A Book of the Seasons: Yellow Bethlehem-star (Hypoxis erecta).

 For the first time I perceive this spring

that the year is a circle.  

I would make a chart of our life,

know why just this circle of creatures completes the world.

Henry Thoreau, April 18, 1852

The Hypoxis erecta, yellow Bethlehem-star,

where there is a thick, wiry grass in open path;

should be called yellow-eyed grass, methinks.

June 15, 1851

May 22. A yellow Bethlehem-star. May 22, 1853

May 28. White thorn and yellow Bethlehem-star (Hypoxis erecta). May 28, 1852

May 28. Hypoxis erecta, maybe a day or two. May 28, 1856

June 5. Yellow Bethlehem-star in prime. June 5, 1855

June 6. Yellow Bethlehem-star. June 6, 1858

June 9. There are many star flowers. I remember the anemone, especially the rue anemone, which is not yet all gone, lasting longer than the true one above all the trientalis, and of late the yellow Bethlehem-star, and perhaps others. June 9, 1853

June 15. The Hypoxis erecta, yellow Bethlehem-star, where there is a thick, wiry grass in open path; should be called yellow-eyed grass, methinks. June 15, 1851

July 31. See yellow Bethlehem-star still. July 31, 1856

August 4.  The yellow Bethlehem-star still, and the yellow gerardia, and a bluish "savory-leaved aster." August 4, 1851

August 18. Yellow Bethlehem-star yet, and indigo.  August 18, 1856

August 24. Yellow Bethlehem-star still. August 24, 1853

Hypoxis erecta or Hypoxis hirsuta,  common star-grass,

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Yellow Bethlehem-star

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 © 2009-2025

Tp Painted-Cup Meadow via Assabet Bath.

June 6. 

June 6, 2018

P. M. – Cornus florida at Island well out, say the 3d. 

I hear of linnaea out in a pitcher and probably (?) in woods. 

Go to Painted-Cup Meadow via Assabet Bath. 

See three or four Emys insculpta about, making their holes in the gravelly bank south of Assabet Bath, and a few holes which must have been made a day or two, probably by the same. 

Golden senecio is not uncommon now. 

Am surprised to find that the buck bean flowers are withered, being killed by the recent frosts. 

Yellow Bethlehem-star.

Edith Emerson has found, in the field (Merriam’s) just south of the Beck Stow pine grove, Lepidium campestre, which may have been out ten days.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal , June 6, 1858

Cornus florida at Island well out, say the 3d. See June 4, 1858 ("I find the Cornus florida out in my pitcher when I get home June 4th, though it was not out on Island May 31st, and it is well out on Island when I look June 6th. I will say, therefore, that it opened June 3d."); See also May 25, 1855 ("Cornus florida, no bloom. Was there year before last? Does it not flower every other year?”); May 22, 1856("The Cornus florida does not bloom this year.")

Golden senecio is not uncommon now. See May 23, 1853 ("I am surprised by the dark orange-yellow of the senecio. At first we had the lighter, paler spring yellows of willows, dandelion, cinquefoil, then the darker and deeper yellow of the buttercup; and then this broad distinction between the buttercup and the senecio, as the seasons revolve toward July."); May 27, 1859 ("Golden senecio, at least to-morrow. ");May 29, 1856 (" Ride to Painted-Cup Meadow. . . . Golden senecio there, a day or two, at least"); June 9, 1853 ("The meadows are now yellow with the golden senecio, a more orange yellow, mingled with the light glossy yellow of the buttercup") See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Golden Senecio

Yellow Bethlehem-star. See June 5, 1855 ("Yellow Bethlehem-star in prime.")

Edith Emerson has found Lepidium campestre. See note to May 29, 1856 ("Found a painted-cup with more yellow than usual in it, and at length Edith found one perfectly yellow") [ Lepidium campestre--. Cow cress. See June 12, 1859, referring to  Lepidium campestre field.]

Past autumns and the lapse of time

August 18

P. M. — To Beck Stow's.

Now, perhaps, get thoroughwort. The lecheas in the Great Fields are now turning red, especially the fine one. 

August 18, 2016

As I go along the hillsides in sprout-lands, amid the Solidago stricta,

looking for the blackberries left after the rain, 

the sun warm as ever, but the air cool nevertheless, 

I hear the steady (not intermittent) shrilling of apparently the alder cricket, clear, loud, and autumnal, a season sound. Hear it, but see it not. 

