June 7, 1854 ("A snapping turtle . . . had just been excavating.”)
April 2, 1853 ("Together with the driftwood on the shore of the Assabet and the sawdust from Heywood's mill, I pick up teasel-heads from the factory with the wool still in them. ”)
April 11, 1856 ("Here, also, in the river wreck is the never-failing teazle, telling of the factory above, and sawdust from the mill. The teased river! These I do not notice on the South Branch. “)
May 11, 1855 ("It is most impressive when, looking for their nests, you first detect the presence of the bird by its shadow.")
May 15, 1856 ("At Heywood Spring I see a clumsy woodchuck, . . . It runs, or waddles, to its hole two or three rods off, and as usual pauses, listening, at its entrance till I start again, then dives in”)
June 7, 1854 ("A snapping turtle . . . had just been excavating.”)
Already I hear
the jays with more distinctness
like fall and winter.
August 7, 1853
August 8, 1857 (“B. M. Watson sent me from Plymouth, July 20th, six glow-worms,”)
August 11, 1852 ("I am attracted by the clear dark-green leaves of the fever-bush.”);
August 19, 1852 (The clear dark-green leaves of the fever-bush overhang the stream.”)
August 21, 1854 ("The fever-bush berries are partly turned red, perhaps prematurely.”)
A blue jay screams,
and one or two fly over,
showing handsome forms.
August 23,1853
August 31, 1856 (“Some are so inconsiderate as to ask to walk or sail with me regularly every day”)
September 1, 1856 (“Solidago latifolia not out quite.”)
September 1, 1853 ("Saw a red squirrel cutting off white pine cones. He had strewn the ground with them, as yet untouched, under the tree.")
September 1, 1859 ("Green white pine cones are thrown down. An unusual quantity of these have been stripped for some time past, and I see the ground about the bases of the trees strewn with them. ")
September 2, 1857 (“In the botrychium swamp, where the fever-bush is the prevailing underwood”)
September 4, 1856 ("The fever-bush is conspicuously flower-budded. Even its spicy leaves have been cut by the tailor bee, and circular pieces taken out. He was, perhaps, attracted by its smoothness and soundness.")
September 4, 1852 ("The zizania ripe, shining black, cylindrical kernels, five eighths of an inch long.")
September 6, 1859 ("The fever-bush leaves are remarkably round and entire yet, as if by their odor defended from insects")
September 4, 1856 ("The fever-bush is conspicuously flower-budded. Even its spicy leaves have been cut by the tailor bee, and circular pieces taken out. He was, perhaps, attracted by its smoothness and soundness.")
September 4, 1852 ("The zizania ripe, shining black, cylindrical kernels, five eighths of an inch long.")
September 6, 1859 ("The fever-bush leaves are remarkably round and entire yet, as if by their odor defended from insects")
September 11, 1854 (“At length it put its head out far enough to see if the coast was clear, then, with its flippers, it turned itself toward the water”)
Amid October woodswe here no funeral bell butthe scream of the jay.September 12, 1858
September 13, 1856 ("Barberries. . . already handsomely red, though not much more than half turned”)
September 14, 1852 ("This morning the first frost")
September 14, 1852 ("This morning the first frost")
September 15, 1851 ("Ice in the pail under the pump, and quite a frost.")
September 17, 1851 ("Perambulated the Lincoln line")
September 15, 1851 ("The potato vines and the beans which were still green are now blackened and flattened by the frost.")
September 15, 1855 ("An Emys insculpta which I mistook for dead, under water near shore; head and legs and tail hanging down straight. Turned it over, and to my surprise found it coupled with another. It was at first difficult to separate them with a paddle")
September 15, 1858 ("There is a southeast wind, with clouds, and I suspect a storm brewing. It is very rare that the wind blows from this quarter.”)
September 15, 1859 ("This morning the first frost in the garden, killing some of our vines.")
September 15, 1859 ("This morning the first frost in the garden, killing some of our vines.")
Along the roadside
little flocks of chip-birds show
their light undersides.
September 17, 1851 ("Perambulated the Lincoln line")
September 17, 1858 ("The orchards are strewn with windfalls, mostly quite green.")
