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
Last night the first frost –
the grass in our yard white and
stiff in the morning.
The forenoon is cold –
but it's a fine clear day for
an afternoon walk.
With these cooler days
we again appreciate
the warmth of the sun.
Fine September day
peculiarly warm and bright–
yellow butterflies.
September 21, 2015
The first frost in our yard last night, the grass white and stiff in the morning. September 21, 1854
The forenoon is cold, and I have a fire, but it is a fine clear day, as I find when I come forth to walk in the afternoon. September 21, 1854
The warmth of the sun is just beginning to be appreciated again on the advent of cooler days. September 21, 1857
A peculiarly fine September day, looking toward the fall, warm and bright, with yellow butterflies in the the washed road, and early-changed maples and shrubs adorning the low grounds. September 21, 1859.
A peculiarly fine September day, looking toward the fall, warm and bright, with yellow butterflies in the the washed road, and early-changed maples and shrubs adorning the low grounds. September 21, 1859.
The red maples, especially at a distance, begin to light their fires, some turning yellow, and within the woods many oak, e.g. scarlet and black and chestnut, and other leaves begin to show their colors. September 21, 1854
With this bright, clear, but rather cool air the bright yellow of the autumnal dandelion is in harmony and the heads of the dilapidated goldenrods. September 21, 1854
With this bright, clear, but rather cool air the bright yellow of the autumnal dandelion is in harmony and the heads of the dilapidated goldenrods. September 21, 1854
Solidago nemoralis mostly done. September 21, 1856
Solidago altissima past prime. September 21, 1856
Saw, in Salem, Solidago Canadensis, considerably past prime; our three-ribbed one done. September 21, 1858
On top of Cliff, behind the big stump, a yellow white goldenrod . . . That is a great place for white goldenrod, now in its prime and swarming with honey-bees. September 21, 1856
The Solidago casia is very common and fresh in copses, perhaps the prevailing solidago now in woods. September 21, 1857
Saw no Aster Tradescanti in this walk, but an abundance of A. multiflorus in its prime, in Salem and Marblehead. September 21, 1858
Aster undulatus in prime, in the dry woods just beyond Hayden's, large slanting, pyramidal panicles of some lilac-tinged, others quite white, flowers, size of Diplopappus linariifolius. September 21, 1856
Yesterday was a still, overcast, rain-promising day, and I saw this morning (perhaps it was yesterday) the ground about the back door all marked with worm-piles. Had they not come out for water after the dry weather? September 21, 1859
It is remarkably dry weather. September 21, 1851
The neighbors' wells are failing. September 21, 1851
The river is so low that rocks which are rarely seen show their black heads in mid-channel. September 21, 1851
The pond is low near the bathing-rock. September 21, 1854
It is remarkably dry weather. September 21, 1851
The neighbors' wells are failing. September 21, 1851
The river is so low that rocks which are rarely seen show their black heads in mid-channel. September 21, 1851
The pond is low near the bathing-rock. September 21, 1854
Lobelia Dortmanna still out at Flint’s Pond. September 21, 1854
White Pond is being dimpled here and there all over, perhaps by fishes; and so is the river. It is an overcast day. Has that anything to do with it? September 21, 1859
Considerable many acorns are fallen (black oak chiefly) in the path under the south edge of Conant's Wood, this side of White Pond. September 21, 1859
White Pond is being dimpled here and there all over, perhaps by fishes; and so is the river. It is an overcast day. Has that anything to do with it? September 21, 1859
Considerable many acorns are fallen (black oak chiefly) in the path under the south edge of Conant's Wood, this side of White Pond. September 21, 1859
Those pretty little white oak acorn stars of three rays are now quite common on the ground. September 21, 1854
Acorns have been falling very sparingly ever since September 1, but are mostly wormy. They are as interesting now on the shrub oak (green) as ever. September 21, 1859
I perceive that many of the leaves of shrub oaks and other bushes have been killed by the severe frosts of last week, before they have got ripe and acquired the tints of autumn, and they now look as a fire had run through them, dry and crispy and brown. September 21, 1851
The muskmelon vines are now blackened in the sun. September 21, 1854
The gentian is already frost-bitten almost as soon as it is open. September 21, 1854
The white pines near Bangor perfectly parti-colored and falling to-day. Reached Bangor at dark. September 21, 1853
Came through that thick white pine wood on the east of the spruce swamp. September 21, 1857
