The goldenrods resound with the hum of bees.

September 9.

Yesterday and to-day have felt about as hot as any weather this year.

The potato-balls lie ripe in the fields.

The groundsel down is in the air.

The last day of August I saw a sharp-nosed green grasshopper.

The goldenrods resound with the hum of bees and other insects.

Methinks the little leaves now springing, which I have called mullein, must be fragrant everlasting (?).

I believe that I occasionally hear a hylodes within a day or two.

In front of Cæsar's, the Crotalaria sagittalis, rattle-pod, still in bloom, though the seeds are ripe; probably began in July.

Also by Cæsar's well, Liatris scariosa, handsome rose-purple, with the aspect of a Canada thistle at a distance, or a single vernonia. Referred to August. Ah! the beauty of the liatris bud just bursting into bloom, the rich fiery rose-purple, like that of the sun at his rising. Some call it button snakeroot.

Those crotalaria pods would make pretty playthings for children.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, September 9, 1852

 
The goldenrods resound with the hum of bees and other insects. See August 21, 1852 ("The bees, wasps, etc. are on the goldenrods, improving their time before the sun of the year sets."); August 30, 1859 ("Now that flowers are rarer, almost every one of whatever species has bees or butterflies upon it."); 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."); October 12, 1856 ("It is interesting to see how some of the few flowers which still linger are frequented by bees and other insects. ")

I believe that I occasionally hear a hylodes within a day or two. See October 2, 1859 ("Hear a hylodes in the swamp."); October 3, 1852 ("I hear a hylodes (?) from time to time."); October 3, 1858 ("Hear a hylodes peeping on shore."):October 23, 1853 ("Many phenomena remind me that now is to some extent a second spring, — not only the new-springing and blossoming of flowers, but the peeping of the hylodes for some time,")

By Cæsar's well, Liatris scariosa, handsome rose-purple, with the aspect of a Canada thistle at a distance, or a single vernonia. See August 1, 1856 (" Liatris will apparently open in a day or two."); August 9, 1853 ("At Peter's well . I also find one or two heads of the liatris . . . .. It has the aspect of a Canada thistle at a little distance."); September 6, 1859 ("The liatris is, perhaps, a little past prime. It is a very rich purple in favorable lights and makes a great show where it grows. . . . For prevalence and effect it may be put with the vernonia, and it has a general resemblance to thistles and knapweed, but is a handsomer plant than any of them.") ; September 28, 1858 ("Liatris done, apparently some time.")  See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Liatris

Those crotalaria pods would make pretty playthings for children. See August 1, 1856 ("Crotalaria . . . some pods fully grown. "); October 3, 1856 ("I detect the crotalaria . . . by hearing the now rattling seeds in its pods as I go through the grass, like the trinkets about an Indian's leggins, or a rattlesnake.");  October 3, 1858 ("As I go through the Cut, I discover a new locality for the crotalaria, being attracted by the pretty blue-black pods"); October 3, 1858 ("It is interesting to consider how that crotalaria spreads itself, sure to find out the suitable soil. One year I find it on the Great Fields and think it rare; the next I find it in a new and unexpected place. It flits about like a flock of sparrows, from field to field.")

Liatris blooming

rich fiery rose-purple

like the sun rising.

The rhexia is seen afar on the islets.

July 23.

P. M. – To P. Hutchinson's.

I cannot find a single crotalaria pod there this year.

Stone-crop is abundant and has now for some time been out at R. Brown's watering-place; also the water plantain, which is abundant there.

About the water further north the elodea is very common, and there, too, the rhexia is seen afar on the islets, — its brilliant red like a rose. It is fitly called meadow-beauty. Is it not the handsomest and most striking and brilliant flower since roses and lilies began? 

rhexia virginica

Blue vervain out some days. 

blue vervain

Bathing yesterday in the Assabet, I saw that many breams, apparently an old one with her young of various sizes, followed my steps and found their food in the water which I had muddied. The old one pulled lustily at a Potamogeton hybridus, drawing it off one side horizontally with her mouth full, and then swallowed what she tore off.