September 17, 1858 (“Methinks, too, that there are more sparrows in flocks now about in garden”)
September 17, 1858 (“Cooler weather now for two or three days, so that I am glad to sit in the sun on the east side of the house mornings.”)
September 17, 1860 ("6.30 a. m. — River thirty-four and an eighth above summer level, or fallen about four inches since evening of 15th.")
September 25, 1855 ("We get about three pecks of barberries from four or five bushes, but I fill my fingers with prickles to pay for them.”);
September 27, 1857 ("I see the shadow of a hawk flying above and behind me. I think I see more hawks nowadays.")
September 28, 1852 ("Children are now gathering barberries, — just the right time.")
October 1, 1853 ("Got three pecks of barberries.")
October 4, 1857 (“Fever-bush has begun to yellow.”)October 5, 1858 ("I still see large flocks, apparently of chip birds, on the weeds and ground in the yard.”)
October 5, 1858 ("The fever-bush is in the height of its change and is a showy clear lemon yellow, contrasting with its scarlet berries.")
September 17, 1858 (“Methinks, too, that there are more sparrows in flocks now about in garden”)
September 17, 1858 (“Cooler weather now for two or three days, so that I am glad to sit in the sun on the east side of the house mornings.”)
September 17, 1860 ("6.30 a. m. — River thirty-four and an eighth above summer level, or fallen about four inches since evening of 15th.")
September 18, 1859 ("There is an abundant crop of cones on the white pines this year, and they are now for the most part brown and open. . . . the winged seeds have fallen or are ready to fall. How little observed are the fruits which we do not use! How few attend to the ripening and dispersion of the pine seed! ")
September 18, 1856 ("I get a full peck from about three bushes.”)
September 19, 1856 (“Gather just half a bushel of barberries on hill in less than two hours, or three pecks to-day and yesterday in less than three hours. It is singular that I have so few, if any, competitors.”)
September 19, 1856 (“Gather just half a bushel of barberries on hill in less than two hours, or three pecks to-day and yesterday in less than three hours. It is singular that I have so few, if any, competitors.”)
September 19, 1856 (“Gather just half a bushel of barberries on hill in less than two hours, or three pecks to-day and yesterday in less than three hours. It is singular that I have so few, if any, competitors.”)
September 19, 1856 (“Gather just half a bushel of barberries on hill in less than two hours, or three pecks to-day and yesterday in less than three hours. It is singular that I have so few, if any, competitors.”)
September 21, 1854 ("The first frost in our yard last night,")
September 21, 1856 ("Asclepias Cornuti discounting.")
September 21, 1856 ("Asclepias Cornuti discounting.")
September 24, 1857 ("I walk to that very dense and handsome white pine grove east of Beck Stow’s Swamp . . . The ground was completely strewn with white pine cones, apparently thrown down by the squirrels, still generally green and closed, but many stripped of scales, about the base of almost every pine, sometimes all of them.")
September 24, 1859 ("Fever-bush berries are scarlet now, and also green. They have a more spicy taste than any of our berries, carrying us in thought to the spice islands. Taste like lemon-peel.")
September 25, 1858 ("The zizania fruit is green yet, but mostly dropped or plucked. Does it fall, or do birds pluck it?")September 24, 1859 ("Fever-bush berries are scarlet now, and also green. They have a more spicy taste than any of our berries, carrying us in thought to the spice islands. Taste like lemon-peel.")
Flitting and screaming
from pine to pine displaying
gaudy blue pinions.
September 25, 1851
September 27, 1857 ("I see the shadow of a hawk flying above and behind me. I think I see more hawks nowadays.")
September 28, 1852 ("Children are now gathering barberries, — just the right time.")
October 1, 1853 ("Got three pecks of barberries.")
October 4, 1857 (“Fever-bush has begun to yellow.”)
October 5, 1858 ("The fever-bush is in the height of its change and is a showy clear lemon yellow, contrasting with its scarlet berries.")
The jay’s voice resounds
with more freedom now due to
fallen maple leaves.
October 5, 1857
The jay’s shrill note is
more distinct of late about
the edges of the woods.
