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 distant river
reflects the light at this hour
like molten silver.
June 16, 2019
There seems to have intervened no night. The heat of the day is unabated. You perspire before sunrise. June 16, 1852
The melting heat begins again as soon as the sun gets up. June 16, 1852
Before 4 A.M., or sunrise, the sound of chip-birds and robins and bluebirds, etc., fills the air and is incessant. June 16, 1853.
4.30 a. m. — A low fog on the meadows, but not so much as last night, — a low incense frosting them. June 16, 1852
My shoes are covered with the reddish seeds of the grass, for I have been walking in the dew. June 16, 1852
My shoes are covered with the reddish seeds of the grass, for I have been walking in the dew. June 16, 1852
The clouds scattered wisps in the sky, like a squadron thrown into disorder at the approach of the sun. June 16, 1852
The sun now gilds an eastern cloud a broad, bright, coppery-golden edge, fiery bright. June 16, 1852
Protuberances of the cloud cast dark shadows ray-like up into the day. June 16, 1852
A new season. The earth looks like a debauchee after the sultry night. June 16, 1852
There is music in every sound in the morning atmosphere. June 16, 1852
The river appears covered with an almost imperceptible blue film. What wealth in a stagnant river! June 16, 1852
The sun is not yet over the bank. June 16, 1852
At sunrise a slight mist curls along the surface of the water. When the sun falls on it, it looks like a red dust. June 16, 1853
From top of the hill, the sun, just above the horizon, red and shorn of beams, is somewhat pear-shaped; and then it becomes a broad ellipse, the lower half a dun red. June 16, 1853
It appears as if it rose in the northeast, - over Ball's Hill at any rate. June 16, 1853
The distant river is like molten silver at this hour; it merely reflects the light, not the blue. June 16, 1853
As the sun went down last night, round and red in a damp misty atmosphere, so now it rises in the same manner, though there is no dense fog. June 16, 1854
Once or twice the sun has gone down red, shorn of his beams. June 16, 1854
Three days in succession, — the 13th, 14th, and 15th, — thunder-clouds, with thunder and lightning, have risen high in the east, threatening instant rain, and yet each time it has failed to reach us. June 16, 1854
Thus it is almost invariably, methinks, with thunder-clouds which rise in the east; they do not reach us. June 16, 1854
Thunder-showers show themselves about 2 P.M. in the west, but split at sight of Concord and go east on each side, we getting only a slight shower. June 16, 1860
There have been showers all around us, but nothing to mention here yet. June 16, 1854
The warmer, or at least drier, weather has now prevailed about a fortnight. June 16, 1854
Paddle from the ash tree to the swimming-place. June 16, 1852
The further shore is crowded with polygonums (leaves) and pontederia leaves. June 16, 1852
It is pleasant to paddle over the meadows now, at this time of flood, and look down on the various meadow plants, for you can see more distinctly quite to the bottom than ever. June 16, 1858
A few sedges are very common and prominent, one, the tallest and earliest, now gone and going to seed, which I do not make out, also the Carex scoparia and the C. stellulata. June 16, 1858
Paddle to Great Meadows. June 16, 1859
What is the devil's-needle about? He hovers about a foot above the pads on humming wings thus early, from time to time darting one side as if in pursuit of some invisible prey. June 16, 1852. See
I hear a stake-driver, like a man at his pump, which sucks, — fit sound for our sluggish river. June 16, 1852.
