Showing posts with label Cochituate. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Cochituate. Show all posts

Monday, November 8, 2021

I shall be ready to bloom again here in my Indian summer days.




November 8

The dark spruce tree at Sherman's; its vicinity the site for a house.

Ah, those sun-sparkles on Dudley Pond in this November air! what a heaven to live in! Intensely brilliant, as no artificial light I have seen, like a dance of diamonds. Coarse mazes of a diamond dance seen through the trees.

All objects shine to-day, even the sportsmen seen at a distance, as if a cavern were unroofed, and its crystals gave entertainment to the sun. This great see saw of brilliants, the åvýpionov yélaoua.

You look several inches into the sod.

The cedarn hills.

The squirrels that run across the road sport their tails like banners.

The gray squirrels in their cylinders are set out in the sun.

When I saw the bare sand at Cochituate I felt my relation to the soil.
These are my sands not yet run out. Not yet will the fates turn the glass. This air have I title to taint with my decay. In this clean sand my bones will gladly lie. 

Like Viola pedata, I shall be ready to bloom again here in my Indian summer days. Here ever springing, never dying, with perennial root I stand; for the winter of the land is warm to me. While the flowers bloom again as in the spring, shall I pine? When I see her sands exposed, thrown up from beneath the surface, it touches me inwardly, it reminds me of my origin; for I am such a plant, so native to New England, me thinks, as springs from the sand cast up from below.

I find ice under the north side of woods nearly an inch thick, where the acorns are frozen in, which have dropped from the overhanging oaks and been saved from the squirrels, perchance by the water.

W. E. C. says he found a ripe strawberry last week in Berkshire.

Saw a frog at the Swamp Bridge on back road.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal , November 8, 1851

Ah, those sun-sparkles on Dudley Pond. See November 7, 1851 ("Returned by the south side of Dudley Pond.")

When I saw the bare sand at Cochituate I felt my relation to the soil. See November 7, 1851 ("Cochituate. . . .The glorious sandy banks far and near, caving and sliding, — far sandy slopes, the forts of the land, where you see the naked flesh of New England, . . .Dear to me to lie in, this sand; fit to preserve the bones of a race for thousands of years to come. And this is my home, my native soil; and I am a New-Englander.")

Like Viola pedata, I shall be ready to bloom again here in my Indian summer days. See November 7, 1851 ("The mayflower leaves we saw there, and the Viola pedata in blossom.") See also September 8, 1851 ("Plants commonly soon cease to grow for the year, unless they may have a fall growth, which is a kind of second spring. In the feelings of the man, too, the year is already past, and he looks forward to the coming winter.  His occasional rejuvenescence and faith in the current time is like the aftermath, a scanty crop. . . .It is a season of withering, of dust and heat, a season of small fruits and trivial experiences.  . . . But there is an aftermath in early autumn, and some spring flowers bloom again, followed by an Indian summer of finer atmosphere and of a pensive beauty.  May my life be not destitute of its Indian summer, a season of fine and clear, mild weather in which I may prolong my hunting before the winter comes,");  September 28, 1852 (" I find the hood-leaved violet quite abundant in a meadow, and the pedata in the Boulder Field . . . This is the commencement, then, of the second spring");  October 22, 1859 ("In the wood-path below the Cliffs I see perfectly fresh and fair Viola pedata flowers, as in the spring, though but few together. No flower by its second blooming more perfectly brings back the spring to us"); October 23, 1853 ("The Viola pedata looking up from so low in the wood-path makes a singular impression. "); November 9, 1850 ("I found many fresh violets (Viola pedata) to-day (November 9th) in the woods.”)

Sunday, February 25, 2018

Ice at Walden

February 25

Ice at Walden eleven inches thick and very soggy, sinking to a level with the water, though there is but a trifling quantity of snow on it. Does it not commonly begin to be soggy even thus early, and thick, sinking deeper? 

I hear of sudden openings in ponds — as at Cochituate — this year.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, February 25, 1858

Ice at Walden eleven inches thick. See February 18, 1858 (“I find Walden ice to be nine and a half plus inches thick, having gained three and a half inches since the 8th”); February 8, 1858 (“I am surprised to find that Walden ice is only six inches thick, or even a little less, and it has not been thicker.”) See  also. February 24, 1857 (“Walden is still covered with thick ice, though melted a foot from the shore.”); February 16, 1856 (“Near the shore in one place it was twenty-two inches.”)

Thursday, August 24, 2017

Mt. Washington is 6285 feet above high water mark at Portland.

August 24. 

A. M. – Ride to Austin Bacon’s, Natick.

On the left hand, just this side the centre of Wayland, I measure the largest, or northernmost, of two large elms standing in front of an old house. At four feet from the ground, where, looking from one side, is the smallest place between the ground and the branches, it is seventeen feet in circumference, but there is a bulge on the north side for five feet upward. At five feet it divides to two branches, and each of these soon divides again. 

A. Bacon showed me a drawing apparatus which he said he invented, very simple and convenient, also microscopes and many glasses for them which he made. 

Showed me an exotic called “cypress,” which he said had spread from the cemetery over the neighboring fields. Did not know what it was. Is it not Euphorbia Cyparissias? and does it not grow by the north roadside east of Jarvis's [Also at J. Moore's front yard]?

