Dew on a fine grass
white and silvery as frost --
the newly risen sun.
Last year, for the last three weeks of August, the woods were filled with the strong musty scent of decaying fungi, but this year I have seen very few fungi and have not noticed that odor at all, — a failure more perceptible to frogs and toads, but no doubt serious to those whom it concerns. September 10, 1854
The still, cloudy, mizzling days, September 1st and 2d, the thunder-shower of evening of September 6th, and this regular storm are the first fall rains after the long drought.
September 10, 1854
September 10, 1854
Yesterday and to-day the first regular rain-storm, bringing down more leaves, and decidedly raising the river and brooks. September 10, 1854
There was a frost this morning.
Squash vines on the Great Fields, generally killed and blackened by frost . . . revealing the yellow fruit, perhaps prematurely. September 10, 1857
Hills which have been russet and tawny begin to show some greenness. September 10, 1854
Already the grass both in meadows and on hills looks greener, and the whole landscape, this overcast rainy day, darker and more verdurous. September 10, 1854
The Aster Tradescanti, now in its prime, sugars the banks all along the riverside with a profusion of small white blossoms resounding with the hum of bees. September 10, 1853
It covered the ground to the depth of two feet over large tracts, looking at a little distance somewhat like a smart hoar frost or sleet or sugaring on the weeds. September 10, 1853
Leaving Lowell at 7 A. M. in the cars, I observed and admired the dew on a fine grass in the meadows, which was almost as white and silvery as frost when the rays of the newly risen sun fell on it. September 10, 1860
Some of it was probably the frost of the morning melted. September 10, 1860
I saw that this phenomenon was confined to one species of grass, which grew in narrow curving lines and small patches along the edges of the meadows or lowest ground, grass with very fine stems and branches, which held the dew. September 10, 1860
Owing to the number of its а very fine branches, now in their prime, it holds the dew like a cobweb, – a clear drop at the end and lesser drops or beads all along the fine branches and stems. September 10, 1860
Call it dew-grass.
This is noticed about the time the first frosts come. September 10, 1860
Almost all other grasses are now either cut or withering, and are, beside, so coarse comparatively that they can never present this phenomenon. September 10, 1860
It is only a grass that is in its full vigor, as well as fine-branched (capillary), that can thus attract and uphold the dew. September 10, 1860
And thus this plant has its day. September 10, 1860
Almost every plant, however humble, has thus its day, and sooner or later becomes the characteristic feature of some part of the landscape or other. September 10, 1860
Standing by Peter's well, the white maples by the bank of the river a mile off now give a rosaceous tinge to the edge of the meadow. September 10, 1857
Cardinal-flower, nearly done. September 10, 1857
Beach plum, almost ripe. September 10, 1857
Tower-mustard in bloom again. September 10, 1858
I can find no trace of the tortoise-eggs of June 18, though there is no trace of their having been disturbed by skunks. They must have been hatched earlier. C. says he saw a painted tortoise a third grown, with a freshly killed minnow in his mouth as long as himself, eating it. September 10, 1855
Thinking over the tortoises, I gave these names: rough tortoise, scented ditto, vermilion (rainbow, rail?), yellow box, black box, and yellow-spotted. September 10, 1855
March 18, 1853 ("These plants waste not a day, not a moment, suitable to their development.")
March 31, 1856 ("To Peter’s -- I see the scarlet tops of white maples nearly a mile off, down the river, the lusty shoots of last year.”)
April 28, 1855 ("The red maples, now in bloom, are quite handsome at a distance over the flooded meadow beyond Peter’s. The abundant wholesome gray of the trunks and stems beneath surmounted by the red or scarlet crescents.”)
May 1, 1855 ("The maples of Potter’s Swamp, seen now nearly half a mile off against the russet or reddish hillside, are a very dull scarlet, like Spanish brown . . .”); s now a remarkable drought, some of whose phenomena I have referred to during several weeks past.”)
September 26, 1857 (" I see musquash-houses");
September 27, 1856 ("The Aster multiflorus may easily be confounded with the A. Tradescanti. Like it, it whitens the roadside in some places. It has purplish disks, but a less straggling top than the Tradescanti.")