The white pines near Bangor perfectly parti-colored and falling to-day. Reached Bangor at dark. September 21, 1853
Came through that thick white pine wood on the east of the spruce swamp. September 21, 1857
This is a very dense white pine grove . . . In a dark day the wood is not only thick but dark with the boles of the trees. September 21, 1857
Under this dense shade, the red-carpeted ground is almost bare of vegetation and is dark at noon. September 21, 1857
There grow Goodyera pubescens and repens, Corallorhiza multiflora (going to seed), white cohosh berries, Pyrola secunda, and, on the low west side and also the east side, an abundance of tobacco-pipe, which has begun to turn black at the tip of the petals and leaves. September 21, 1857
Swamp thistle, still abundant. September 21, 1858
I notice new cabins of the muskrats in solitary swamps. September 21, 1851
As I walk through the maple swamp by the Corner Spring, I am surprised to see apples on the ground. September 21, 1852
The apple crop, red and yellow, more conspicuous than ever amid the washed leaves. September 21, 1859
And now at last I see a few toadstools, — the election-cake (the yellowish, glazed over) and the taller, brighter-yellow above. Those shell-less slugs which eat apples eat these also. September 21, 1859
And now at last I see a few toadstools, — the election-cake (the yellowish, glazed over) and the taller, brighter-yellow above. Those shell-less slugs which eat apples eat these also. September 21, 1859
The apples are quite mellow and of a very agreeable flavor, though they have a rusty-scraperish look, and I fill my pockets with them. September 21, 1852
The Lentago berries appear to drop off before, or as soon as, they turn. There are few left on the bushes. Many that I bring home will turn in a single night. September 21, 1852
Heard in the night a snapping sound . . . produced by the witch-hazel nuts on my desk springing open and casting their seeds quite across the chamber, hard and stony as these nuts are. September 21, 1859
For several days they are shooting their shining black seeds about my chamber. September 21, 1859
I suspect that it is not when the witch-hazel nut first gapes open that the seeds fly out, for I see many (if not most of them) open first with the seeds in them; but when I release a seed (it being still held by its base), it flies as I have said. September 21, 1859
I suspect that it is not when the witch-hazel nut first gapes open that the seeds fly out, for I see many (if not most of them) open first with the seeds in them; but when I release a seed (it being still held by its base), it flies as I have said. September 21, 1859
I think that its slippery base is compressed by the unyielding shell, which at length expels it, just as I can make one fly by pressing it and letting it slip from between my thumb and finger. September 21, 1859
The pods of the broom are nearly half of them open. September 21, 1860
Asclepias Cornuti discounting. The seeded parachutes which I release soon come to earth, but probably if they waited for a stronger wind to release them they would be carried far. September 21, 1856
The Asclepias obtusifolia is turned yellow. I see its often perfectly upright slender pod five inches long. It soon bursts in my chamber and shows its beautiful straw-colored lining. September 21, 1856
A fairy-like casket, shaped like a canoe, with its closely packed imbricated brown seeds, with their yet compressed silvery parachutes like finest unsoiled silk in the right position above them, ready to be wafted some dry and breezy day to their destined places. September 21, 1856
Those [seeds]the wind takes are less generally the food of birds and quadrupeds than the heavier and wingless seeds .September 21, 1860
I hear many jays since the frosts began. September 21, 1854
Jays are more frequently heard of late, maybe because other birds are more silent. September 21, 1859
The nuthatch is common in woods and on street. September 21, 1854
Hear the chewink and the cluck of the thrasher. September 21, 1854
I hear of late faint chewink notes in the shrubbery, as if they were meditating their strains in a subdued tone against another year. September 21, 1856
Saw robins in flocks going south. September 21, 1853
The farmers on all sides are digging their potatoes, so prone to their work that they do not see me going across lots. September 21, 1859
I hear of late faint chewink notes in the shrubbery, as if they were meditating their strains in a subdued tone against another year. September 21, 1856
Saw robins in flocks going south. September 21, 1853
The farmers on all sides are digging their potatoes, so prone to their work that they do not see me going across lots. September 21, 1859
