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
The first snow falling.
Large flakes begin to whiten
our thoughts for winter.
How the leaves come down
in showers when morning wind
rises after frost . . .
suddenly they form
thick beds just the size and form
of the tree above.
Large fleets of leaves
floating on the calm water
full of reflections.
October 15, 2022
The ten days — at least — before this were plainly Indian summer. They were remarkably pleasant and warm. October 15,1857
Rain at last, and end of the remarkable days. October 15,1857
Last night the first smart frost that I have witnessed. Ice formed under the pump, and the ground was white long after sunrise. October 15, 1853
A smart frost, which even injured plants in house. Ground stiffened in morning; ice seen. October 15, 1856
And now, when the morning wind rises, how the leaves come down in showers after this touch of the frost! They suddenly form thick beds or carpets on the ground in this gentle air, — or without wind, — just the size and form of the tree above. October 15, 1853
There has been a great fall of leaves in the night on account of this moist and rainy weather. October 15, 1857
Many tortoises are still out in the sun. October 15, 1856
The water is very calm and full of reflections. Large fleets of maple and other leaves are floating on its surface as I go up the Assabet, leaves which apparently came down in a shower with yesterday morning's frost. October 15, 1856
Every motion of the turtles is betrayed by their rustling now. October 15, 1856
Up the river in a boat to Pelham's Pond . . .Rowed about twenty-four miles, going and coming. In a straight line it would be fifteen and one half. October 15, 1851
There is quite a wind, and the sky is full of flitting clouds, so that sky and water are quite unlike that warm, bright, transparent day when I last sailed on the river. October 15, 1851
When the sun shines brightest to-day, its pyramidal-shaped sheen . . . is dazzling and blinding. October 15, 1851
It is pleasant to hear the sound of the waves and feel the surging of the boat, . . . to be tossed about in such a harmless storm, and see the waves look so angry and black. October 15, 1851
When the sun shines brightest to-day, its pyramidal-shaped sheen . . . is dazzling and blinding. October 15, 1851
It is pleasant to hear the sound of the waves and feel the surging of the boat, . . . to be tossed about in such a harmless storm, and see the waves look so angry and black. October 15, 1851
The hornets’ nests are exposed, the maples being bare, but the hornets are gone. October 15, 1855
The colors of the oaks are far more distinct now than they were before. October 15, 1858
Standing here, you see far in the horizon the red regiments of oaks alternately lit up by the sun and dimmed by the passing shadow of a cloud. October 15, 1859
White birches, though they have lost many leaves, are still, perhaps, as soft a yellow as ever, a fine yellow imbrication seen against the greener forest October 15, 1858
The yellow birches are bare, revealing the fruit (the short, thick brown catkins) now ripe and ready to scale off. How full the trees are! About as thick as the leaves were. October 15, 1859
Some elms and butternuts are quite bare. October 15,1857
The black willow almost completely bare; many quite so. It loses its leaves about same time with the maples. October 15, 1856
I see a few red maples still bright . October 15, 1858
Large rock maples are now perhaps in their prime,— later than I supposed. October 15, 1858
The sugar maples in our streets are now in their prime and show unexpectedly bright and delicate tints, while some white maples by the river are nearly bare.October 15,1857
Small hickories are the clearest and most delicate yellow in the shade of the woods. October 15, 1858
The hickories at Poplar Hill (and elsewhere, as far as I perceive) are all past prime now and most half-withered or bare, very different from last year . . . This is a cold fall. October 15, 1859
White pines are in the midst of their fall. October 15, 1858
Go to look for white pine cones, but see none. October 15, 1855
A great part of the hemlock seeds fallen. October 15, 1856
I see some black oak acorns on the trees still and in some places at least half the shrub oak acorns. The last are handsomer now that they have turned so much darker. October 15, 1859
The chickadees are hopping near on the hemlock above. They resume their winter ways before the winter comes. October 15, 1856
The chickadees sing as if at home. They are not travelling singers hired by any Barnum. Theirs is an honest, homely, heartfelt melody. Shall not the voice of man express as much content as the note of a bird? October 15, 1859
See a Fringilla hyemalis. October 15, 1859
I think I see myrtle-birds on white birches, and that they are the birds I saw on them a week or two ago, — apparently, or probably, after the birch lice. ; October 15, 1859
Cinnamon ferns in Clintonia Swamp are fast losing their leafets. October 15, 1858
The large ferns are now rapidly losing their leaves except the terminal tuft. October 15, 1856
Other species about the edges of swamps were turned suddenly dark cinnamon-color by the frost of yesterday. October 15, 1856
An abundance of checkerberries by the hemlock at V. Muhlenbergii Brook. A remarkable year for berries. October 15, 1856
The little leaves of the mitchella, with a whitish midrib and veins, lying generally flat on the mossy ground, perhaps about the base of a tree, with their bright-scarlet twin berries sprinkled over them, may properly be said to checker the ground. Now, particularly, they are noticed amid the fallen leaves. October 15, 1859
The river is still quite low. October 15, 1851
The grayish-whitish mikania, all fuzzy, covers the endless button-bushes, which are now bare of leaves. October 15, 1851
See a striped squirrel on a rail fence with some kind of weed in his mouth. Is it milkweed seed? At length he scuds swiftly along the middle rail past me, and, instead of running over or around the posts, he glides through the little hole in the post left above the rails, as swiftly as if there had been no post in the way. Thus he sped through five posts in succession in a straight line, incredibly quick, only stooping and straightening himself at the holes. October 15, 1855
The muskrat-houses appear now for the most part to be finished. Some, it is true, are still rising. They line the river all the way. Some are as big as small hay cocks. October 15, 1851
We row across Fair Haven in the thickening twilight and far below it, steadily and with out speaking. October 15, 1851
As the night draws on her veil, the shores retreat; we only keep in the middle of this low stream of light; we know not whether we float in the air or in the lower regions. October 15, 1851
The reflections of the stars in the water are dim and elongated like the zodiacal light straight down into the depths,October 15, 1851
It is pleasant not to get home till after dark, October 15, 1851
The first snow is falling in large flakes, filling the air and obscuring the distant woods and houses, as if the inhabitants above were emptying their pillow-cases. The ground begins to whiten, and our thoughts begin to prepare for winter. October 15, 1852
October 15, 2019
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, October Moods
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau. Wasps and Hornets
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Milkweed.