I measured a scarlet oak northeast of his house, on land of the heirs of John Bacon, which at seven feet from the ground, or the smallest place below the branches, was ten feet eight inches in circumference, at one foot from ground sixteen and one fourth feet in circumference. It branched at twelve feet into three. Its trunk tapered or lessened very gradually and regularly from the ground to the smallest place, after the true Eddystone Lighthouse fashion. It has a large and handsome top, rather high than spreading (spreads about three and a half rods), but the branches often dead at the ends. This has grown considerably since Emerson measured; vide his account. Bacon says that E. pronounced it the largest oak in the State. 

Showed us an elm on the north side of the same field, some ten feet in circumference, which he said was as large in 1714, his grandmother having remembered it nearly so long. There was a dead Rhus radicans on it two inches in diameter.

In the meadow south of this field, we looked for the Drosera filiformis, which formerly grew there, but could not find it. Got a specimen of very red clover, said to be from the field of Waterloo, in front of the house near the schoolhouse on the hill. Returned eastward over a bare hill with some walnuts on it, formerly called Pine Hill, from whence a very good view of the new town of Natick. 

On the northeast base of this hill Bacon pointed out to me what he called Indian corn-hills, in heavy, moist pasture ground where had been a pine wood. The hillocks were in irregular rows four feet apart which ran along the side of the hill, and were much larger than you would expect after this lapse of time. I was confident that if Indian, they could not be very old, perhaps not more than a century or so, for such could never have been made with the ancient Indian hoes, – clamshells, stones, or the like, — but with the aid of plows and white men's hoes. Also pointed out to me what he thought the home site of an Indian squaw marked by a buckthorn bush by the wall. 

These hillocks were like tussocks with lichens thick on them, and B. thought that the rows were not running as a white man's with furrow.

We crossed the road which runs east and west, and, in the low ground on the south side, saw a white oak and a red maple, each forty or fifty feet high, which had fairly grown together for three or more feet upward from the ground. Also, nearby, a large white ash which though healthy bore a mark or scar where a branch had been broken off and stripped down the trunk. 

B. said that one of his ancestors, perhaps his grandfather, before the Revolution, went to climb this tree, and reached up and took hold of this branch, which he stripped down, and this was the scar!

Under the dead bark of this tree saw several large crickets of a rare kind. They had a peculiar naked and tender look, with branched legs and a rounded incurved front. 

Red cohosh grows along a wall in low ground close by. We ascended a ridge hill northeast of this, or east by south of Bacon’s house, on the north end of which Squaw Poquet, as well as her father, who was a powwow, before her, lived. Bacon thought that powwows commonly withdrew at last to the northeast side of a hill and lived alone. We saw the remains of apple trees in the woods, which she had planted.

B. thought apple trees did not now grow so large in New England as formerly, that they only grew to be one foot in diameter and then began to decay, whereas they formerly grew to be two or three and even sometimes four feet in diameter. 

The Corallorhiza multiflora was common in these woods, and out. 

The Galium circæzans  leaves taste very much like licorice and, according to B., produce a great flow of water, also make you perspire and are good for a cold. 

We came down northward to the Boston and Worcester turnpike, by the side of which the Malaxis liliifolia grows, though we did not find it. 

We waded into Coos Swamp on the south side the turnpike to find the ledum, but did not succeed. B. is sure it grows there. This is a large swamp with a small pond, or pond-hole, in the midst and the usual variety of shrubs. I noticed small spruces, high blueberry, the water andromeda, rhodora, Vaccinium dumosum (hairy) ripe, Kalmia glauca, Decodon verticillatus, etc. 

B. says that the arbor-vitae grows indigenously in pretty large patches in Needham; that Cochituate Pond is only between three and four miles long, or five including the meadows that are flowed, yet it has been called even ten miles long.

B. gave me a stone with very pretty black markings like jungermannias, from a blasting on the aqueduct in Natick. Some refer it to electricity. 

According to Guizot at the Montreal meeting the other day, Mt. Washington is 6285 feet above high water mark at Portland.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, August 24, 1857

The Corallorhiza multiflora was common in these woods. . . See note to August 13, 1857.

From the New York Times August 12, 1861 ("In 1851, Prof. GUYOT established the height of Mount Washington at 6,291 feet, by the most careful barometrical observations; and subsequently, in the same year or next succeeding one, the Atlantic and St. Lawrence Railroad Company caused a measurement by the spirit level, by W.A. GOODWIN, Esq., Civil Engineer, who fixed the height at 6,285 feet. The engineers of the Coast Survey, in 1853, found the height of Mount Washington 6,293 feet, by a similar measurement. These slight differences arose from a variation of the base line or the different methods of ascertaining the sea level. The mean of the two measurements by GUYOT and GOODWIN, 6,288 feet, has been adopted as the true height of the summit of Mount Washington.")

B. says Cochituate Pond is only between three and four miles long, or five including the meadows that are flowed. See November 7, 1851 ("It must be the largest lake in Middlesex."). See also   Annual Report of the Cochituate Water Board For 1851. ( The Pond within the towns of Framingham , Wayland and Natick is nearly three and one half miles long. It naturally discharges into the Sudbury River about 14 miles above Concord where the Sudbury joins the Assabet to form the Concord River.)

 


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