I saw bluets whitening the fields,

May 7.

May 7, 2020
Saxifrage
See .May 5, 1860 ("She has just woven in, or laid on the edge, a fresh sprig of saxifrage in flower. . . . Think how many pewees must have built under the eaves of this cliff since pewees were created and this cliff itself built!!”)

River one eighth of an inch lower than yesterday. 

Chimney swallow. 

Catbird sings. 

Hear the white throat sparrow’s peabody note in gardens. 

Canada plum in full bloom, or say in prime. Also common plum in full bloom? 

It is very hazy, as yesterday, and I smell smoke. 

P. M. – To Assabet stone bridge. 

Find in the road beyond the Wheeler cottages a little round, evidently last year’s, painted turtle. Has no yellow spots, but already little red spots on the edges of the sides. The sternum a sort of orange or pinkish red. 

This warm weather, I see many new beetles and other insects. 

Ribes florida by bridge (flower). 

Cultivated cherry flowered yesterday at least, not yet ours. 

Myrtle-bird. 

Met old Mr. Conant with his eye and half the side of his face black and blue, looking very badly. He said he had been jerked down on to the barn-floor by a calf some three weeks old which he was trying to lead. The strength of calves is remarkable. I saw one who had some difficulty in pulling along a calf not a week old. With their four feet they have a good hold on the earth. The last one was sucking a cow that had sore teats, and every time it bunted, the cow kicked energetically, raking the calf’s head and legs, but he stood close against the cow’s belly and never budged in spite of all her kicks, though a man would have jumped out of the way. Who taught the calf to bunt? 

I saw bluets whitening the fields yesterday a quarter of a mile off. They are to the sere brown grass what the shad-bush is now to the brown and bare sprout lands or young woods. 

When planting potatoes the other day, I found small ones that had been left in the ground, perfectly sound!

H. D. Thoreau. Journal, May 7, 1860

Hear the white throat sparrow’s peabody note in gardens. See May 7, 1854 ("A white-throated sparrow still (in woods).").;   May 7, 1860 ("Hear the white throat sparrow’s peabody note in gardens."); See also and compare  April 19,1855 ("Hear the tull-lull of the white-throated sparrow in street”); May 3, 1859 (" Hear the te-e-e of a white-throat sparrow. "); May 4, 1855 ("See more white-throated sparrows than any other bird to-day in various parts of our walk, generally feeding in numbers on the ground in open dry fields and meadows next to woods, then flitting through the woods. Hear only that sharp, lisping chip from them."); May 6, 1859 ("Hear the tea-lee of the white-throat sparrow.")and A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, the White-throated Sparrow.. Note also  June 21, 1858 ("What I call the myrtle-bird’s is the white-throat sparrow’s note") and see May 5, 1857 ('Hear the tull-lull of a myrtle-bird (very commonly heard for three or four days after");  May 6, 1858 ("I heard a myrtle-bird's tull-lull yesterday, and that somebody else heard it four or five days ago.")

Canada plum in full bloom. Also common plum in full bloom? See May 5, 1855 ("Canada plum and cultivated cherry and Missouri currant look as if they would bloom to-morrow.”);  May 10, 1855 ("Canada plum opens petals to-day and leafs. Domestic plum only leafs.”).

It is very hazy, as yesterday, and I smell smoke. See May 7, 1856 ("To-day and yesterday the sunlight is peculiarly yellow, on account of the smoky haze. I notice its peculiar yellowness, almost orange, even when, coming through a knot-hole in a dark room, it falls on the opposite wall. ")
Find in the road a little round painted turtle. Has no yellow spots, but already little red spots on the edges of the sides. The sternum a sort of orange or pinkish red. See June 15, 1854 ("A young painted tortoise on the surface of the water, as big as a quarter of a dollar, with a reddish or orange sternum . . . was red beneath."). See also  May 7, 1858 ("The male yellow spotted and also wood turtle have very distinctly depressed sternums, but not so the male Emys picta that I have noticed.").

I saw bluets whitening the fields yesterday a quarter of a mile off. See May 21, 1855 ("Bluets whiten the fields, and violets are now perhaps in prime.")