Most would suppose the stake-driver the sound of a farmer at a distance at his pump, watering his cattle. June 16, 1852
It oftener sounds like this than like a stake, but some times exactly like a man driving a stake in the meadow. June 16, 1852
Mistook a crow blackbird, on a dark-brown rock rising out of the water, for a crow or a bittern, referring it to a greater distance than the actual, by some mirage. June 16, 1852
Small snapdragon, how long? June 16, 1859
Examined a kingfisher's nest, . . . located just like a swallow's, in a sand-bank, some twenty inches below the surface. Could feel nothing in it, but it may have been removed. Have an egg from this. June 16, 1859
Walked into the Great Meadows from the angle on the west side of the Holt, in order to see what were the prevailing sedges, etc. June 16, 1859
On the dry and hard bank by the river, grows June-grass, etc., Carex scoparia, stellulata, stricta, and Buxbaumii; in the wet parts, pipes two and a half feet high, C. lanuginosa, C. bullata(?), [C] monile, Eleocharis palustris, Panicum virgatum (a little just begins to show itself), and Glyceria fluitans here and there and out. June 16, 1859
There was a noble sea of pipes, — you may say pipes exclusively, — a rich dark green, quite distinct from the rest of the meadow and visible afar, a broad stream of this valuable grass growing densely, two and a half feet high in water. June 16, 1859
Next to this, south, where it was quite as wet, or wetter, grew the tall and slender C. lanuginosa, the prevailing sedge in the wetter parts where I walked. June 16, 1859
This was a sheeny glaucous green, bounding the pipes on each side, of a dry look. June 16, 1859
Next in abundance in the wet parts were the inflated sedges above named. June 16, 1859
Those pipes, in such a mass, are, me-thinks, the richest mass of uniform dark liquid green now to be seen on the surface of the town [?]. June 16, 1859
You might call this meadow the "Green Sea.” June 16, 1859
Phalaris Americana, Canary grass, just out. The island by Hunt's Bridge is densely covered with . June 16, 1859
Saw, in the midst of the Great Meadows, the trails or canals of the musquash running an indefinite distance, now open canals full of water. June 16, 1859.
The head of every sedge that now rises above the surface is swarming with insects which have taken refuge from the flood on it, — beetles, grasshoppers, spiders, caterpillars, etc. How many must have been destroyed! June 16, 1858
No doubt thousands of birds' nests have been destroyed by the flood, – blackbirds', bobolinks', song sparrows', etc. June 16, 1858
I see a robin's nest high above the water with the young just dead and the old bird in the water, apparently killed by the abundance of rain, and afterward I see a fresh song sparrow's nest which has been flooded and destroyed. June 16, 1858
Carrion-flower, how long? Not long. June 16, 1858
How agreeable and wholesome the fragrance of the low blackberry blossom, reminding me of all the rosaceous fruit bearing plants, so near and dear to our humanity. June 16, 1858
June 16, 2013
It is one of the most deliciously fragrant flowers, reminding of wholesome fruits. June 16, 1858
Two sternothaerus which I smell of have no scent to-day. June 16, 1858.
Two sternothaerus which I smell of have no scent to-day. June 16, 1858.
I see a yellow-spotted turtle digging its hole at midafternoon, 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 16, 1858.
Some turtles must lay in pretty low fields, or else make a much longer excursion than I think they do, the water in which they dwell is so far from high land. June 16, 1858
A painted tortoise just burying three flesh-colored eggs in the dry, sandy plain near the thrasher’s nest. It leaves no trace on the surface. June 16, 1855.
Find near by four more about this business. When seen they stop stock still in whatever position, and stir not nor make any noise, just as their shells may happen to be tilted up. June 16, 1855
Among the geraniums which now spot the wood or sprout-land paths, I see some with very broad, short, rounded petals, making a smaller but full round flower. June 16, 1858
The Salix nigra appears to be quite done. June 16, 1858.
Edward Emerson, Edward Bartlett, and Storrow Higginson come to ask me the names of some eggs to-night. . . .They tell of a hen-hawk's nest seen the 6th, with two eggs. June 16, 1858.
Edward Bartlett brings me a crow's nest, one of several which he found in maple trees, twenty or thirty feet from ground, in a swamp near Copan, and in this he found an addled egg. June 16, 1858. .
The mass of twigs which was its foundation were too loose and bulky to be brought away, — half a wheelbarrow-load, at least, chiefly maple, eighteen inches long and a quarter of an inch wide. June 16, 1858
From time to time, summer and winter and far inland, I call to mind that peculiar prolonged cry of the upland plover on the bare heaths of Truro in July, heard from sea to sea, though you cannot guess how far the bird may be, as if it were a characteristic sound of the Cape. June 16, 1855
The piping plover, as it runs half invisible on the sand before you, utters a shrill peep on an elevated key (different birds on different keys), as if to indicate its locality from time to time to its kind, or it utters a succession of short notes as it flies low over the sand or water. June 16, 1855
Ever and anon stands still tremblingly, or teeter-ingly, wagtail-like, turning this way and that. June 16, 1855
The cherry-bird’s egg was a satin color, or very pale slate, with an internal or what would be called black-and-blue ring about large end. June 16, 1855.