Cardinal-flower, nearly done. September 10, 1857
Beach plum, almost ripe. September 10, 1857
Tower-mustard in bloom again. September 10, 1858
I see lambkill ready to bloom a second time. September 10, 1857
See wasps, collected in the sun on a wall, at 9 A. M. September 10, 1859
A musquash-house begun. September 10, 1858
I can find no trace of the tortoise-eggs of June 18, though there is no trace of their having been disturbed by skunks. They must have been hatched earlier. C. says he saw a painted tortoise a third grown, with a freshly killed minnow in his mouth as long as himself, eating it. September 10, 1855
Thinking over the tortoises, I gave these names: rough tortoise, scented ditto, vermilion (rainbow, rail?), yellow box, black box, and yellow-spotted. September 10, 1855
September 10, 2022
*****
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau:
The Yellow-Spotted Turtle (Emys guttata)
*****
March 31, 1856 ("To Peter’s -- I see the scarlet tops of white maples nearly a mile off, down the river, the lusty shoots of last year.”)
April 28, 1855 ("The red maples, now in bloom, are quite handsome at a distance over the flooded meadow beyond Peter’s. The abundant wholesome gray of the trunks and stems beneath surmounted by the red or scarlet crescents.”)
May 1, 1855 ("The maples of Potter’s Swamp, seen now nearly half a mile off against the russet or reddish hillside, are a very dull scarlet, like Spanish brown . . .”); s now a remarkable drought, some of whose phenomena I have referred to during several weeks past.”)
May 11, 1852 ("I find on examining, a small, clear drop at the end of each blade, quite at the top on one side.“)
May 13, 1860 ("I observe this morning the dew on the grass in our yard. Each dewdrop is a delicate crystalline sphere trembling at the tip of a fresh green grass-blade. Each dewdrop takes the form of the planet itself. The surface of the globe is thus tremblingly alive.")
June 11, 1858 ("Looking carefully to see where the ground had been recently disturbed, I dug with my hand and could directly feel the passage to the eggs, and so discovered two or three nests with their large and long eggs, – five eggs in one of them.")
June 13, 1852 ("Lambkill is out. I remember with what delight I used to discover this flower in dewy mornings.All things in this world must be seen with the morning dew on them, must be seen with youthful, early-opened, hopeful eyes.")
June 13, 1852 ("Lambkill is out. I remember with what delight I used to discover this flower in dewy mornings.All things in this world must be seen with the morning dew on them, must be seen with youthful, early-opened, hopeful eyes.")
June 12, 1860 ("At this moment these turtles are on their way inland to lay their eggs all over the State, warily drawing in their heads and waiting when you come by.")
June 16, 1858 (“I see a yellow-spotted turtle digging its hole at mid afternoon, but, like the last of this species I saw, it changed its place after I saw it, and I did not get an egg; it is so wary.”)
June 18, 1858 ("I find a young Emys insculpta, apparently going to lay, though she had not dug a hole. It was four and a quarter inches long by three and a half wide, and altogether the handsomest turtle of this species, if not of any, that I have ever seen.")
June 18, 1855 ("At 3 P. M., as I walk up the bank by the Hemlocks, I see a painted tortoise just beginning its hole; . . . I stoop down over it, and, to my surprise, after a slight pause it proceeds in its work, directly under and within eighteen inches of my face.")
June 19, 1854 (“Suddenly comes the gust, and the big drops slanting from the north. . . It rains against the windows like hail . . .Soon silver puddles shine in the streets. This the first rain of consequence for at least three weeks.”)
July 14, 1854 (“Awake to day of gentle rain, — very much needed; none to speak of for nearly a month, methinks”)
August 11, 1854 ("Aster Tradescanti, two or three days in low ground; flowers smaller than A. dumosus, densely racemed, with short peduncles or branchlets, calyx-scales narrower and more pointed.")
August 14, 1856 ("Aster tradescanti, apparently a day or two.")
August 15, 1858 ("The smaller white maples are very generally turned a dull red, and their long row, seen against the fresh green of Ball’s Hill, is very surprising")
June 16, 1858 (“I see a yellow-spotted turtle digging its hole at mid afternoon, but, like the last of this species I saw, it changed its place after I saw it, and I did not get an egg; it is so wary.”)
June 18, 1858 ("I find a young Emys insculpta, apparently going to lay, though she had not dug a hole. It was four and a quarter inches long by three and a half wide, and altogether the handsomest turtle of this species, if not of any, that I have ever seen.")
June 18, 1855 ("At 3 P. M., as I walk up the bank by the Hemlocks, I see a painted tortoise just beginning its hole; . . . I stoop down over it, and, to my surprise, after a slight pause it proceeds in its work, directly under and within eighteen inches of my face.")