What the shad-bush is now. See May 7, 1853 ("The delicate cherry-like leaf, transparent red, of the shad-bush is now interesting, especially in the sun. ) See also May 6, 1860 ("The Amelanchier Botryapium in flower now spots the brown sprout-land hillside on the southeast side, across the pond, very interestingly. . . .They are the more interesting for coming thus between the fall of the oak leaves and the expanding of other shrubs and trees. Some of the larger, near at hand, are very light and elegant masses of white bloom. The white-fingered flower of the sprout-lands."). May 15, 1858("The shad-bush in bloom is now conspicuous, its white flags on all sides. Is it not the most massy and conspicuous of any wild plant now in bloom?")

The men killed them, and laid them all in a line on the ground, and they measured several hundred feet.

April 20. 

The Salix purpurea in prime; began, say, 18th. 

A warm day. Now begin to sit without fires more commonly, and to wear but one coat commonly. 

Moore tells me that last fall his men, digging sand in that hollow just up the hill, dug up a parcel of snakes half torpid. They were both striped and black together, in a place somewhat porous, he thought where a horse had been buried once. 

The men killed them, and laid them all in a line on the ground, and they measured several hundred feet. This seems to be the common practice when such collections are found; they are at once killed and stretched out in a line, and the sum of their lengths measured and related.  

It is a warm evening, and I hear toads ring distinctly for the first time. 

C. sees bluets and some kind of thrush to-day, size of wood thrush, — he thought probably hermit thrush.

H. D.. Thoreau, Journal, April 20, 1860

The Salix purpurea in prime; began, say, 18th. See April 10, 1860 ("Salix purpurea apparently will not open for four or five days");. See also April 22, 1859 ("The Salix purpurea in prime, out probably three or four days; say 19th.")

 Now begin to sit without fires more commonly, and to wear but one coat commonly. See April 16, 1855 ("A perfectly clear and very warm day, . . . and I have not got far before, for the first time, I regret that I wore my greatcoat"); April 17, 1855 ("I leave off my greatcoat, though the wind rises rather fresh before I return. It is worth the while to walk so free and light, having got off both boots and greatcoat.");. April 19, 1855 ("Warm and still and somewhat cloudy. Am without greatcoat"); April 25, 1854 (" I swelter under my greatcoat. . . . (I have not left it at home yet),. . . For some time we have done with little fire, nowadays let it go out in the afternoon."); April 26, 1854 ("It is now so warm that I go back to leave my greatcoat for the first time.");April 30, 1859 (" The warmest afternoon yet. Sat in sun without fire this forenoon."); May 2, 1858 ("Sit without fire to-day and yesterday."); May 3, 1857 ("To-day we sit without fire.")

The men killed them. See  note to April 26, 1857 ("I have the same objection to killing a snake that I have to the killing of any other animal, yet the most humane man that I know never omits to kill one.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Striped Snake

I hear toads ring distinctly for the first time.  See  April 20, 1853 ("Saw a toad and a small snake.") See also April 5, 1860 ("I hear, or think that I hear, a very faint distant ring of toads, which, though I walk and walk all the afternoon, I never come nearer to. . . .. Thus gradually and moderately the year begins. It creeps into the ears so gradually that most do not observe it, and so our ears are gradually accustomed to the sound, and perchance we do not perceive it when at length it has become very much louder and more general. ");  April 25, 1859 ("[A] new season has arrived.  . . . It begins when the first toad is heard. Methinks I hear through the wind to-day . . . a very faint, low ringing of toads, as if distant and just begun. It is an indistinct undertone, and I am far from sure that I hear anything. It may be all imagination").  Also see A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Ring of Toads.

C. sees bluets and some kind of thrush to-day, size of wood thrush, — he thought probably hermit thrush. See April 19, 1858 ("Hear of bluets found on Saturday, the 17th; how long? ");  April 21, 1855 ("At Cliffs, I hear at a distance a wood [sic] thrush. It affects us as a part of our unfallen selves..") and note to April 24, 1856 ("Behold my hermit thrush, with one companion, flitting silently through the birches."). See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Signs of Spring: The Arrival of the Hermit Thrush

See also  A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, April 20

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

Wild, scudding wind-clouds in the north, spitting cold rain or sleet, with the curved lines of falling rain beneath..

April 25.

Saturday. P. M. — Down Turnpike to Smith's Hill and return by Goose Pond. 

Saw a large old hollow log with the upper side [gone], which [made] me doubt if it was not a trough open at the ends, and suggested that the first trough was perhaps such a hollow log with one side split off and the ends closed. 

It is cool and windy this afternoon. 