It reminds me of past autumns and the lapse of time, suggests a pleasing, thoughtful melancholy, like the sound of the flail. Such preparation, such an outfit has our life, and so little brought to pass! 

Hear a faint-warbling bird amid birches and pines. Clear-yellow throat and breast, greenish-yellow head, conspicuous white bar on wings, white beneath, forked tail, bluish legs. Can it be pine warbler? The note, thus faint, is not like it. See black and white creeper. 

Yellow Bethlehem-star yet, and indigo. 

Saw yesterday and some days before a monster aphis some five eighths of an inch long on a huckleberry leaf. I mistook it, as before, for a sort of loose-spun cocoon. It was obovate, indistinctly ribbed, of long, loose, white, streaming down, but being touched it recoiled and, taken off the leaf, rolled itself into a ball. The father of all the aphides.

OEnothera pumila still.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, August 18, 1856

I hear the steady shrilling of . . . the alder cricket, clear, loud, and autumnal, a season sound. See August 18, 1851 ("How early in the year it begins to be late! The sound of the crickets, even in the spring, makes our hearts beat with its awful reproof, while it encourages with its seasonable warning"); See also  August 4, 1856 (" Have heard the alder cricket some days. The turning-point is reached."); August 4, 1851 ("I hear the note of a cricket, and am penetrated with the sense of autumn.") ; August 15, 1852 ("That clear ring like an alder locust (is it a cricket ?) for some time past is a sound which belongs to the season."); and A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Cricket in August

It reminds me of past autumns and the lapse of time . . . so little brought to pass!  See ; August 18, 1851 ("It plainly makes men sad to think. Hence pensiveness is akin to sadness") August 18, 1853 ("What means this sense of lateness that so comes over one now, — as if the rest of the year were down-hill, and if we had not performed anything before, we should not now? . . .The year is full of warnings of its shortness, as is life. The sound of so many insects and the sight of so many flowers affect us so,. . . They say, 'For the night cometh in which no man may work.'"); .August 18, 1853 (“The season of flowers or of promise may be said to be over, and now is the season of fruits; but where is our fruit ?); See also July 31, 1856 ("I hear the distant sound of a flail, and thoughts of autumn occupy my mind, and the memory of past years."); August 20, 1858 ("This weather is a preface to autumn. There is more shadow in the landscape than a week ago, methinks, and the creak of the cricket sounds cool and steady. The grass and foliage and landscape generally are of a more thought-inspiring color, suggest what some perchance would call a pleasing melancholy. "); August 29, 1854 ("Early for several mornings I have heard the sound of a flail. It leads me to ask if I have spent as industrious a spring and summer as the farmer, and gathered as rich a crop of experience.") and A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Midsummer midlife blues

Yellow Bethlehem-star yet. [Hypoxis erecta, or Hypoxis hirsuta, commonly known as yellow or  common star-grass] See June 15, 1851 ("The Hypoxis erecta, yellow Bethlehem-star . . . should be called yellow-eyed grass, methinks."); June 5, 1855 ("Yellow Bethlehem-star in prime.");  August 24, 1853 ("Yellow Bethlehem-star still."); See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Yellow Bethlehem-star

Indigo. See July 17, 1852 ("Some fields are covered now with tufts or clumps of indigo-weed, yellow with blossoms."); July 25, 1853 ("Bunches of indigo, still in bloom, more numerously than anywhere that I remember"); August 6, 1858 ("indigo, ' ' 'is still abundantly in bloom. "); August 17, 1851 ("Indigo-weed still in bloom by the dry wood-path-side,")

A monster aphis some five eighths of an inch long on a huckleberry leaf. See August 26, 1856 ("Another monster aphis on a huckleberry leaf.")

August 18. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau August 18

A sound reminds me.

Past autumns, lapse of time – so

little brought to pass.

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Past autumns and the lapse of time

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/hdt-560818

A sparrow's nest, five eggs.

 June 5.  P. M. — To Clamshell by river.  

Yellow Bethlehem-star in prime. 

Aphyllon, or orobanche, well out apparently several days. 

Nuphar Kalmiana budded above water. Green-briar flower out apparently two or three days. Low blackberry out in low ground. 

That very early (or in winter green radical leaf) plant by ash is the myosotis laxa, open since the 28th of May, say June 1st. 