The young pouts were two and a half inches long in Flint's Pond the 17th.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, July 23, 1853

I cannot find a single crotalaria pod there this year. See October 3, 1858 ("It is interesting to consider how that crotalaria spreads itself, sure to find out the suitable soil. One year I find it on the Great Fields and think it rare; the next I find it in a new and unexpected place. It flits about like a flock of sparrows, from field to field.")

Water plantain, abundant. See July 19, 1853 ("The alisma will open to-morrow or next day")

About the water further north the elodea is very common.  See July 22, 1853 ("The elodea out."): see also June 13, 1858 ("One of the prevailing front-rank plants [in Ledump Swmp], standing in the sphagnum and water, is the elodea. "); July 31, 1856 ("Elodea two and a half feet high, how long? The flowers at 3 p. m. nearly shut, cloudy as it is. Yet the next day, later, I saw some open, I think"); August 11, 1858 ("Saw the elodea (not long) . . . at Beck Stow’s")

The rhexia is seen afar on the islets. See July 18, 1852 ("The petals of the rhexia have a beautiful clear purple with a violet tinge."); August 1, 1856 (" They make a splendid show, these brilliant rose-colored patches . .  Yet few ever see them in this perfection, unless the haymaker who levels them, or the birds that fly over the meadow. Far in the broad wet meadows, on the hummocks and ridges, these bright beds of rhexia turn their faces to the heavens, seen only by the bitterns and other meadow birds that fly over. We, dwelling and walking on the dry upland, do not suspect their existence..") See also   A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Rhexia Virginica (meadow-beauty)

Blue vervain. See August 6, 1852 ("Blue vervain is now very attractive to me, and then there is that interesting progressive history in its rising ring of blossoms. It has a story.")

An old bream with her young of various sizes, followed my steps and found their food in the water. See November 30, 1858 ("The bream, appreciated, floats in the pond as the centre of the system, another image of God. Its life no man can explain more than he can his own.")

The young pouts were two and a half inches long.  See July 15, 1856 ("wading into the shallow entrance of the meadow, I saw a school of a thousand little pouts about three quarters of an inch long")

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

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 © 2009-2021

The maples about Walden are quite handsome now.

October 3. 

One brings me this morning a Carolina rail alive, this year’s bird evidently from its marks. He saved it from a cat in the road near'the Battle-Ground. On being taken up, it peeked a little at first, but was soon quiet. It staggers about as if weak on my window sill and pecks at the glass, or stands with its eyes shut, half asleep, and its back feathers hunched up. Possibly it is wounded. I suspect it may have been hatched here. Its feet are large and spreading, qualifying it to run on mud or pads. Its crown is black, but chin white, and its back feathers are distinctly edged with white in streaks. 

I compare my hazelnuts gathered some time ago. The beaked are pointed nuts, while the common are blunt; and the former are a much paler brown, also have a yellower and much sweeter meat. 

A fringed gentian, plucked day before yesterday, at length, this forenoon, untwists and turns its petals partially, in my chamber.

Have noticed a very brilliant scarlet blackberry patch within a week. 

The red maples which changed first, along the river, are now faded and partly fallen. They look more pink. But others are lit, and so there is more color than before. Some particular maple among a hundred will be of a peculiarly bright and pure scarlet, and, by its difference of tint and intenser color, attract our eyes even at a distance in the midst of the crowd. Looking all around Fair Haven Pond yesterday, where the maples were glowing amid the evergreens, my eyes invariably rested on a particular small maple of the purest and intensest scarlet. 

P. M. — Paddle about Walden. 

As I go through the Cut, I discover a new locality for the crotalaria, being attracted by the pretty blue-black pods, now ripe and dangling in profusion from these low plants, on the bare sandy and gravelly slope of the Cut. The vines or plants are but half a dozen times longer (or higher) than the pods. It was the contrast of these black pods with the yellowish sand which betrayed them.

