Showing posts with label Emerson's Cliff. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Emerson's Cliff. Show all posts

Tuesday, August 23, 2016

Dense pearly masses of flowers covered with bees and butterflies.

August 23

P. M. — To Walden. 


I see a bed of Antennaria margaritacea, now in its prime, by the railroad, and very handsome. It has fallen outward on all sides ray-wise, and rests on the ground, forming perfectly regular circle, four feet in diameter and fifteen inches high, with a dark ash-colored centre, twenty inches in diameter, composed of the stems, then a wide circumference, one foot or more broad, of dense pearly masses of flowers covered with bees and butterflies. This is as regular as a wheel. So fair and pure and abundant. 

Elder-berries, now looking purple, are weighing down the bushes along fences by their abundance. 

White goldenrod, not long commonly. 

Decodon getting stale at Second Andromeda Pond. Often the end has rooted itself, and the whole forms a loop four feet long and twenty or more inches high in the middle, with numerous branches, making it rather troublesome to wade through. Where the stems bend down and rest on the water, they swell to several times their usual size and acquire that thick, soft bark, and put forth numerous roots; not the extreme point, but a space just short of it, while that starts up again. 

On R. W. E.'s hillside by railroad, burnt over by the engine in the spring, the erechthites has shot up abundantly, very tall and straight, some six or seven feet high. 

Those singular crowded and wrinkled dry galls, red and cream-color mingled, on white oak shrubs, with their grubs in them.

On the west side of Emerson's Cliff, I notice many Gerardia pedicularia out. A bee is hovering about one bush. The flowers are not yet open, and if they were, perhaps he could not enter. He proceeds at once, head downwards, to the base of the tube, extracts the sweet there, and departs. Examining, I find that every flower has a small hole pierced through the tube, commonly through calyx and all, opposite the nectary. This does not hinder its opening. 

The Rape of the Flower! The bee knew where the sweet lay, and was unscrupulous in his mode of obtaining it. A certain violence tolerated by nature. 

Now for high blackberries, though the low are gone. At the Lincoln bound hollow, Walden, there is a dense bed of the Rubus hispidus, matting the ground seven or eight inches deep, and full of the small black fruit, now in its prime. It is especially abundant where the vines lie over a stump. Has a peculiar, hardly agreeable acid. 

On this Lespedeza Stuvei, a green locust an inch and three quarters long. 

The scent of decaying fungi in woods is quite offensive now in many places, like carrion even. I see many red ones eaten more or less in the paths, nibbled out on the edges. 

7 p. m. — The river has risen four inches since last night and now is one inch above the wall, and there is a little current there. Probably, then, the Assabet has begun to fall, — if this has not risen higher than that. 

J. Farmer says that he found that the gummed twig of a chimney swallow's nest, though it burned when held in a flame, went out immediately when taken out of it, and he thinks it owing to a peculiarity in the gum, rendering the twig partly fire-proof, so that they cannot be ignited by the sparks in a chimney. I suggested that these swallows had originally built in hollow trees, but it would be interesting to ascertain whether they constructed their nests in the same way and of the same material then.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, August 23, 1856

I see a bed of Antennaria margaritacea, now in its prime, by the railroad, and very handsome
. See August 23, 1858 (“I see dense patches of the pearly everlasting, maintaining their ground in the midst of dense green sweet-fern, a striking contrast of snow-white and green.”); See alsso July 17, 1852 ("The Antennaria margaritacea, pearly everlasting, is out")

Elder-berries, now looking purple, are weighing down the bushes See August 22, 1852 ("The elder bushes are weighed down with fruit partially turned, and are still in bloom at the extremities of their twigs.");  August 29, 1854 ("The cymes of elder-berries, black with fruit, are now conspicuous."); August 29, 1859 ("Elder-berry clusters swell and become heavy and therefore droop, bending the bushes down, just in proportion as they ripen. Hence you see the green cymes perfectly erect, the half-ripe drooping, and the perfectly ripe hanging straight down on the same bush.") See also A Book of the Seasonsby Henry Thoreau, Elder-berries

White goldenrod, not long commonly. See August 12, 1852 ("Solidago bicolor, white goldenrod, apparently in good season"); August 21, 1856 ("The bicolor, just begun in some places. "); September 21, 1856 ("[On top of Cliff, behind the big stump] is a great place for white goldenrod, now in its prime and swarming with honey-bees."); October 11, 1856 ("The white goldenrod is still common here, and covered with bees.")

Gerardia pedicularia out. A bee is hovering about one bush
. See August 12, 1856 ("Gerardia pedicularia, how long?"); August 17, 1852 ("Bushy gerardia, almost ready. "); August 24, 1858 ("Climbing the hill at the bend, I find Gerardia Pedicularia, apparently several days, or how long?")