Some sleet falls, but as we sit on the east side of Smith's chestnut grove, the wood, though so open and leafless, makes a perfect lee for us, apparently by breaking the force of the wind. A dense but bare grove of slender chestnut trunks a dozen rods wide is a perfect protection against this violent wind, and makes a perfectly calm lee. 

I find that I can very easily make a convenient box of the birch bark, at this season at least, when the sap is running, to carry a moss or other thing in safely. I have only to make three cuts and strip off a piece from a clear space some ten inches long, and then, rolling it up wrong side outward, as it naturally curls backward as soon as taken off (the dry side shrinking, the moist swelling) and so keeps its place, I bend or fold the ends back on it, as if it were paper, and so close them, and, if I please, tie it round with a string of the same bark. This is resilient or elastic, and stands out from a plant, and also is not injured by moisture like paper. When the incision is made now, the crystalline drops of sap follow the knife down the tree. This box dries yellow or straw-colored, with large clouds of green derived from the inner bark. 

The inner bark of the Betula populifolia just laid bare is green with a yellow tinge; that of the B. papyracea is buff. The undermost layer of the outer bark of the last, next to the inner bark, is straw-colored and exceedingly thin and delicate, and smoother to the lips than any artificial tissue. 

Bluets numerous and fully out at the Smith hillside between trough and Saw Mill Brook Falls. 

Got to-day unquestionable Salix humilis in the Britton hollow, north of his shanty, but all there that I saw (and elsewhere as yet) [are] pistillate. It is apparently now in prime, and apparently the next to bloom after the various larger and earlier ones, all which I must call as yet S. discolor. This S. humilis is small-catkined and loves a dry soil. 

A correspondent of the Tribune of April 24th, 1857, who signs "Lyndeborough, N. H., April 15, 1857. J. Herrick," says that he taps his sugar maples four feet from the ground so that cattle may not disturb the buckets, and that the sap will run as freely from the topmost branch as from a root. 

"Any one may learn this fact from the red squirrel, who, by the way, is a famous sugar maker, and knows when to tap a tree and where to do it. He performs his tapping in the highest perpendicular limbs or twigs, and leaves the sun and wind to do the evaporating, and in due season and pleasant weather you will see him come round and with great gusto gather his sirup into his stomach." 

The dense, green, rounded beds of mosses in springs and old water-troughs are very handsome now, — intensely cold green cushions. 

Again we had, this afternoon at 2 o'clock, those wild, scudding wind-clouds in the north, spitting cold rain or sleet, with the curved lines of falling rain beneath. The wind is so strong that the thin drops fall on you in the sunshine when the cloud has drifted far to one side. 

The air is peculiarly clear, the light intense, and when the sun shines slanting under the dark scud, the willows, etc., rising above the dark flooded meadows, are lit with a fine straw-colored light like the spirits of trees. 

I see winkle fungi comparatively fresh, whose green and reddish-brown and pale-buff circles above turn to light and dark slate and white, and so finally fade all to white. 

The beds of fine mosses on bare yellow mouldy soil are now in fruit and very warmly red in the sun when seen a little from one side. 

No pages in my Journal are so suggestive as those which contain a rude sketch. 

Suppose we were to drink only the yellow birch sap and mix its bark with our bread, would not its yellow curls sprout from our foreheads, and our breath and persons exhale its sweet aroma? What sappy vigor there would be in our limbs! What sense we should have to explore the swamps with!

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, April 25, 1857

I find that I can very easily make a convenient box of the birch bark . . . See April 13, 1857 ("I peeled a white birch, getting a piece of bark about ten inches long. I noticed that the birch sap was flowing. This bark at once curled back so as to present its yellow side outward. I . . . tied it round with a strip of birch bark, making a very nice and airy box for the creature, which would not be injured by moisture, far better than any paper, . . .")

Again we had, this afternoon at 2 o'clock, those wild, scudding wind-clouds in the north, spitting cold rain or sleet.  See December 14, 1859( "Snow-storms might be classified. .. . there is sleet, which is half snow, half rain.")

