Saturday, October 8, 2022

A Book of the Seasons: October 8 (acorns, pine seed, milkweed, twittering sparrows, autumnal tints, a loon and a full moon)


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 


Trees and weeds alive
this plesant afternoon with
twittering sparrows.

Maples by the shore
extending their red banners
over the water.

The sun setting red
in haze at the same time as
the full moon rises.
October 8, 1851

October 8, 2014


Found my boat yesterday full of willow leaves after the rain.  October 8, 1855

The nights have been cool of late, so that a fire has been comfortable, but the last was quite warm. October 8, 1851

Strong northwest wind.  October 8, 1858 

A slight wind now fills the air with elm leaves. October 8, 1851

The milkweed seeds must be carried far, for it is only when a strong wind is blowing that they are loosened from their pods. October 8, 1851 

Find a bird's nest converted into a mouse's nest in the prinos swamp, while surveying on the new Bedford road to-day, topped over with moss, and a hole on one side, like a squirrel-nest.  October 8, 1853

Find a great many white oak acorns already sprouted, although they are but half fallen, and can easily believe that they sometimes sprout before they fall. It is a good year for them. October 8, 1860 

Filled my pockets with acorns. October 8, 1851
 
Find many checker-berries on Smith's hill beyond the chestnut grove, which appear to be just ripe, a lighter pink color, with two little white checks on the stem side, the marks of what I suppose are the two outer calyx-leaves. October 8, 1856 

At length I discover some white pine cones, a few, on Emerson Heater Piece trees. They are all open, and the seeds, all the sound ones but one, gone. So September is the time to gather them. October 8, 1856 

As I was paddling along the north shore, after having looked in vain over the pond for a loon, suddenly a loon, sailing toward the middle, a few rods in front, set up his wild laugh and betrayed himself.  October 8, 1852 

See no tortoises now on the rocks and boards. It is too cold. October 8, 1855

The autumnal tints about the pond are now perfect.  October 8, 1852 

Nothing can exceed the brilliancy of some of the maples which stand by the shore and extend their red banners over the water.  October 8, 1852 

The changing red maples along the river are past their prime now, earlier than generally elsewhere. October 8, 1857

The hickory leaves are among the handsomest now, varying from green through yellow.  October 8, 1856

Those white maples that were so early to change in the water have more than half lost their leaves. October 8, 1857 

Hemlock leaves are copiously falling. They cover the hillside like some wild grain. October 8, 1857 

The button-bushes and black willows are rapidly losing leaves, and the shore begins to look Novemberish. October 8, 1858 

Fine pasture grass seen in the sun, begins to.look faded and bleached like the corn October 8, 1858 

I smell the dry leaves like hay from the woods. October 8, 1851 

Some elms are already bare. 
October 8, 1851 

The basswood here is quite sere. 
October 8, 1851 

The pines are still shedding their leaves. October 8, 1851 

I notice a large toad amid the dead leaves in the woods at Chimaphila maculata, colored like the leaves, a much darker brown than usual, proving that they resemble the ground they occupy. October 8, 1856

Asters and goldenrods are now scarce; no longer that crowd along the low roadsides. October 8, 1856 

The following is the condition of the asters and goldenrods.  October 8, 1856 

  • A. corymbosus, looks fresh! . . . Of asters, only corymbosus, undulatus, Tradescanti, and longifolius . . . are common. October 8, 1856 
  • S. nemoralis, done, many hoary, though a very few flowers linger. October 8, 1856 
  • S. casia, much the worse for the wear, but freshest of any [goldenrod] seen.October 8, 1856 
  •  S. latifolia, far gone. October 8, 1856 

Fine pasture grass seen in the sun, begins to.look faded and bleached like the corn. October 8, 1858

The chipmunk, the wall-going squirrel, that will cross a broad pasture on the wall, now this side, now that, now on top, and lives under it, — as if it were a track laid for him expressly. October 8, 1857

Flocks of tree sparrows by river, slightly warbling. Hear a song sparrow sing. See apparently white-throated sparrows  hopping under covert of the button-bushes October 8, 1855 

The trees and weeds by the Turnpike are all alive this pleasant afternoon with twittering sparrows . . . I observe white-throated sparrows, song sparrows, I think some Fringilla juncorum, etc. (maybe tree sparrows ???). They are all together and keep up a faint warbling, apparently the white-throats and tree sparrows, — if the last are there. A song sparrow utters a full strain.  October 8, 1856 

I see and hear white-throated sparrows on the swamp white oaks by the river's edge, uttering a faint sharp cheep October 8, 1857

This warm day is a godsend to the wasps. I see them buzzing about the broken windows of deserted buildings, as Jenny Dugan's, -- the yellow-knotted. October 8, 1851 

The sun set red in haze . . . and the moon rose in like manner at the same time . . . The moon is full. October 8, 1851 


[Thoreau gave his lecture "Moonlight" to a small audience of friends, among them Bronson Alcott. James Spooner, Marston Watson and his wife Mary Russell Watson. on Sunday, October 8, 1854   See Thoreau's Lectures after Walden 259-255]


October 8, 2020

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, October
A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau,  Milkweed.
A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The White Pines
A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Pine Fall
A Book of the Seasons,    by Henry Thoreau. The Hickory



October 8, 2015



October 1, 1851 ("At 8 o'clock the fogs have begun, which, with the low half-moon shining on them, look like cob webs or thin white veils spread over the earth. They are the dreams or visions of the meadow.)
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 3, 1852  ("The pine fall, i.e. change, is commenced, and the trees are mottled green and yellowish.")
October 4, 1856 ("Wind from northeast. Some water milkweed flying")
October 4, 1858 (" The hickories on the northwest side of this hill are in the prime of their color, of a rich orange; some intimately mixed with green, handsomer than those that are wholly changed.")
October 7, 1852 ("It is a warm Indian-summerish afternoon. The sun comes out of clouds, and lights up and warms the whole scene. It is perfect autumn. It is the mellowing year")
October 7, 1857 ("Crossing Depot Brook, I see many yellow butterflies fluttering about the Aster puniceus, still abundantly in bloom there")
October 7, 1857 ("When I turn round half-way up Fair Haven Hill, by the orchard wall,and look northwest, I am surprised for the thousandth time at the beauty of the landscape.")
October 7, 1857 ("I see, some fifty rods off, looking toward the sun, the top of the maple swamp just appearing over the sheeny russet edge of the hill . . . the most intensely brilliant scarlet, orange, and yellow, equal to any flowers or fruits or any tints ever painted.")


October 9, 1851 ("As I return over the bridge, I hear a song sparrow singing on the willows exactly as in spring. ")
October 9, 1858 ("Cold and northwest wind still.")
October 9, 1859 ("Aster cordifolius abundant and commonly in bloom in Roxbury.")
October 11, 1856 ("The sprout-land and stubble behind the Cliffs are all alive with restless flocks of sparrows of various species. I distinguish F. hyemalis, song sparrow, apparently F. juncorum . . . and chip-bird")


October 8, 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.

October 7  <<<<<<<<<   October 8  >>>>>>>>  October 9

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 © 2009-2024


https://tinyurl.com/HDT08Oct 

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