The Rape of the Flower! See October 19, 1852 ("I see that the bees have gnawed round holes in [fringed gentian] sides to come at the nectar.")

Now for high blackberries. See August 23, 1858 ("High blackberries now in their prime, their great racemes of shining black fruit, mixed with red and green, bent over amid the sweet-fern and sumach on sunny hill sides,"); See also  August 17, 1853 ("The high blackberries are now in their prime; the richest berry we have.");  August 22, 1852  ("Is not the high blackberry our finest berry?") 
 August 24, 1852 (" Surely the high blackberry is the finest berry, – not by dusty roadsides, but when now the season is rather late, and you find them in some rocky sprout-land, far from any road, fully ripe, having escaped the pickers, weighing down their stems and half hidden amid the green leaves of other plants, black and shiny, ready to drop, with a spirited juice. Who will pretend that, plucked and eaten there, they are the same with those offered at the tea table? ") and A Book of the Seasons by Henry Thoreau, Blackberries

A green locust an inch and three quarters long. See August 21, 1853 ("Saw one of those light-green locusts about three quarters of an inch long on a currant leaf in the garden. "); August 27, 1860 ("See one of the shrilling green alder locusts on the under side of a grape leaf. Its body is about three quarters of an inch or less in length; antennae and all, two inches. “); September 6, 1857 ("I see one of those peculiarly green locusts with long and slender legs on a grass stem, which are often concealed by their color.")

The scent of decaying fungi in woods is quite offensive now. See August 14, 1853 ("T
here are countless great fungi of various forms and colors, the produce of the warm rains and muggy weather . . . and for most of my walk the air is tainted with a musty, carrion like odor, in some places very offensive"); August 16, 1853 ("Yesterday also in the Marlborough woods, perceived everywhere that offensive mustiness of decaying fungi."); September 10, 1854 ("Last year, for the last three weeks of August, the woods were filled with the strong musty scent of decaying fungi, but this year I have seen very few fungi and have not noticed that odor at all.")

The gummed twig of a chimney swallow's nest. See July 29, 1856 ("Pratt gave me a chimney swallow's nest . . . firmly fastened together by a very conspicuous whitish semi-transparent glue."

August 23. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, August 23

A wheel of flowers
pearly masses covered with
bees and butterflies.

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 © 2009-2026

https://tinyurl.com/hdt-560823

Tuesday, May 1, 2012

Before the woods leaf out.



May 1.

I hear the first towhee finch. He says to-wee, to-wee, and another, much farther off than I supposed when I went in search of him, says whip your ch-r-r-r-r-r-r, with a metallic ring. 

I hear the first catbird also, mewing, and the wood thrush, which still thrills me, -a sound to be heard in a new country,- from one side of a clearing. I think I heard an oven-bird just now, - wicher wicher whicher wich.

I am on the Cliff. It is about six. The flicker cackles. I hear a woodpecker tapping. The tinkle of the huckleberry-bird comes up from the shrub oak plain. A partridge bursts away from under the rock below me on quivering wings. Leaving the woods I hear the hooting of an owl, which sounds very much like a clown calling to his team.

We have, then, flowers and the song of birds before the woods leaf out  – like poetry. 

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, May 1, 1852

I think I heard an oven-bird just now, - wicher wicher whicher wich. See  May 3, 1852 ("That oven-birdish note which I heard here on May 1st I now find to have been uttered by the black and white warbler or creeper."); See April 28, 1856 ("I hear to-day frequently the seezer seezer seezer of the black and white creeper, . . .”);May 4, 1858 ("I hear the weese wese wese of the creeper continually from the swamp. It is the prevailing note there.") See also A Book of the Seasons  by Henry Thoreau, The Black and White Creeper See also April 27, 1854 (“Hear a faint sort of oven-bird's (?) note.”); May 4, 1855 (“In cut woods a small thrush, with crown inclining to rufous, tail foxy, and edges of wings dark-ash; clear white beneath. I think the golden-crowned?”);  May 7, 1852 (“The first oven-bird.”);  May 7, 1853 (“The woods now begin to ring with the woodland note of the oven-bird.”); May 9, 1857 (“Golden-crowned thrush note. ”);  May 10, 1858 (“As I paddle along, hear the Maryland yellow-throat, the bobolink, the oven-bird, and the yellow-throated vireo.”); May 12, 1855 (“Hear an oven-bird.”);  May 13, 1856 (“Also the oven-bird sings.”) See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Oven-bird.