I have within a week found in Concord two of the new plants I found up-country. Such is the advantage of going abroad, — to enable [you] to detect your own plants. I detected them first abroad, because there I was looking for the strange. September 21, 1856
It is a warm and very hazy day, with wreaths of mist in horizon. September 21, 1856
We are having our dog-days now and of late, methinks, having had none to speak of in August. September 21, 1859
Hard rain last night. River rising again. September 21, 1860
Moonlight is peculiarly favorable to reflection . . . is not the poet who walks by night conscious of a tide in his thought which is to be referred to lunar influence, in which the ocean within him overflows its shores and bathes the dry land? September 21, 1851
September 21, 2019
*****
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Viburnum lentago (nannyberry)
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Shrub Oak
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The White Pines
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Witch-Hazel
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau: The Fringed Gentian
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Milkweed
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Aster Tradescanti
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Autumnal Dandelion
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Musquash
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Brown Thrasher
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Nuthatch
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Blue Jay
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Bees
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Yellow Butterflies
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, September
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The world can never be more beautiful than now.
.
*****
August 20, 1857 ("The Goodyera repens grows behind the spring where I used to sit, amid the dead pine leaves")
August 27, 1856 (“Goodyera pubescens, rattlesnake-plantain, is apparently a little past its prime. It is very abundant on Clintonia Swamp hillside.”)
August 29, 1854 ("I enjoy the warmth of the sun now that the air is cool, and Nature seems really more genial.")
September 2, 1856 and note ("It commonly chances that I make my most interesting botanical discoveries when I am in a thrilled and expectant mood . . . I am prepared for strange things.")
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, 1860 ("Very heavy rain to-day (equinoctial), raising the river suddenly.")
September 13, 1856 ("Surprised at the profusion of autumnal dandelions in their prime on the top of the hill")
September 14, 1852 ("This morning the first frost")
September 14, 1856 ("To Hubbard's Close. Fringed gentian well out . . .though there was none to be seen here August 27th. ")
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 18, 1854 ("I see the potatoes all black with frosts that have occurred within a night or two in Moore’s Swamp.")
September 18, 1858 ("It is a wonderful day.")September 18, 1859 ("The double-fruited [witch hazel] stone splits and reveals the two shining black oblong seeds. It has a peculiarly formed nut, in pretty clusters, clothed, as it were, in close-fitting buckskin.")
September 18, 1860 ("This is a beautiful day, warm but not too warm, a harvest day . . ."If you are not happy to-day you will hardly be so to-morrow.”)
September 18, 1860 ("Corn-stalk-tops are stacked about the fields; potatoes are being dug; smokes are seen in the horizon. It is the season of agricultural fairs.")
September 19, 1858 ("Hear a chewink’s chewink. But how ineffectual is the note of a bird now! We hear it as if we heard it not, and forget it immediately.")
September 19, 1859 ("See many yellow butterflies in the road this very pleasant day after the rain of yesterday.")
September 20, 1851 ("White pines on Fair Haven Hill begin to look parti-colored.")
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 20, 1857 ("This is our first fall rain, and makes a dividing line between the summer and fall.")
September 22, 1851 ("It is a beautifully clear and bracing air, with just enough coolness, full of the memory of frosty mornings")
These bracing fine days
when frosts come to ripen the
year, the days, like fruit.
September 22, 1854 ("By moonlight all is simple . . . We are no longer distracted. It is simple as bread and water.")
September 22, 1855("Some of my driftwood — floating rails, etc. — are scented with muskrats; have been their perches; and also covered with a thick clear slime or jelly.")
September 22, 1859 ("I see the fall dandelions all closed in the rain this afternoon. Do they, then, open only in fair or cloudy forenoons and cloudy afternoons?")
September 22, 1855("Some of my driftwood — floating rails, etc. — are scented with muskrats; have been their perches; and also covered with a thick clear slime or jelly.")