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Cinnamon Fern
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Partridge-berry (Mitchella Repens)
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The White Pines
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Shrub Oak
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau. The Hickory
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Red Maple
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau the Yellow Birch
A Book of the Seasons by Henry Thoreau, the Dark-eyed Junco (Fringilla hyemalis)
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Myrtle-bird
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Striped Squirrel
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, October
September 14, 1854 ("To opposite Pelham’s Pond by boat. . . We went up thirteen or fourteen miles at least.")
October 10, 1856 (“”These are the finest days in the year, Indian summer") October 11, 1851 ("The chickadee, sounding all alone, now that birds are getting scarce,reminds me of the winter, in which it almost alone is heard.”)October 11, 1857 ("This is the seventh day of glorious weather.")October 13, 1860 ("Now, as soon as the frost strips the maples, and their leaves strew the swamp floor and conceal the pools, the note of the chickadee sounds cheerfully winterish.”)
October 14, 1856 (“Pine-needles, just fallen, now make a thick carpet”);
October 14, 1857 ("On the causeway I pass by maples here and there which are bare and smoke-like, having lost their brilliant clothing; but there it lies, nearly as bright as ever, on one side on the ground, making nearly as regular a figure as lately on the tree. I should rather say that I first observed the trees thus flat on the ground like a permanent colored and substantial shadow, and they alone suggested to look for the trees that had borne them.")
The colors of the
oaks are far more distinct now
than they were before.
October 16, 1854 (“The pines, too, have fallen.”)
October 16, 1855 (“How evenly the freshly fallen pine-needles are spread on the ground!”)
October 16, 1856 (“Ground all white with frost. ”)
October 16,1857 (“A great part of the pine-needles have just fallen.”)
October 16,1857 (“A great part of the pine-needles have just fallen.”)
October 17, 1856 (" I heard a smart tche-day-day-day close to my ear, and, looking up, see four of these birds, which had come to scrape acquaintance with me, hopping amid the alders within three and four feet of me. I had heard them further off at first, and they had followed me along the hedge. They day-day 'd and lisp their faint notes alternately, and then, as if to make me think they had some other errand than to peer at me, they peck the dead twigs with their bills — the little top-heavy, black-crowned, volatile fellows.")
October 17, 1857 ("The cinnamon ferns surrounding the swamp have just lost their leafets, except the terminal ones.")
October 22,1854 (“Pretty hard frosts these nights. Many leaves fell last night, and the Assabet is covered with their fleets.”)
October 22, 1858 ("Hornets’ nests are now being exposed, deserted by the hornets")
October 27, 1851 ("This morning I wake and find it snowing and the ground covered with snow, quite unexpectedly, . . . The birds fly about as if seeking shelter. The cold numbs my fingers. Winter, with its inwardness, is upon us. A man is constrained to sit down, and to think.")
October 17, 1857 ("The cinnamon ferns surrounding the swamp have just lost their leafets, except the terminal ones.")
October 22,1854 (“Pretty hard frosts these nights. Many leaves fell last night, and the Assabet is covered with their fleets.”)
October 22, 1858 ("Hornets’ nests are now being exposed, deserted by the hornets")
October 27, 1851 ("This morning I wake and find it snowing and the ground covered with snow, quite unexpectedly, . . . The birds fly about as if seeking shelter. The cold numbs my fingers. Winter, with its inwardness, is upon us. A man is constrained to sit down, and to think.")
October 15, 2022
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 14 <<<<<<<<< October 15 >>>>>>>> October 16
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, October 15
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/HDTOct15
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