A sparrow’s nest with four gray eggs in bank beyond ivy tree. June 16, 1855
Four catbirds half fledged in the green-briar near bathing-place, hung three feet from ground. June 16, 1855
Examined a kingbird’s nest found before (13th) in a black willow over edge of river, four feet from ground. Two eggs. West of oak in Hubbard’s meadow. June 16, 1855.
Channing found a marsh hawk's nest on the Great Meadows this afternoon, with three eggs considerably developed. June 16, 1860.
See young and weak striped squirrels nowadays, with slender tails, asleep on horizontal boughs above their holes, or moving feebly about; might catch them. June 16, 1855
Redstarts in the swamp there. June 16, 1855.
Also see there a blue yellow-green-backed warbler, with an orange breast and throat, white belly and vent, and forked tail— indigo-blue head, etc. June 16, 1855.
Thrasher and catbird sing still; summer yellowbird and Maryland yellow-throat sing still; and oven-bird and veery. June 16, 1854.
Heard around, from within the Purgatory, not only Wilson’s thrush, but evergreen forest note and tanager. June 16, 1856
Found at the very bottom of this Purgatory, where it was dark and damp, on the steep moss and fern covered side of a rock which had fallen into it, a wood thrush’s nest. Scarcely a doubt of the bird, though I saw not its breast fairly. Heard the note around, and the eggs (one of which I have) correspond. Nest of fine moss from the rock (hypnum ?), and lined with pine-needles; three eggs, fresh. June 16, 1856
Panicled cornel well out on Heywood Peak. June 16, 1854
Ground-nut, how long? June 16, 1855
It is eight days since I plucked the great orchis; one is perfectly fresh still in my pitcher. June 16, 1854.
It may be plucked when the spike is only half opened, and will open completely and keep perfectly fresh in a pitcher more than a week. June 16, 1854
Do I not live in a garden, — in paradise? I can go out each morning before breakfast — I do — and gather these flowers with which to perfume my chamber where I read and write, all day. June 16, 1854.
The curled dock (Rumex crispus) and the Malva, the cheese mallows. June 16, 1852
The white lily is budded. June 16, 1852
I have heard no hylodes since the 12th, and no purring frogs (Rana palusiris). June 16, 1860.
Think they ceased about the same time, or with the 85° heat. June 16, 1860
The fisherman offers you mackerel this sultry weather. June 16, 1852
By and by the bidens (marigold) will stand in the river, as now the ranunculus. The summer's fervor will have sunk into it. June 16, 1852
The spring yellows are faint, cool, innocent as the saffron of the morning compared with the blaze of noon. June 16, 1852
The autumnal, methinks, are the fruit of the dog-days, heats of manhood or age, not of youth. June 16, 1852
The former are pure, transparent, crystalline, viz. [sic] the willow catkins and the early cinque-foils. June 16, 1852
This ranunculus, too, standing two or three inches above the water, is of a light yellow, especially at a distance. June 16, 1852
The yellow water ranunculus still yellows the river in the middle, where shallow, in beds many rods long. It is one of the capillary-leaved plants. June 16, 1852
The Lysimachia thyrsiflora, tufted loose strife, by the Depot Field Brook. June 16, 1852
The floating pondweed (Potamogeton natans), with the oblong oval leaf floating on the surface, now in bloom. June 16, 1852
The Viola pedata and the columbines last into June, but now they are scarce. June 16, 1852.
Already leaves are eaten by insects. June 16, 1852
I see their excrement in the path; even the pads on the river have many holes in them. June 16, 1852
It has been quite breezy, even windy, this month. June 16, 1852
The new foliage has rustled. June 16, 1852
There is a cool east wind, — and has been afternoons for several days, — which has produced a very thick haze or a fog. June 16, 1854
There is a fine ripple and sparkle on the pond, seen through the mist. June 16, 1854
Birds sing at this hour as in the spring. June 16, 1852
No toads now. June 16, 1852
You hear that spitting, dumping frog and the bullfrogs occasionally still, for the heat is scarcely less than the last night. June 16, 1852
The bullfrogs boom still. June 16, 1852
The bullfrogs lie on the very surface of the pads, showing their great yellow throats, color of the yellow breeches of the old school, and protuberant eyes. June 16, 1852
His whole back out, revealing a vast expanse of belly. June 16, 1852
His eyes like ranunculus or yellow lily buds, winking from time to time and showing his large dark-bordered tympanum. June 16, 1852
Imperturbable-looking. His yellow throat swells up like a small moon at a distance over the pads when he croaks. June 16, 1852
At 2 P.M. 85°, and about same for several days past. June 16, 1860
It appears to me that these phenomena occur simultaneously, say June 12th, viz.: -
• Heat about. 85° at 2 P.M.