Suppose we were to drink only the yellow birch sap. See April 16, 1857 ("Get birch sap, — two bottles yellow birch and five of black birch. ")

Would not its yellow curls sprout from our foreheads. See  January 4, 1853 ("This is like a fair, flaxen haired sister of the dark-complexioned black birch, with golden ringlets."); February 18, 1854 ("The curls of the yellow birch bark form more or less parallel straight lines up and down on all sides of the tree, like parted hair blown aside by the wind, or as when a vest bursts and blows open."); January 26, 1858 ("The yellow birch . . .might be described as a tree whose trunk or bole was covered with golden and silver shavings glued all over it and dangling in curls. ")

Hearing with the side of the ear.

April 30

Surveying the Tommy Wheeler farm. A fine morning. 

I hear the first brown thrasher singing within three or four rods of me on the shrubby hill side in front of the Hadley place. I think I had a glimpse of one darting down from a sapling-top into the bushes as I rode by the same place on the morning of the 28th. This, I think, is the very place to hear them early, a dry hillside sloping to the south, covered with young wood and shrub oaks. 

I am the more attracted to that house as a dwelling-place. To live where you would hear he first brown thrasher! First, perchance, you have a glimpse of one’s ferruginous long brown back, instantly lost amid the shrub oaks, and are uncertain if it was a thrasher, or one of the other thrushes; and your uncertainty lasts commonly a day or two, until its rich and varied strain is heard. 

Surveying seemed a noble employment which brought me within hearing of this bird. I was trying to get the exact course of a wall thickly beset with shrub oaks and birches, making an opening through them with axe and knife, while the hillside seemed to quiver or pulsate with the sudden melody. 

Again, it is with the side of the ear that you hear. The music or the beauty belong not to your work itself but some of its accompaniments. You would fain devote yourself to the melody, but you will hear more of it if you devote yourself to your work. 

June 30, 2017

Cutting off the limbs of a young white pine in the way of my compass, I find that it strips freely. How long this? By the time I have run through to the Harvard road, I hear the small pewee’s tche-vet’ repeatedly.

The Italian with his hand-organ stops to stare at my compass, just as the boys are curious about his machine. We have exchanged places. 

As I go along the Assabet, a peetweet skims away from the shore. 

The canoe birch sap still flows. It is much like that of the white, and is now pink, white, and yellow on the bark. 

Bluets out on the bank by Tarbell’s spring brook, maybe a day or two.

This was a very warm as well as pleasant day, but at one o’clock there was the usual fresh easterly wind and sea-turn, and before night it grew quite cold for the season. The regularity of the recurrence of this phenomenon is remarkable. I have noticed it, at least, on the 24th late in the day, the 28th and the 29th about 3 P. M., and to-day at 1 P. M. It has been the order. 

Early in the afternoon, or between one and four, the wind changes (I suppose, though I did not notice its direction in the forenoon), and a fresh cool wind from the sea produces a mist in the air. 

About 3.30 P. M., when it was quite cloudy as well as raw, and I was measuring along the river just south of the bridge, I was surprised by the great number of swallows—white-bellied and barn swallows and perhaps republican — flying round and round, or skimming very low over the meadow, just laid bare, only a foot above the ground. 

Either from the shape of the hollow or their circling, they seemed to form a circular flock three or four rods in diameter and one swallow, deep. There were two or three of these centres and some birds equally low over the river. It looked like rain, but did not rain that day or the next. Probably their insect food was flying at that height over the meadow at that time. 

There were a thousand or more of swallows, and I think that they had recently arrived together on their migration. Only this could account for there being so many together. We were measuring through one little circular meadow, and many of them were not driven off by our nearness. The noise of their wings and their twittering was quite loud.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal,  April 30, 1856


You have a glimpse of one’s ferruginous long brown back, instantly lost amid the shrub oaks, and are uncertain if it was a thrasher; and your uncertainty lasts commonly a day or two, until its rich and varied strain is heard.  See May 3, 1852 ("Hear the first brown thrasher, — two of them.  They drown all the rest. He says cherruwit, cherruwit ; go ahead, go ahead; give it to him, give it to him. ");  May 4, 1859 ("We hear a thrasher sing for half an hour steadily, — a very rich singer and heard a quarter of a mile off very distinct . . . He sings as if conscious of his power.");  May 12, 1855 (“The brown thrasher is a powerful singer; he is a quarter of a mile off across the river, when he sounded within fifteen rods.”) See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Brown Thrasher