How many men have a fatal excess of manner! There was one came to our house the other evening, and behaved very simply and well till the moment he was passing out the door. He then suddenly put on the airs of a well-bred man, and consciously described some are of beauty or other with his head or hand. It was but a slight flourish, but it has put me on the alert. 

It is interesting to consider how that crotalaria spreads itself, sure to find out the suitable soil. One year I find it on the Great Fields and think it rare; the next I find it in a new and unexpected place. It flits about like a flock of sparrows, from field to field. 

The maples about Walden are quite handsome now. Standing on the railroad, I look across the pond to Pine Hill, where the outside trees and the shrubs scattered generally through the wood glow through the green, yellow, and scarlet, like fires just kindled at the base of the trees, — a general conflagration just fairly under way, soon to envelop every tree. The hillside forest is all aglow along its edge and in all its cracks and fissures, and soon the flames will leap upward to the tops of the tallest trees. About the pond I see maples of all their tints, and black birches (on the southwest side) clear pale yellow; and on the peak young chestnut clumps and walnuts are considerably yellowed. 

I hear, out toward the middle, or a dozen rods from me, the plashing made apparently by the shiners, — for they look and shine like them, — leaping in schools on the surface. Many lift themselves quite out for a foot or two, but most rise only part way out, — twenty black points at once. There are several schools indulging in this sport from time to time as they swim slowly along. This I ascertain by paddling out to them. Perhaps they leap and dance in the water just as gnats dance in the air at present. I have seen it before in the fall. Is it peculiar to this season? 

Hear a hylodes peeping on shore. 

A general reddening now of young and scrub oaks. Some chinquapin bright-red. 

White pines fairly begin to change. 

The large leaves of some black oak sprouts are dark-purple, almost blackish, above, but greenish beneath. 

See locust leaves all crisped by frost in Laurel Glen Hollow, but only part way up the bank, as on the shore of a lake.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, October 3, 1858

A Carolina rail alive. Its crown is black, but chin white, and its back feathers are distinctly edged with white in streaks. Compare September 18, 1858 ("In R. Virginianus. . . the crown and whole upper parts are black, streaked with brown; the throat, breast, and belly, orange-brown; sides and vent, black tipped with white; legs and feet, dark red-brown; none of which is true of the R. Carolinus.")

The beaked are pointed nuts, while the common are blunt. See September 9, 1858 ("I find an abundance of beaked hazelnuts at Blackberry Steep, one to three burs together, but, gathering them, I get my fingers full of fine shining bristles, while the common hazel burs are either smooth or covered with a softer glandular down; i. e., its horns are brazen tipped.")

A fringed gentian, plucked day before yesterday, at length, this forenoon, untwists and turns its petals partially, in my chamber.See October 1, 1858 ("The fringed gentians are now in prime. . . .They who see them closed, or in the afternoon only, do not suspect their beauty.")

Have noticed a very brilliant scarlet blackberry patch within a week. See September 23, 1854 ("Low blackberry vines generally red. "); September 25, 1854 ("I am detained by the very bright red blackberry leaves strewn along the sod")

Some particular maple among a hundred will be of a peculiarly bright and pure scarlet, and, by its difference of tint and intenser color, attract our eyes even at a distance in the midst of the crowd. See September 25, 1857 (“A single tree becomes the crowning beauty of some meadowy vale and attracts the attention of the traveller from afar.”); September 26, 1854 ("Some single red maples are very splendid now, the whole tree bright-scarlet against the cold green pines; now, when very few trees are changed, a most remarkable object in the landscape; seen a mile off. "); September 27, 1855 ("Some single red maples now fairly make a show along the meadow. I see a blaze of red reflected from the troubled water.");  September 27, 1857 (“At last, its labors for the year being consummated and every leaf ripened to its full, it flashes out conspicuous to the eye of the most casual observer, with all the virtue and beauty of a maple, – Acer rubrum.”); October 8, 1852 (“Nothing can exceed the brilliancy of some of the maples which stand by the shore and extend their red banners over the water.”);)

I discover a new locality for the crotalaria, being attracted by the pretty blue-black pods, now ripe and dangling in profusion from these low plants, on the bare sandy and gravelly slope of the Cut. See October 3, 1856 ("I detect the crotalaria behind the Wyman site, by hearing the now rattling seeds in its pods as I go through the grass, like the trinkets about an Indian's leggins, or a rattlesnake.")