• Hylodes cease to peep.
• Purring frogs (Rana palustris) cease.
• Lightning-bugs first seen.
• Bullfrogs trump generally.
• Mosquitoes begin to be really troublesome.
• Afternoon thunder-showers almost regular.
• Sleep with open window.
• Turtles fairly and generally begun to lay.
June 16, 1860
The sonorous note of bullfrogs is heard a mile off in the river, the loudest sound this evening. June 16, 1852
Ever and anon the sound of his trombone comes over the meadows and fields, a-lulling all Concord to sleep. June 16, 1852
The distant river is like molten silver at this hour; it merely reflects the light, not the blue. June 16, 1853
As I look up over the bay, I see the reflections of the meadow woods and the Hosmer hill at a distance, the tops of the trees cut off by a slight ripple. June 16, 1852
Even the fine grasses on the near bank are distinctly reflected. June 16, 1852
Owing to the reflections of the distant woods and hills, you seem to be paddling into a vast hollow country, doubly novel and interesting. June 16, 1852
Thus the voyageur is lured onward to fresh pastures. June 16, 1852
We walk to lakes to see our serenity reflected in them. When we are not serene, we go not to them. June 16, 1854
A flute from some villager. How rare among men so fit a thing as the sound of a flute at evening! June 16, 1852
9 P.. M. — Down railroad. Heat lightning in the horizon. June 16, 1852
The meadows full of lightning-bugs to-night; first seen the 14th. June 16, 1860
Have not the fireflies in the meadow relation to the stars above etincelant? June 16, 1852
When the darkness comes, we see stars beneath also. June 16, 1852
Do not the stars, too, show their light for love, like the fireflies? June 16, 1852
There are northern lights, shooting high up withal. June 16, 1852
*****
June 16, 2021
See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau:
The world can never be more beautiful than now
June 15, 1852 ("The oven-bird, chewink, pine warbler (?), thrasher, swallows on the wire, cuckoo, phoebe, red eye, robin, veery. ")
June 15, 1852 ("Here also, at Well Meadow Head, I see the fringed purple orchis, unexpectedly beautiful, though a pale lilac purple, — a large spike of purple flowers. . . . The most striking and handsome large wild-flower of the year thus far that I have seen ")
June 15, 1852 ("The meadows sparkle with the coppery light of fireflies .")
June 15, 1854 ("5.30 a. m. — A young painted tortoise on the surface of the water, as big as a quarter of a dollar, with a reddish or orange sternum . . . Saw a wood tortoise, about two inches and a half, with a black sternum and the skin, which becomes orange, now ochreous merely, or brown. The little painted tortoise of the morning was red beneath. Both these young tortoises have a distinct dorsal ridge")
June 15, 1855 ("In the swamp a catbird’s nest in the darkest and thickest part, in a high blueberry, five feet from ground, two eggs; bird comes within three feet while I am looking.")
June 15, 1857 ("From time to time passed a yellow-spot or a painted turtle in the path, for now is their laying-season . . . Now the tortoises are met with in sandy woods and, delaying, are run over in the ruts.")
June 15, 1860 ("The bullfrogs now commonly trump at night, and the mosquitoes are now really troublesome. For some time I have not heard toads by day, and the hylodes appear to have done. . . . A new season begun")
June 17, 1852 ("In the damp, warm evening after the rain, the fireflies appear to be more numerous than ever.")
June 17, 1852("The birds sing well this morning, well as ever. The brown thrasher drowns the rest. Lark first, and, in the woods, the red-eye, veery, chewink, oven-bird, wood thrush")
June 17, 1858 (" See a painted turtle digging at mid-afternoon. I have only to look at dry fields or banks near water to find the turtles laying there afternoons.")
June 18, 1852 ("I hear a man playing a clarionet far off. . . . What a contrast this evening melody with the occupations of the day! It is perhaps the most admirable accomplishment of man")
*****
June 16, 2020
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, June 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 © 2009-2023
https://tinyurl.com/HDT16June
No comments:
Post a Comment