June 19, 1854 (“Suddenly comes the gust, and the big drops slanting from the north. . . It rains against the windows like hail . . .Soon silver puddles shine in the streets. This the first rain of consequence for at least three weeks.”)
July 14, 1854 (“Awake to day of gentle rain, — very much needed; none to speak of for nearly a month, methinks”)
August 11, 1854 ("Aster Tradescanti, two or three days in low ground; flowers smaller than A. dumosus, densely racemed, with short peduncles or branchlets, calyx-scales narrower and more pointed.")
August 14, 1856 ("Aster tradescanti, apparently a day or two.")
August 15, 1858 ("The smaller white maples are very generally turned a dull red, and their long row, seen against the fresh green of Ball’s Hill, is very surprising")
August 16, 1853 ("Yesterday also in the Marlborough woods, perceived everywhere that offensive mustiness of decaying fungi. ")
August 19, 1851 ("For some days past I have noticed a red maple or two about the pond, though we have had no frost. The grass is very wet with dew this morning.")
August 19, 1854 ("There is now a remarkable drought, some of whose phenomena I have referred to during several weeks past.”).
August 19, 1854 ("There is now a remarkable drought, some of whose phenomena I have referred to during several weeks past.”).
August 19, 1854 ("There is now a remarkable drought, some of whose phenomena I have referred to during several weeks past.”)
August 21, 1852 ("See The bees, wasps, etc. are on the goldenrods, improving their time before the sun of the year sets")
August 23, 1856 ("The scent of decaying fungi in woods is quite offensive now in many places, like carrion even.")August 26, 1856 ("Each humblest plant, or weed, as we call it, stands there to express some thought or mood of ours.")
;August 26, 1854 ("I am convinced that there must be an irresistible necessity for mud turtles.”);
August 27, 1856 (“The cardinals in this ditch make a splendid show now”).
August 28, 1856 ("I open the painted tortoise nest of June 10th, and find a young turtle partly out of his shell. . . .What's a summer? Time for a turtle's eggs to hatch. So is the turtle developed, fitted to endure, for he outlives twenty French dynasties. One turtle knows several Napoleons. ")
August 29, 1851 ("I find a wasp in my window, which already appears to be taking refuge from winter");
August 30, 1851 ("This plant acts not an obscure, but essential, part in the revolution of the seasons. May I perform my part as well!")
August 31, 1853 (Is that very dense-flowered small white aster with short branched racemes A. Tradescanti?")
September 1, 1854 (" The Aster Tradescanti is perhaps beginning to whiten the shores on moist banks.")September 1, 1856 ("A. Tradescanti, got to be pretty common, but not yet in prime.")
;August 26, 1854 ("I am convinced that there must be an irresistible necessity for mud turtles.”);
August 27, 1856 (“The cardinals in this ditch make a splendid show now”).
August 28, 1856 ("I open the painted tortoise nest of June 10th, and find a young turtle partly out of his shell. . . .What's a summer? Time for a turtle's eggs to hatch. So is the turtle developed, fitted to endure, for he outlives twenty French dynasties. One turtle knows several Napoleons. ")
August 29, 1851 ("I find a wasp in my window, which already appears to be taking refuge from winter");
August 30, 1851 ("This plant acts not an obscure, but essential, part in the revolution of the seasons. May I perform my part as well!")
August 31, 1853 (Is that very dense-flowered small white aster with short branched racemes A. Tradescanti?")
September 1, 1854 (" The Aster Tradescanti is perhaps beginning to whiten the shores on moist banks.")September 1, 1856 ("A. Tradescanti, got to be pretty common, but not yet in prime.")
September 1, 1853 (""That small aster which I call A. Tradescanti, with crowded racemes, somewhat rolled or cylindrical to appearance, of small white flowers a third of an inch in diameter, with yellow disks turning reddish or purplish, is very pretty by the low roadsides, resounding with the hum of honey-bees; which is commonly despised for its smallness and commonness, — with crowded systems of little suns.")
September 7, 1857 ("Our first slight frost in some places this morning. Northwest wind to-day and cool weather; such weather as we have not had for a long time, a new experience, which arouses a corresponding breeze in us.")
September 8, 1858 ("I perceive the dark-crimson leaves, quite crisp, of the white maple on the meadows, recently fallen.")