Ranunculus repens, say two days out, river being very low. Common cress well out along river.

302 Side-flowering Sandwort 303 Flower magnified 

(Gray 1859)

Side-flowering sandwort apparently three days out in Clamshell flat meadow. 

Some oxalis done, say two or three days, on ditch bank. 

Ranunculus repens in prime. 

Yellow clover well out some days. 

Flowering ferns, reddish-green, show on meadows. 

Green oak-balls. 

Walking along the upper edge of the flat Clamshell meadow, a bird, probably a song sparrow (for I saw two chipping about immediately after), flew up from between my feet, and I soon found its nest remarkably concealed. 

It was under the thickest of the dry river wreck, with an entry low on one side, full five inches long and very obscure. On looking close I detected the eggs from above by looking down through some openings in the wreck about as big as sparrows’ eggs, through which I saw the eggs, five in number. I never saw the nest so perfectly concealed. 

I am much interested to see how Nature proceeds to heal the wounds where the turf was stripped off this meadow. There are large patches where nothing remained but pure black mud, nearly level or with slight hollows like a plate in it. This the sun and air had cracked into irregular polygonal figures, a foot, more or less, in diameter. The whole surface of these patches here is now covered with a short, soft, and pretty dense moss-like vegetation springing up and clothing it. 

The little hollows and the cracks are filled with a very dense growth of reddish grass or sedge, about one inch high, the growth in the cracks making pretty regular figures as in a carpet, while the intermediate spaces are very evenly but much more thinly covered with minute sarothra and whitish Gnaphalium uliginosum. Thus the wound is at once scarred over. Apparently the seeds of that grass were heavier and were washed into the hollows and cracks. Is it likely that the owner has sprinkled seed here?

H. D. Thoreau,  Journal, June 5, 1855

Yellow Bethlehem-star in prime.  See June 15, 1851 ("The Hypoxis erecta, yellow Bethlehem-star, where there is a thick, wiry grass in open path; should be called yellow-eyed grass, methinks.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Yellow Bethlehem-star

Aphyllon, or orobanche, well out apparently several days. See June 13, 1852 ("Orobanche uniflora, single-flowered broom-rape (Bigelow), [or] Aphyllon uniflorum, one-flowered cancer-root (Gray). C. found it June 12 at Clematis Brook."); June 21, 1852 ("Found the single-flowered broom-rape in Love Lane, under the oak.")

That very early (or in winter green radical leaf) plant by ash is the Myosotis laxa. See June 12, 1852 ("The mouse-ear forget me-not (Myosotis laxa) is one of the most interesting minute flowers. It is the more beautiful for being small and unpretending, for even flowers must be modest.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Mouse-ear forget-me-not

Side-flowering sandwort apparently three days out in Clamshell flat meadow. See May 26, 1853 ("Side-flowering sandwort is abundant, for some time, by wall of Lee's field near Garfield's."); June 3, 1859 ("Arenaria lateriflora well out, how long? "); June 6, 1852 ("The side-flowering sandwort, an inconspicuous white flower like a chickweed."); June 10, 1856 ("Side-flowering sandwort abundantly out this side of Dugan Spring."); June 13, 1858 ("Arenaria lateriflora, how long?")

Ranunculus repens in prime. See May 19, 1858 ("R. repens . . . the earliest ranunculus. It is a dense bed of yellow now. I am struck by the light spot in the sinuses of the leaves. "); See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Ranunculus Repens

Some oxalis done. See June 3, 1860 ("These are the clear breezy days of early June, when the leaves are young and few and the sorrel not yet in its prime.");  June 6, 1857 ("Now I am ice, now I am sorrel. Each experience reduces itself to a mood of the mind.");See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Wood Sorrel (Oxalis)

Yellow clover well out some days. See May 24, 1852 (" Found in College Yard Trifolium procumbens, or yellow clover."); May 30, 1856 ("Yellow clover abundantly out, though the heads are small yet. Are they quite open?")