September 22, 1859 ("I see the fall dandelions all closed in the rain this afternoon. Do they, then, open only in fair or cloudy forenoons and cloudy afternoons?")
The summer concludes
with the crisis of first frosts.
The end of berries.
September 26, 1858 ("Another smart frost, making dry walking amid the stiffened grass in the morning. ")September 27, 1858 ("The farmers digging potatoes on shore pause a moment to watch my sail and bending mast.")
September 28, 1860 ("This morning we had a very severe frost, the first to kill our vines, etc., in garden; what you may call a black frost, - making things look black. Also ice under pump.")
October 2, 1853 ("The gentian in Hubbard's Close is frost-bitten extensively.")
October 2, 1857 ("The fringed gentian at Hubbard's Close has been out some time, and most of it already withered")
October 2, 1859 ("Nowadays I see most of the election-cake fungi, with crickets and slugs eating them")
October 4, 1858 ("See crickets eating the election-cake toadstools.")
October 8, 1856 ("S. casia, much the worse for the wear, but freshest of any [goldenrod] seen.")
October 10, 1858 ("I find the under sides of the election-cake fungi there covered with pink-colored fleas")
October 16, 1859 (" I see the new musquash-houses erected, conspicuous on the now nearly leafless shores. . . .an important and suggestive sight, . . . 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 rising above the withered pontederia and flags.")
October 17, 1856 ("Many fringed gentians quite fresh yet, though most are faded and withered. I suspect that their very early and sudden fading and withering has nothing, or little, to do with frost after all, for why should so many fresh ones succeed still? My pressed ones have all faded in like manner! !")
October 19, 1852 ("I found the fringed gentian now some what stale and touched by frost,")
October 20, 1856 (“I notice, as elsewhere of late, a great many brownish-yellow (and some pink) election-cake fungi, eaten by crickets; about three inches in diameter.")
October 27, 1855 ("There are many fringed gentians, now considerably frost-bitten")
November 4, 1858 ("We cannot see any thing until we are possessed with the idea of it, and then we can hardly see anything else.")
The Succession of Forest Trees ("It remains, then, only to show how the seed is transported from where it grows to where it is planted. This is done chiefly by the agency of the wind, water, and animals. The lighter seeds, as those of pines and maples, are transported chiefly by wind and water; the heavier, as acorns and nuts, by animals.")
October 2, 1853 ("The gentian in Hubbard's Close is frost-bitten extensively.")
October 2, 1857 ("The fringed gentian at Hubbard's Close has been out some time, and most of it already withered")
October 2, 1859 ("Nowadays I see most of the election-cake fungi, with crickets and slugs eating them")
October 4, 1858 ("See crickets eating the election-cake toadstools.")
October 8, 1856 ("S. casia, much the worse for the wear, but freshest of any [goldenrod] seen.")
October 10, 1858 ("I find the under sides of the election-cake fungi there covered with pink-colored fleas")
October 16, 1859 (" I see the new musquash-houses erected, conspicuous on the now nearly leafless shores. . . .an important and suggestive sight, . . . 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 rising above the withered pontederia and flags.")
October 17, 1856 ("Many fringed gentians quite fresh yet, though most are faded and withered. I suspect that their very early and sudden fading and withering has nothing, or little, to do with frost after all, for why should so many fresh ones succeed still? My pressed ones have all faded in like manner! !")
October 19, 1852 ("I found the fringed gentian now some what stale and touched by frost,")
October 20, 1856 (“I notice, as elsewhere of late, a great many brownish-yellow (and some pink) election-cake fungi, eaten by crickets; about three inches in diameter.")
October 27, 1855 ("There are many fringed gentians, now considerably frost-bitten")
November 4, 1858 ("We cannot see any thing until we are possessed with the idea of it, and then we can hardly see anything else.")
The Succession of Forest Trees ("It remains, then, only to show how the seed is transported from where it grows to where it is planted. This is done chiefly by the agency of the wind, water, and animals. The lighter seeds, as those of pines and maples, are transported chiefly by wind and water; the heavier, as acorns and nuts, by animals.")
September 21, 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.
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, September 21
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/HDT21September
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