October 6, 1856
October 7, 1860 ("Now and for a week the chip-birds in flocks; the withered grass and weeds, etc., alive with them.")
October 8, 1856 (“S. latifolia, far gone.”)
October 15, 1859 ("The fever-bush is for the most part bare, and I see no berries.")
The red squirrels scold
and the jays scream while you are
clubbing and shaking trees.
October 11, 1852
Metallic clanging
sometimes a mew. Refer any
strange note to the jay.
October 11, 1856
October 19, 1856 ("The Asclepias Cornuti pods are now apparently in the midst of discounting.")
October 20, 1857 ("Much or most of the fever-bush still green, though somewhat wrinkled.")
October 21, 1857 ("I saw wood tortoises coupled up the Assabet, the back of the upper above water. It held the lower with its claws about the head, and they were not to be parted.")
October 23, 1853 ("Many phenomena remind me that now is to some extent a second spring, — not only the new-springing and blossoming of flowers, but the peeping of the hylodes for some time, and the faint warbling of their spring notes by many birds.");
October 23, 1852 ("The milkweed (Syriaca) now rapidly discounting. The lanceolate pods having opened, the seeds spring out on the least jar, or when dried by the sun, and form a little fluctuating white silky mass or tuft, each held by the extremities of the fine threads, until a stronger puff of wind sets them free")
October 25, 1858 ("Near the end of the causeway, milkweed is copiously discounting. This is much fairer than the thistle-down. It apparently bursts its pods after rain especially (as yesterday’s), opening on the under side, away from succeeding rains. Half a dozen seeds or more, attached by the tips of their silks to the core of the pod, will be blown about there a long time before a strong puff launches them away, and in the meanwhile they are expanding and drying their silk.")
October 23, 1853 ("Many phenomena remind me that now is to some extent a second spring, — not only the new-springing and blossoming of flowers, but the peeping of the hylodes for some time, and the faint warbling of their spring notes by many birds.");
October 23, 1852 ("The milkweed (Syriaca) now rapidly discounting. The lanceolate pods having opened, the seeds spring out on the least jar, or when dried by the sun, and form a little fluctuating white silky mass or tuft, each held by the extremities of the fine threads, until a stronger puff of wind sets them free")
October 25, 1858 ("Near the end of the causeway, milkweed is copiously discounting. This is much fairer than the thistle-down. It apparently bursts its pods after rain especially (as yesterday’s), opening on the under side, away from succeeding rains. Half a dozen seeds or more, attached by the tips of their silks to the core of the pod, will be blown about there a long time before a strong puff launches them away, and in the meanwhile they are expanding and drying their silk.")
November 5, 1858 ("Water milkweed has been discounting some days, with its small upright pods. ")
November 7, 1855 ("It is long since I have seen one of any species except the insculpta.)
November 11, 1855 ("I am surprised to ... hear the wood tortoise rustling down the bank. ")
November 11, 1859 ("I observed, October 23d, wood turtles copulating in the Assabet,")
November 7, 1855 ("It is long since I have seen one of any species except the insculpta.)
November 11, 1855 ("I am surprised to ... hear the wood tortoise rustling down the bank. ")
November 11, 1859 ("I observed, October 23d, wood turtles copulating in the Assabet,")
November 18, 1860 ("I frequently see the heads of teasel, called fuller’s thistle, floating on our river, having come from factories above, and thus the factories which use it may distribute its seeds by means of the streams which turn their machinery, from one to another. The one who first cultivated the teasel extensively in this town is said to have obtained the seed when it was not to be purchased - the culture being monopolized - by sweeping a wagon which he had loaned to a teasel-raiser.")
November 20, 1858 ("The common milkweed (Asclepias Cornuti) and some thistles still discounting.").
November 25, 1857 (“There is no man with whom I can associate who will not, comparatively speaking, spoil my afternoon.”)
November 25, 1857 (“There is no man with whom I can associate who will not, comparatively speaking, spoil my afternoon.”)
 September 16, 2019 |
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.
September 15 <<<<<<<<< September 16. >>> >>>>> September 17
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, September 16
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/HDT16September
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