September 9, 1852 ("The goldenrods resound with the hum of bees and other insects. ")
September 9, 1854 ("Thus the earth is the mother of all creatures.”)
The grass looks greener
this rainy overcast day
after the long drought
September 11, 1854 ("This is a cold evening with a white twilight, and threatens frost, the first - in these respects- decidedly autumnal evening")
September 12, 1858 ("Some small red maples by water begun to redden.")
September 13, 1852 ("How earnestly and rapidly each creature, each flower, is fulfilling its part while its day lasts!")
September 14, 1856 (“The flowering of the ditches.”)
September 14, 1856 ("Now for the Aster Tradescanti along low roads, like the Turnpike, swarming with butterflies and bees. Some of them are pink.")
September 14, 1856 ("Now for the Aster Tradescanti along low roads, like the Turnpike, swarming with butterflies and bees. Some of them are pink.")
September 14, 1852 ("This morning the first frost")
September 15, 1851 ("Ice in the pail under the pump, and quite a frost.. . .The potato vines and the beans which were still green are now blackened and flattened by the frost."); September 15, 1859 ("This morning the first frost in the garden, killing some of our vines.");
September 16, 1854 ("There have been a few slight frosts in some places. ")
September 17, 1857 ("How perfectly each plant has its turn! – as if the seasons revolved for it alone.")September 18, 1854 ("I see the potatoes all black with frosts that have occurred within a night or two in Moore’s Swamp.")
September 19, 1852 ("The Viola lanceolata has blossomed again, and the lambkill.")
September 20, 1855 (" Open a new and pretty sizable muskrat-house with no hollow yet made in it")September 20, 1851 ("On Monday of the present week water was frozen in a pail under the pump. . . .All tender herbs are flat in gardens and meadows. The cranberries, too, are touched.")
September 20, 1855 ("First decisive frost, killing melons and beans, browning button-bushes and grape leaves..")
September 26, 1857 ("The season is waning. A wasp just looked in upon me."); September 26, 1857 (" I see musquash-houses");
September 27, 1856 ("The Aster multiflorus may easily be confounded with the A. Tradescanti. Like it, it whitens the roadside in some places. It has purplish disks, but a less straggling top than the Tradescanti.")
September 28, 1852 ("This is the commencement, then, of the second spring. Violets, Potentilla Canadensis, lambkill, wild rose, yellow lily, etc., etc., begin again ")
September 29, 1853 ("Lambkill blossoms again.")
October 2, 1851 ("At the Cliffs, I find the wasps prolonging their short lives on the sunny rocks, just as they endeavored to do at my house in the woods.");
October 12, 1856 ("Wasps for some time looking about for winter quarters.")
October 15, 1851 ("The muskrat-houses appear now for the most part to be finished. ");
October 16, 1859 ("I see the new musquash-houses erected, conspicuous on the now nearly leafless shores. To me this is an important and suggestive sight . . . I remember this phenomenon annually for thirty years. A more constant phenomenon here than the new haystacks in the yard, for they were erected here probably before man dwelt here and may still be erected here when man has departed. For thirty years I have annually observed, about this time or earlier, the freshly erected winter lodges of the musquash along the riverside . . . So surely as the sun appears to be in Libra or Scorpio, I see the conical winter lodges of the musquash")
October 22, 1858 ("When you come to observe faithfully the changes of each humblest plant, you find, it may be unexpectedly, that each has sooner or later its peculiar autumnal tint or tints")
October 12, 1856 ("Wasps for some time looking about for winter quarters.")
October 15, 1851 ("The muskrat-houses appear now for the most part to be finished. ");
October 16, 1859 ("I see the new musquash-houses erected, conspicuous on the now nearly leafless shores. To me this is an important and suggestive sight . . . I remember this phenomenon annually for thirty years. A more constant phenomenon here than the new haystacks in the yard, for they were erected here probably before man dwelt here and may still be erected here when man has departed. For thirty years I have annually observed, about this time or earlier, the freshly erected winter lodges of the musquash along the riverside . . . So surely as the sun appears to be in Libra or Scorpio, I see the conical winter lodges of the musquash")
October 22, 1858 ("When you come to observe faithfully the changes of each humblest plant, you find, it may be unexpectedly, that each has sooner or later its peculiar autumnal tint or tints")
December 13, 1858 ("And on those fine grass heads which are bent over in the path the fine dew-like drops are frozen separately like a string of beads")
September 10, 2017
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, September 10
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
tinyurl.com/HDT10SEPT
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