Leaving the woods I hear the hooting of an owl, which sounds very much like a clown calling to his team. See November 18, 1851 (“ Now at sundown I hear the hooting of an owl, — hoo hoo hoo, hoorer hoo. It sounds like the hooting of an idiot or a maniac broke loose”) See also A Book of Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Voice of the Barred Owl
We have, then, flowers and the song of birds before the woods leaf out – like poetry. See April 28, 1852 ("The spring flowers wait not to perfect their leaves before they expand their blossoms. The blossom in so many cases precedes the leaf; so with poetry? They flash out.")

We have flowers and
birdsong – like poetry –
before woods leaf out.

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

I was going to say
“I was just thinking about you”
But you didn’t call.
zphx 20220501

Saturday, April 28, 2012

The succession of herbaceous flowers (all blossom at once?)

April 28.

How suddenly the flowers bloom! 

Two or three days ago I could not, or did not, find the leaves of the crowfoot.  To-day, not knowing it well, I look in vain, till at length, in the very warmest nook in the grass above the rocks of the Cliff, I find two bright-yellow blossoms, which betray the inconspicuous leaves and all. 


The spring flowers wait not to perfect their leaves before they expand their blossoms. The blossom in so many cases precedes the leaf; so with poetry? They flash out.

Spring flowers flash out –
the blossom precedes the leaf.
So with poetry?

April 28, 2017
April 28, 2017
April 28, 2017
April 28, 2013
April 28, 2012
April 28, 2012

In the most favorable locality you will find flowers earlier than the May goers will believe. 

This year, at least, one flower hardly precedes another, but as soon as the storms are over and pleasant weather comes, all blossom at once, having been retarded so long. 

This appears to be particularly true of the herbaceous flowers. How much does this happen every year?

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, April 28, 1852

The blossom in so many cases precedes the leaf. See May 10, 1852 ("How closely the flower follows upon, if it does not precede, the leaf! The leaves are but calyx and escort to the flower.")

As soon as the storms are over and pleasant weather comes, all blossom at once. See  April 9, 1854 ("The flowers have blossomed very suddenly this year as soon as the long cold spell was over, and almost all together.")

Suddenly flowers! 
As soon as the storms are over
all blossom at once.
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
tinyurl.com/hdt-520428

Sunday, September 26, 2010

Under Emerson Cliff

September 26

P . M . — Round Walden and Pleasant Meadow.

Small oaks in hollows (as under Emerson Cliff) have fairly begun to change.

Acorns have fallen after the rain and wind, just as leaves and fruit.

The taller grass and sedge, now withered and brown, reveals the little pines in it.

I see, just up, the large light-orange toad-stools with white spots --
at first:


then:

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, September 26, 1860

September 26. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, September 26



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



Friday, June 18, 2010

Standing on Emerson's Cliff

June 18

The tumultuous singing of birds, a burst of melody poured into my slumber, wakes me this morning at dawn.

Standing on Emerson's Cliff, I see very distinctly the redness of a luxuriant field of clover on the top of Fair Haven Hill, some two thirds of a mile off, the day being cloudy and misty, the sun just ready to break out.

On this Emerson hill the sedge P. Pennsylvanica has shot up into large and luxuriant and densely set tufts, giving quite a grassy appearance to the spaces between the little oak sprouts.

I notice huckleberry and blueberry, and those remarkable galls on a shrub oak, two or three together, each with a grub in it.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, June 18, 1860

The tumultuous singing of birds, a burst of melody poured into my slumber . See June 4, 1852 (“What sounds to be awakened by! If only our sleep, our dreams, are such as to harmonize with the song, the warbling of the birds, ushering in the day!”)

I see very distinctly the redness of a luxuriant field of clover on the top of Fair Haven Hill. See June 15, 1853 (“What more luxuriant than a clover-field? . . . This is perhaps the most characteristic feature of June, resounding with the hum of insects. It is so massive, such a blush on the fields. The rude health of the sorrel cheek has given place to the blush of clover.”)



The tumultuous singing of birds, a burst of melody, wakes me up (the window being open) these mornings at dawn. What a matinade to have poured into your slumber!

. . .
I see in the southerly bays of Walden the pine pollen now washed up thickly; only at the bottom of the bays, especially the deep long bay, where it is a couple of rods long by six to twenty-four inches wide and one inch deep; pure sulphur-yellow, and now has no smell. It has come quite across the pond from where the pines stand, full half a mile, probably washed across most of the way. 

I have scarcely seen a warbler for a fortnight, or since the leaves have been developed, though I hear plenty of them in the tree-tops.

June18. See A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, June 18


The window open
a burst of melody pours
into my slumber.

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 © 2009-2020

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