Again, it is with the side of the ear that you hear. . . . you will hear more of it if you devote yourself to your work. See November 18, 1851 ("The man who is bent upon his work is frequently in the best attitude to observe what is irrelevant to his work.”); November 20, 1851 ("Hard and steady and engrossing labor with the hands, especially out of doors, is invaluable to the literary man and serves him directly. Here I have been for six days surveying in the woods, and yet when I get home at evening, somewhat weary at last, and beginning to feel that I have nerves, I find myself more susceptible than usual to the finest influences, as music and poetry. The very air can intoxicate me, or the least sight or sound, as if my finer senses had acquired an appetite by their fast.");  June 14, 1853 (“You see those rare sights with the unconscious side of the eye, which you could not see by a direct gaze before.”); April 12, 1854 ("I observe that it is when I have been intently, and it may be laboriously, at work, and am somewhat listless or abandoned after it, reposing, that the muse visits me, and I see or hear beauty."); December 11, 1855 ("Beauty and music are not mere traits and exceptions. They are the rule and character. It is the exception that we see and hear. “);  April 28, 1856 ("I am reminded of the advantage to the poet, and philosopher, and naturalist, and whomsoever, of pursuing from time to time some other business than his chosen one, — seeing with the side of the eye. The poet will so get visions which no deliberate abandonment can secure. The philosopher is so forced to recognize principles which long study might not detect. And the naturalist even will stumble upon some new and unexpected flower or animal.”); May 12, 1857 (“Methinks I hear these sounds, have these reminiscences, only when well employed.”);April 15, 1859 (. If you yield for a moment to the impressions of sense, you hear some bird giving expression to its happiness in a pleasant strain. We are provided with singing birds and with ears to hear them ")

I hear the small pewee’s tche-vet’ repeatedly.  See . May 3, 1854 ("What I have called the small pewee on the willow by my boat, — quite small, uttering a short tchevet from time to time.”); May 3, 1855 ("Small pewee; tchevet, with a jerk of the head.”); May 7, 1852 ("The first small pewee sings now che-vet, or rather chirrups chevet, tche-vet — a rather delicate bird with a large head and two white bars on wings.) See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, ,the “Small Pewee" [Empidonax minimus]

As I go along the Assabet, a peetweet skims away from the shore. See May 2, 1859 ("The river seems really inhabited when the peetweet is back . . . This bird does not return to our stream until the weather is decidedly pleasant and warm. . . .Its note peoples the river, like the prattle of children once more in the yard of a house that has stood empty."); May 4, 1856 (“As soon as the rocks begin to be bare the peetweet comes and is seen teetering on them and skimming away from me.”) [Thoreau's Peetweet  is the Spotted Sandpiper  (Actitis macularia)]

Bluets out on the bank by Tarbell’s spring brook, maybe a day or two.  See April 24, 1857 ("Bluets numerous and fully out at the Smith hillside"); April 25, 1859 ("Bluets and potentilla are first noticed by me"); May 7, 1860 ("I saw bluets whitening the fields yesterday a quarter of a mile off. "); May 14, 1852 ("The grass is now whitened with bluets; the fields are green.")

Early in the afternoon . . . the wind changes and a fresh cool wind from the sea produces a mist in the air. See April 28, 1856 ("On our return the wind changed to easterly, and I felt the cool, fresh sea-breeze.");  April 29, 1856 ("About 3 P. M. I felt a fresh easterly wind, and saw quite a mist in the distance produced by it, a sea-turn,") See also  A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Sea-turn

The great number of swallows . . . flying round and round. See April 30, 1855 ("Circling about and flying . . . about six inches above the water, — it was cloudy and almost raining”); April 29, 1854 (" The barn swallows are very numerous, flying low over the water in the rain.”) and note to  April 29, 1856 ("Barn swallows and chimney, with white-bellied swallows, are flying together over the river."); See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The White-bellied Swallow

April 30. See A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, April 30

Sudden melody –

absorbed in my work I hear 

my first brown thrasher.

Early afternoon

a fresh cool wind from the sea –

a mist in the air.

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Hearing with the side of the Ear

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-560430

Bluets whiten the fields, and violets are now perhaps in prime.

May 21

P. M. —To Island. 

Salix nigra leafs. 

Is that plump blue-backed, rufous rumped swallow the cliff swallow, flying with barn swallows, etc., over the river? Nuttall apparently so describes it. It dashes within a foot of me. 