Hear a hylodes peeping on shore. See October 3, 1852 ("I hear a hylodes (?) from time to time.")

 White pines fairly begin to change. See October 3, 1852 ("The pine fall, i.e. change, is commenced, and the trees are mottled green and yellowish."); October 3, 1856 ("The white pines are now getting to be pretty generally parti-colored, the lower yellowing needles ready to fall.") See also November 9, 1850 (" I expect to find that it is only for a few weeks in the fall after the new leaves have done growing that there are any yellow and falling, — that there is a season when we may say the old pine leaves are now yellow, and again, they are fallen."); See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The October Pine Fall

  

Hillsides about Walden begin to wear autumnal tints in the cooler air.

October 3. 

The white pines are now getting to be pretty generally parti-colored, the lower yellowing needles ready to fall. 

The sumachs are generally crimson (darker than scarlet), and young trees and bushes by the water and meadows are generally beginning to glow red and yellow. 

Especially the hillsides about Walden begin to wear these autumnal tints in the cooler air. These lit leaves, this glowing, bright-tinted shrubbery, is in singular harmony with the dry, stony shore of this cool and deep well. 

The frost keeps off remarkably. I have seen none, though I hear that there was some two or three mornings ago. 

I detect the crotalaria behind the Wyman site, by hearing the now rattling seeds in its pods as I go through the grass, like the trinkets about an Indian's leggins, or a rattlesnake.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, October 3, 1856

The white pines . . .parti-colored, the lower yellowing needles ready to fall. See October 3, 1852 ("The pine fall, i.e. change, is commenced, and the trees are mottled green and yellowish."); October 3, 1858 ("White pines fairly begin to change.")  See also November 9, 1850 (" I expect to find that it is only for a few weeks in the fall after the new leaves have done growing that there are any yellow and falling, — that there is a season when we may say the old pine leaves are now yellow, and again, they are fallen."); See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The October Pine Fall

Especially the hillsides about Walden begin to wear these autumnal tints in the cooler air. See October 1, 1852 ("The young and tender trees begin to assume the autumnal tints more generally,"); October 1, 1854 ("The young black birches about Walden, next the south shore, are now commonly clear pale yellow, very distinct at distance, like bright-yellow white birches, so slender amid the dense growth of oaks and evergreens on the steep shores. ");  October 3, 1858 ("About the pond I see maples of all their tints, and black birches (on the southwest side) clear pale yellow; and on the peak young chestnut clumps and walnuts are considerably yellowed.")

The frost keeps off remarkably . . . Compare October 1, 1860 ("Remarkable frost and ice this morning . . . I do not remember such cold at this season.").

I detect the crotalaria . . . by hearing the now rattling seeds in its pods . See August 1, 1856 ("Crotalaria . . .out, and some pods fully grown."); October 3, 1858 ("As I go through the Cut, I discover a new locality for the crotalaria, being attracted by the pretty blue-black pods")

I love this moisture in its season.

Rhexia virgini

August 1. 

Burdock, several days at least. Erechthites, apparently two or three days, by Peter's Path, end of Cemetery, the middle flowers first.

Crotalaria in fine lechea field, how long? Still out, and some pods fully grown. 

Liatris will apparently open in a day or two. 

Diplopappus umbellatus at Peter's wall. Desmodium Canadense, some time; several great stems five feet high, a little spreading. 

August 01, 2016

Since July 30th, inclusive, we have had perfect dog-days without interruption. The earth has suddenly invested with a thick musty mist. The sky has become a mere fungus. A thick blue musty veil of mist is drawn before the sun. The sun has not been visible, except for a moment or two once or twice a day, all this time, nor the stars by night. Moisture reigns. 

