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March. The frogs are now heard leaping into the ditches on your approach . . . I see the dimples where the croakers which were on the surface have dived . . . They are very wary, and instantly dive to the bottom on your approach . . . Later, in a pool behind Lee's Cliff, I hear them, – the waking up of the leafy pools.
The frogs are now heard
leaping into the ditches
on your approach.
HDT ~ March 30, 1858
an old pond
a frog jumps in—
sound of water
~ Basho
May. Young blueberries every where in bloom, and Viola pedata along the woodland paths, in high land. Sorrel in bloom, beginning. I am eager to taste a handful.
Viola pedata
along the woodland paths
in high land.
HDT ~ May 21, 1852
on mountain path
greeted by
a wild violet
~ Basho
June. All the phenomena of nature need be seen from the point of view of wonder and awe, like lightning; and, on the other hand, the lightning itself needs to be regarded with serenity, as the most familiar and innocent phenomena are.
Wonder awe
innocence serenity –
lightning!
HDT ~ June 27, 1852
How admirable!
to see lightning and not think
life is fleeting.
~ Basho
July. This might be called the Haymaker's Moon, for I perceive that when the day has been oppressively warm the haymakers rest at noon and resume their mowing after sunset, sometimes quite into evening.
Oppressively warm
the haymakers rest at noon –
the Haymaker's Moon.
HDT ~ July 13, 1851
All the field hands
enjoy a noontime nap after
the autumn moon
~ Basho
August. The little bees have gone to sleep amid the clethra blossoms in the rain and are not yet aroused.
The little bees sleep
amid clethra in the rain
yet are not aroused.
HDT ~ August 4, 1852
A bee
staggers out
of the peony.
~Basho
August. It is the turning-point between afternoon and evening. The few sounds now heard, far or near, are delicious. It is not more dusky and obscure, but clearer than before. Each sound has a broad and deep relief of silence.
Each sound has a broad
and deep relief of silence
clearer than before.
HDT ~ August 11, 1853
The silence–
the voice of the cicadas
penetrates the rocks.
~ Basho
October. One crow lingers on a limb of the dead oak till I am within a dozen rods. There is strong and blustering northwest wind, and when it launches off to follow its comrades it is blown up and backward still nearer to me.
One crow lingers
on a limb of the dead oak . . .
strong blustering wind.
HDT ~ October 6, 1860
On a bare branch
a solitary crow –
autumn evening
~ Basho
December. For years my appetite was so strong that I fed — I browsed — on the pine forest's edge seen against the winter horizon . . . fed my imagination on them, — far-away, ideal trees . . . the value of the forest for me [was] in that line where it was relieved against the sky.
The pine forest's edge
that far line seen against the
winter horizon.
HDT ~ December 3, 1856
Coolness
the clean lines
of the wild pine.
~ Basho
December. The dear privacy and retirement and solitude which winter makes possible! This evening for the first time the new moon is reflected from the frozen snow-crust.
Winter solitude
the new moon reflected from
the frozen snow crust.
HDT ~ December 8, 1850
Winter solitude –
in a world of one color
the sound of wind.
~Basho
A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Basho's Commentary
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 © 2026
https://tinyurl.com/hdt-Basho