Lambkill leaf, a day or two. Choke-berry pollen; perhaps a day or more elsewhere. Viola palmata pretty common, apparently two or three days. Some button bush begins to leaf. Cranberry well started; shoots three quarters of an inch. 

dog-tooth violet
May 21, 2017

Bluets whiten the fields, and violets are now perhaps in prime. 

Very cold to-day; cold weather, indeed, from the 20th to 23d inclusive. Sit by fires, and sometimes wear a greatcoat and expect frosts.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, May 21, 1855

Is that plump blue-backed, rufous rumped swallow the cliff swallow, flying with barn swallows, etc., over the river? See April 30, 1856 ("I was surprised by the great number of swallows—white-bellied and barn swallows and perhaps republican — flying round and round, or skimming very low over the meadow. . .There were a thousand or more of swallows, and I think that they had recently arrived together on their migration.");  May 4, 1856 (“Among others, I see republican swallows flying over river at Island”); May 11, 1856 ("There are many swallows circling low over the river behind Monroe’s, — bank swallows, barn, republican, chimney, and white-bellied. These are all circling together a foot or two over the water, passing within ten or twelve feet of me in my boat."); May 20, 1858 (“Hundreds of swallows are now skimming close over the river. . .. There are bank, barn, cliff, and chimney swallows, all mingled together.”); May 20, 1858 (“The cliff swallow, then, is here.”)

Lambkill leaf, a day or two. See May 26, 1855 ("The lambkill is just beginning to be flower-budded");  June 9, 1855 ("Lambkill out"); .June 10, 1855 ("The Kalmia glauca is done before the lambkill is begun here."); June 13, 1852 ("Lambkill is out. I remember with what delight I used to discover this flower in dewy mornings."); );June 13, 1854 ("How beautiful the solid cylinders of the lamb-kill now just before sunset, ") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Lambkill (Kalmia augustifolia)

Bluets whiten the fields, and violets are now perhaps in prime. See May 7,1860 ("I saw bluets whitening the fields yesterday a quarter of a mile off. They are to the sere brown grass what the shad-bush is now to the brown and bare sprout lands."); May 14, 1852 ("The grass is now whitened with bluets; the fields are green.")

Very cold to-day; cold weather, indeed. See May 21, 1860 (“Cold, at 11 A.M. 50°; and sit by a fire”)

The witch-hazel at Lee's Cliff.

September 29.

Cool and windy. Wind roars in the trees. 

Viola cucullata, Aster puniceus and longifolius still.

Solidago speciosa out in Hubbard's Swamp since I went away, say ten days ago. This must be a late one, then. 

Diplopappus linariifolius, Aster undulatus, and a few small ones.  

Red oak acorns fall.

The witch-hazel at Lee's Cliff, in a fair situation, has but begun to blossom; has not been long out, so that I think it must be later than the gentian. Its leaves are yellowed.

Barberry ripe.

Sumachs and maples changed, but not trees generally.

Bluets still.

Viburnum Lentago berries yet.

Lambkill blossoms again.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, September 29, 1853

Viola cucullata. See September 9, 1858 ("Many Viola cucullata have opened again"); September 12, 1851 ("Found a violet, apparently Viola cucullata, or hood-leaved violet, in bloom in Baker's Meadow beyond Pine Hill."); September 28, 1852 ("I find the hood-leaved violet quite abundant in a meadow, and the pedata in the Boulder Field.  I have now seen all but the blanda, palmata, and pubescens blooming again. . . This is the commencement, then, of the second spring. Violets, Potentilla Canadensis, lambkill, wild rose, yellow lily, etc., etc., begin again") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Violets

Aster puniceus and longifolius still. See August 30, 1856 ("The Aster puniceus is hardly yet in prime; its great umbel-shaped tops not yet fully out"); September 1, 1856 ("A. longifolius, hardly one seen yet.”); September 15, 1856 ("Aster longifolius and puniceus . . . in prime"); . October 7, 1857 ("Crossing Depot Brook, I see many yellow butterflies fluttering about the Aster puniceus, still abundantly in bloom there.");  October 8, 1856 ("Of asters, only corymbosus, undulatus, Tradescanti, and longifolius . . .are common."); October 30, 1853 ("Along the Depot Brook, the great heads of Aster puniceus stand dry and fuzzy and singularly white, — like the goldenrods and other asters, — but some quite low are still green and in flower"); November 3, 1853 ("The Aster puniceus by brook is still common, though the worse for the wear, — low and more recent ones, — so that this, though a week ago it was less prevalent, must be set down as later than the A. undulatus. It bears the frosts much better, though it has been exposed to more severe ones from its position. And with this must be included that smooth and narrower- leaved kind, in other respects the same, one of which, at least, I think I have called A. longifolius. They seem to run into each other. I am inclined to think it a smoother A. longifolius"); November 5. 1855 ("Crossing the Depot Field Brook, I observe the downy, fuzzy globular tops of the Aster puniceus. They are slightly tinged with yellow, compared with the hoary gray of the goldenrod")