You cannot dry a napkin at the window, nor press flowers without their mildewing. You imbibe so much moisture from the atmosphere that you are not so thirsty, nor is bathing so grateful as a week ago. The burning heat is tempered, but as you lose sight of the sky and imbibe the musty, misty air, you exist as a vegetable, a fungus. 

Unfortunate those who have not got their hay. I see them wading in overflowed meadows and pitching fthe black and mouldy swaths about in vain that they may dry. In the meanwhile, vegetation is becoming rank, vines of all kinds are rampant. Squashes and melons are said to grow a foot in a night. But weeds grow as fast. The corn unrolls. Berries abound and attain their full size. 

Once or twice in the day there is an imperfect gleam of yellow sunlight for a moment through some thinner part of the veil, reminding us that we have not seen the sun so long, but no blue sky is revealed. The earth is completely invested with cloud like wreaths of vapor (yet fear no rain and need no veil), beneath which flies buzz hollowly and torment, and mosquitoes hum and sting as if they were born of such an air. 

The drooping spirits of mosquitoes revive, and they whet their stings anew. Legions of buzzing flies blacken the furniture. (For a week at least have heard that snapping sound under pads.) We have a dense fog every night, which lifts itself but a short distance during the day. At sundown I see it curling up from the river and meadows. 

However, I love this moisture in its season. I believe it is good to breathe, wholesome as a vapor bath.

Toadstools shoot up in the yards and paths. 

The Great Meadows being a little wet, — hardly so much as usual, — I took off my shoes and went barefoot some two miles through the cut-grass, from Peter's to Sphaerocarpa Pools and backward by river. Very little grass cut there yet. The cut-grass is bad for tender feet, and you must be careful not to let it draw through your hands, for it will cut like a fine saw. 

I was surprised to see dense beds of rhexia in full bloom there, apparently on hummocks a rod in diameter left by the ice, or in long ridges mixed with ferns and some Lysimachia lanceolata, arrowhead, etc. They make a splendid show, these brilliant rose-colored patches, especially in the neighborhood of Copan. It is about the richest color to be seen now. Yet few ever see them in this perfection, unless the haymaker who levels them, or the birds that fly over the meadow. 

Far in the broad wet meadows, on the hummocks and ridges, these bright beds of rhexia turn their faces to the heavens, seen only by the bitterns and other meadow birds that fly over. We, dwelling and walking on the dry upland, do not suspect their existence. How obvious and gay to those creatures that fly over the meadow! Seen only by birds and mowers. These gay standards otherwise unfurled in vain. 

Snake-head arethusa still in the meadow there. 

Ludwigia sphaerocarpa apparently a week out, a foot and a half to two feet high.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, August 1, 1856

Liatris will apparently open in a day or two See );August 26, 1858 ("The liatris is about (or nearly) in prime."); September 6, 1859 ("The liatris is, perhaps, a little past prime. It is a very rich purple in favorable lights and makes a great show where it grows."); September 28, 1858 ("Liatris done, apparently some time.").See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Liatris

Perfect dog-days without interruption. See July 30, 1856 (“This is a perfect dog-day. The atmosphere thick, mildewy, cloudy. It is difficult to dry anything. The sun is obscured, yet we expect no rain”)

Snake-head arethusa still in the meadow there. See July 7, 1856 ("The snake-head arethusa is now abundant amid the cranberries”) See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Snakemouth Orchid

Far in the broad wet meadows, on the hummocks and ridges, these bright beds of rhexia turn their faces to the heavens, seen only by the bitterns and other meadow birds that fly over. See July 18, 1852 ("The petals of the rhexia have a beautiful clear purple with a violet tinge."); and note to August 5, 1858 ("I cannot sufficiently admire the rhexia, one of the highest-colored purple flowers, but difficult to bring home in its perfection, with its fugacious petals.") See also  A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Rhexia Virginica (meadow-beauty)

Far in the meadows

 these bright beds of rhexia 

seen only by birds.