A sparrow's nest remarkably concealed . . .  the eggs, five in number. See June 9, 1855 ("A song sparrow’s nest low in Wheeler’s meadow, with five eggs, made of grass lined with hair.");  June 14, 1855 ("A song sparrow’s nest in ditch bank under Clamshell, of coarse grass lined with fine, and five eggs nearly hatched and a peculiar dark end to them."); see also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Song Sparrow (Fringilla melodia)

Whitish Gnaphalium uliginosum [(Marsh Cudweed] See June 24, 1853 ("The Gnaphalium uliginosum seems to be almost in blossom."); July 11, 1853 ("Gnaphalium uliginosum now."):  July 17, 1852 ("Gnaphalium uliginosum by the roadside,"); July 24, 1856 ("Some Gnaphalium uliginosum going to seed; how long?")

I am much interested to see how Nature proceeds to heal the wounds where the turf was stripped off this meadow. See March 28, 1855 ("Over a great many acres, the meadows have been cut up into great squares and other figures by the ice of February, as if ready to be removed"); February 28, 1855 ("This is a powerful agent at work.")

June 5. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, June 5

A bird flies up from 

between my feet and I soon 

find its concealed nest. 

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, A sparrow's nest, five eggs.

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 © 2009-2025

https://tinyurl.com/hdt-550605

The royal month of August

August 4

Now the hardback and meadow-sweet reign. 

The mayweed, too, dusty by the roadside, and in the fields I scent the sweet-scented life-everlasting, which is half expanded. 

The yellow Bethlehem-star still, and the yellow gerardia, and a bluish "savory-leaved aster."

The grass is withered by the drought. The potatoes begin generally to flat down. The corn is tasselled out, turnips growing in its midst. The farmer with his barns and cattle and poultry and grain and grass. The smell of his hay.

As my eye rests on the blossom of the meadow-sweet in a hedge, I hear the note of a cricket, and am penetrated with the sense of autumn. Was it sound? or was it form? or was it scent? or was it flavor? 

It is now the royal month of August. When I hear this sound I am as dry as the rye which is everywhere cut and housed, though I am drunk with the season's wine. 

The farmer is the most inoffensive of men, with his barns and cattle and poultry and grain and grass. I like the smell of his hay well enough, though as grass it may be in my way. 

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, August 4, 1851

In the fields I scent the sweet-scented life-everlasting, which is half expanded. See August 4, 1852 ("I smell the fragrant life-everlasting, now almost out; another scent that reminds me of the autumn.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Aromatic Herbs

The yellow Bethlehem-star still. See June 15, 1851 ("The Hypoxis erecta, yellow Bethlehem-star, where there is a thick, wiry grass in open path; should be called yellow-eyed grass, methinks. "); See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Yellow Bethlehem-star

The corn is tasselled out. See July 12, 1851 ("The earliest corn is beginning to show its tassels now, and I scent it as I walk, — its peculiar dry scent.");  July 27, 1852 ("I now perceive the peculiar scent of the corn-fields.")

A bluish"savory-leaved aster. See July 29, 1852 ("That common rigid narrow-leaved faint-purplish aster in dry woods by shrub oak path, Aster linariifolius of Bigelow, but it is not savory leaved. I do not find it in Gray."); December 26, 1855 (“Weeds in the fields and the wood-paths are the most interesting. Here are asters, savory-leaved, whose flat imbricated calyxes, three quarters of an inch over, are surmounted and inclosed in a perfectly transparent icebutton, like a glass knob, through which you see the reflections of the brown calyx.”); see also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Savory-leaved aster

My eye rests on the blossom of the meadow-sweet. See June 20, 1853 ("Meadow-sweet out, probably yesterday. It is an agreeable, unpretending flower."); July 11, 1851 ("The meadow-sweet has bloomed")

It is now the royal month of August. See August 18, 1852 ("There is indeed something royal about the month of August"); August 10, 1853 ("August, royal and rich")

I hear the note of a cricket, and am penetrated with the sense of autumn. See  August 4, 1852 ("Have had a gentle rain . . . but still I hear the cricket. He seems to chirp from a new depth toward autumn, new lieferungs of the fall. ");   See also  August 3, 1852 (" I hear a cricket creak in the shade; also the sound of a distant piano."); August 18, 1856 ("  I hear the steady (not intermittent) shrilling of apparently the alder cricket, clear, loud, and autumnal, a season sound. Hear it, but see it not. It reminds me of past autumns and the lapse of time, suggests a pleasing, thoughtful melancholy.")  and A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, the Cricket in August

August 4. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau,  August 4 

I hear a cricket

and am penetrated with 

the sense of autumn. 

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 © 2009-2025