Solidago speciosa. . .This must be a late one. See September 15, 1854 (“Solidago speciosa at Clamshell out several days”); . September 27, 1856 (“To Clamshell by boat. Solidago speciosa not quite out!!”) October 2, 1856 ("Solidago speciosa completely out, though not a flower was out September 27th)

Diplopappus linariifolius, Aster undulatus, and a few small ones. See  August 27, 1853 ("Aster undulatus."); August 22, 1859 ("The savory-leaved aster (Diplopappus linariifolius) out; how long?");  September 10, 1854 ("Diplopappus linariifolius and Aster undulatus apparently now in prime."); September 18, 1856 ("Diplopappus linariifolius in prime.");  September 20, 1852 ("Aster undulatus, or variable aster, with a large head of middle-sized blue flowers."); September 29,1853 September 30, 1852 ("We then took the path to Clematis Brook on the north of Mt. Misery, where we found a few of the Diplopappus linariifolius ( savory-leaved aster ) and one or two small white (bushy ?) asters, also A. undulatus");  October 6, 1858 ("the Aster undulatus is now very fair and interesting. Generally a tall and slender plant with a very long panicle of middle-sized lilac or paler purple flowers, bent over to one side the path. "); October 25, 1858 ("The Aster undulatus is now a dark purple (its leaves), with brighter purple or crimson under sides.");   November 3, 1858 ("Aster undulatus is still freshly in bloom"); November 7, 1858 ("Aster undulatus and several goldenrods, at least, may be found yet."); November 7, 1858 ("The Diplopappus linariifolius, which was yellow in the shade, in open and sunny places is purple.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Savory-leaved aster 

 

Red oak acorns fall. See September 12, 1854 (“The red oak began to fall first.”); October 12, 1858 (“Acorns, red and white (especially the first), appear to be fallen or falling")

The witch-hazel at Lee's Cliff must be later than the gentian. See September 29, 1857 ("I hear that some have gathered fringed gentian."); See also  September 18, 1854 ("Fringed gentian near Peter’s out a short time, . . ., it may after all be earlier than the hazel.”); September 18, 1856 ("Unquestionably the gentian is now far more generally out here than the hazel."); September 18, 1859 ("From the observation of this year I should say that the fringed gentian opened before the witch-hazel"); October 1, 1858 ("The fringed gentians are now in prime."); October 2, 1853 ("The gentian in Hubbard's Close is frost-bitten extensively. As the witch-hazel is raised above frost and can afford to be later, for this reason also I think it is so.")  See also 

Witch-hazel in prime,

Yellow leaves by their color

conceal the flowers.

October 4, 1858

 October 4, 1858 ("Witch-hazel apparently at height of change, yellow below, green above, the yellow leaves by their color concealing the flowers. The flowers, too, are apparently in prime. The leaves are often richly spotted reddish and greenish brown. ") And also A Book of the Seasons by Henry Thoreau, The Fringed Gentian; A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Witch-Hazel

Barberry ripe. See September 29, 1854 ("Now is the time to gather barberries"); --  See also August 23, 1853 ("Barberries have begun to redden,");  September 12, 1851 ("The pendulous, drooping barberries are pretty well reddened. I am glad when the berries look fair and plump"); September 13, 1856 ("The barberries are abundant there, and already handsomely red, though not much more than half turned"); September 13, 1852 ("The barberries, now reddening, begin to show.”). September 16, 1852 ("The barberries are red."); September 16. 1857 ("Barberries very handsome now. See boys gathering them in good season.").; September 18, 1856 ("The barberries are not fairly turned"); September 22, 1851 (" the red drooping barberries sparkle amid the leaves."); September 24, 1859 ("A great many have improved this first fair day to come a-barberrying to the Easterbrooks fields."); September 28, 1856 ("How many fruits are scarlet now! — barberries, prinos, etc.");  September 28, 1859 ("Children are now gathering barberries, — just the right time"); October 5, 1857 ("Many are now gathering barberries."); October 18, 1857 ("I see many robins on barberry bushes, probably after berries."); October 20, 1857 ("The barberry bushes are now alive with, I should say, thousands of robins feeding on them.")

Sumachs and maples changed, but not trees generally. See September 20, 1852 (“The smooth sumachs are turning conspicuously and generally red, apparently from frost, and here and there is a whole maple tree red, about water.”)

Bluets still. See August 26, 1856 ("Bluets still.")

Viburnum Lentago berries yet. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Viburnum lentago (nannyberry)

Lambkill blossoms again. See September 10, 1857 ("I see lambkill ready to bloom a second time.”); September 19, 1852 ("The Viola lanceolata has blossomed again, and the lambkill."); September 28, 1852 ("This is the commencement, then, of the second spring. Violets, Potentilla Canadensis, lambkill, wild rose, yellow lily, etc., etc., begin again") 

The song of the robin is most suggestive in cloudy weather.

May 14

First kingbird. Its voice and flight relate it to the swallow. 

The maple-keys are already formed, though the male blossoms (on different trees) are not withered.

Going over the Corner causeway, the willow blossoms fill the air with a sweet fragrance, and I am ready to sing, Ah! willow, willow! These willows have yellow bark, bear yellow flowers and yellowish-green leaves, and are now haunted by the summer yellowbird and Maryland yellow-throat. 

They see this now conspicuous mass of yellowish verdure at a distance and fly to it. Single large willows at distance are great nosegays of yellow. This orchard precedes the peach and apple weeks. 

The Salix nigra (?) is leafing out now with its catkins appearing.

The sounds and sights — as birds and flowers — heard and seen at those seasons when there are fewest are most memorable and suggestive of poetic associations.

 The trillium is budded. 

bellwort
May 14, 2017

The Uvularia sessilifolio, a drooping flower with tender stems and leaves; the latter curled so as to show their under sides hanging about the stems, as if shrinking from the cold.

The Ranunculus bulbosus  shows its yellow by this spring thus early (Corner Spring).

The grass is now whitened with bluets; the fields are green, and the roadsides. (I am on the C. Miles road.) Now is the season to travel.

The deciduous trees are rapidly investing the evergreens, making the woods rich and bosky by degrees. 

The robin sings this louring day. They sang most in and about that great freshet storm. The song of the robin is most suggestive in cloudy weather. 

I have not heard any toads during this rain (of which this is the third day), and very few peepers. 

The beautiful birch catkins hang down four inches.

Saw a whip-poor-will sitting in the path in woods on the mill road, — the brown mottled bird. It flutters off blindly, with slow, soft flight. 

Most birds are silent in the storm. Hear the robin, oven-bird, night warbler, and, at length, the towhee's towee, chickadee's phoebe, and a preluding thrasher and a jay.

H. D. Thoreau,  Journal, May 14, 1852

The Uvularia sessilifolio, a drooping flower with tender stems and leaves. See  May 16, 1852 ("When you turn up the drooping flower, its petals make a perfect geometrical figure, a six-pointed star.") See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, the Bellworts

The Ranunculus bulbosus shows it by this spring thus early (Corner Spring)s yellow. See May 14, 1853 ("The glossy or varnished yellow of buttercups (bulbosus, also abundant, some days out) spots the hillside.") See also May 17, 1856 ("Ranunculus bulbosils a day or two at least.")May 29, 1859 ("The Ranunculus bulbosus are apparently in prime."); May 29, 1857 ("Ranunculus bulbosus in bloom.");

The deciduous trees are rapidly investing the evergreens, making the woods rich and bosky by degrees. See May 18, 1852 ("They are now being invested with the light, sunny, yellowish-green of the deciduous trees.”) May 22, 1855 ("The deciduous trees leafing begin to clothe or invest the evergreens.”); June 9, 1852 (“The deciduous trees have filled up the intervals between the evergreens, and the woods are bosky now.”)

The song of the robin is most suggestive in cloudy weather. See April 26, 1855 ("We see and hear more birds than usual this mizzling and still day, and the robin sings with more vigor and promise than later in the season.”) See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Robins in Spring

May 14. See A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, May 14.

The sounds and sights of

birds and flowers heard and seen

when they are fewest.