The month of chickadees and new-swollen buds.

November 2.


Tall buttercups, red clover, houstonias, Polygonum aviculare, still.

Those handsome red buds on often red-barked twigs, with some red leaves still left, appear to be blueberry buds.

The prinos berries also now attract me in the scarcity of leaves, its own all gone; its berries are apparently a brighter red for it.

The month of chickadees and new-swollen buds.

At long intervals I see or hear a robin still.

To Walden.

In the latter part of October the skaters and water bugs entirely disappear from the surface of the pond, and then and in November, when the weather is perfectly calm, it is almost absolutely as smooth as glass.

This afternoon a three-days' rain-storm is drawing to an end, though still overcast.

The air is quite still but misty, from time to time mizzling, and the pond is very smooth, and its surface difficult to distinguish, though it no longer reflects the bright tints of autumn but sombre colors only, — calm at the end of a storm, except here and there a slight glimmer or dimple, as if a few skaters which had escaped the frosts were still collected there, or a faint breeze there struck, or a few rain-drops fell there, or perchance the surface, being remarkably smooth, betrayed by circling dimples where a spring-welled up from below.

I paddled gently toward one of these places and was surprised to find myriads of small perch about five inches long sporting there, one after another rising to the surface and dimpling it, leaving bubbles on it. They were very handsome as they surrounded the boat, with their distinct transverse stripes, a rich brown color.

There were many such schools in the pond, as it were improving the short season before the ice would close their window. When I approached them suddenly with noise, they made a sudden plash and rippling with their tails in fright, and then took refuge in the depths. Suddenly the wind rose, the mist increased, and the waves rose, and still the perch leaped, but much higher, half out of water, a hundred black points, three inches long, at once above the surface.

The pond, dark before, was now a glorious and indescribable blue, mixed with dark, perhaps the opposite side of the wave, a sort of changeable or watered-silk blue, more cerulean if possible than the sky itself, which was now seen overhead. It required a certain division of the sight, however, to discern this. Like the colors on a steel sword-blade.

Slate - colored snowbirds (?) with a faint note.

The leaves which are not withered, whose tints are still fresh and bright, are now remarked in sheltered places. Plucked quite a handsome nosegay from the side of Heywood's Peak, - white and blue-stemmed goldenrods, asters (undulatus and ?).

I do not know whether the perch amuse themselves thus more in the fall than at any other time. In such transparent and apparently bottomless water their swimming impresses the beholder as a kind of flight or hovering, like a compact flock of birds passing be low one, just beneath his level on the right or left. What a singular experience must be theirs in their winter quarters, their long night, expecting when the sun will open their shutters! 

November 2, 2017

If you look discerningly, so as to see the reflection only, you see a most glorious light blue, in comparison with which the original dark green of the opposite side of the waves is but muddy.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, November 2, 1852

Tall buttercups, red clover, houstonias.  See October 26, 1855 ("I see a houstonia in bloom."); November 5, 1855 ("I see the shepherd’s-purse, hedge-mustard, and red clover, — November flowers."); November 14, 1852 ("Still yarrow, tall buttercup, and tansy."); November 23, 1852 ("Among the flowers which may be put down as lasting thus far, as I remember, in the order of their hardiness: yarrow, tansy (these very fresh and common) . . . and perhaps tall buttercup, etc."

Those handsome red buds on often red-barked twigs, with some red leaves still left, appear to be blueberry buds. See November 6, 1853 (“The remarkable roundish, plump red buds of the high blueberry.”); November 23, 1857 (“You distinguish it by its gray spreading mass; its light-gray bark, rather roughened; its thickish shoots, often crimson; and its plump, roundish red buds.”); November 25, 1858 ("See a few high blueberry buds which have fairly started, expanded into small red leaves, apparently within a few weeks.")

 

The month of chickadees and new-swollen buds. 

The chickadee

Hops near to me.

November 8, 1857

See November 9, 1850 (" The chickadees, if I stand long enough, hop nearer and nearer inquisitively, from pine bough to pine bough, till within four or five feet, occasionally lisping a note."); November 26, 1859 ("The chickadee is the bird of the wood the most unfailing.. . . At this season it is almost their sole inhabitant."); November 2, 1853 ("Among the buds, etc., etc., to be noticed now, remember the alder and birch catkins, so large and conspicuous, — on the alder, pretty red catkins dangling in bunches of three or four, — the minute red buds of the panicled andromeda, the roundish plump ones of the common hazel, the longish sharp ones of the witch-hazel, etc.") See also October 30, 1853 ("Now, now is the time to look at the buds.”); November 1, 1853 ("I notice the shad-bush conspicuously leafing out. Those long, narrow, pointed buds, prepared for next spring, have anticipated their time."); November 4, 1854 ("The shad-bush buds have expanded into small leaflets already.”); November 6, 1863 ( Noticing Buds); December 1, 1852 (“At this season I observe the form of the buds which are prepared for spring the large bright yellowish and reddish buds of the swamp-pink, the already downy ones of the Populus tremuloides and the willows, the red ones of the blueberry, the long, sharp ones of the amelanchier, the spear-shaped ones of the viburnum; also the catkins of the alders and birches."); January 12, 1855 ("Well may the tender buds attract us at this season, no less than partridges, for they are the hope of the year, the spring rolled up. The summer is all packed in them.,")

The pond, dark before, was now a glorious and indescribable blue, mixed with dark, . . .more cerulean if possible than the sky itself. See June 26, 1852 ("the smooth reflecting surface of woodland lakes in which the ice is just melted . . .blue or black or even hazel, deep or shallow, clear or turbid; green next the shore,");  August 27, 1852("Viewed from a hilltop, it is blue in the depths and green in the shallows, but from a boat it is seen to be a uniform dark green.”); September 1, 1852 ("Viewed from the hilltop, [Walden] reflects the color of the sky. Beyond the deep reflecting surface, near the shore, it is a vivid green."); October 9, 1858 ("The mountains are darker and distincter, and Walden, seen from this hill, darker blue. It is quite Novemberish."); and Walden ("Walden is blue at one time and green at another, even from the same point of view. Lying between the earth and the heavens, it partakes of the color of both. Viewed from a hill top it reflects the color of the sky, but near at hand it is of a yellowish tint next the shore where you can see the sand, then a; light green, which gradually deepens to a uniform dark green in the body of the pond. In some lights, viewed even from a hilltop, it is of a vivid green next the shore.”); Walden , The Pond in Winter ("Like the water, the Walden ice, seen near at hand, has a green tint, but at a distance is beautifully blue,") See also  January 24, 1852 (Walden and White Ponds are a vitreous greenish blue, like patches of the winter sky seen in the west before sundown)

In the latter part of October the skaters and water bugs entirely disappear from the surface of the pond [but I]  find myriads of small perch about five inches long sporting there See September 1, 1852 ("Paddling over it, I see large schools of perch only an inch long, yet easily distinguished by their transverse bars. This is a very warm and serene evening, and the surface of the pond is perfectly smooth except where the skaters dimple it, for at equal intervals they are scattered over its whole extent, and, looking west, they make a fine sparkle in the sun.")

So many men in the fields haying now. Yellow butterflies in the road.

July 22.

P. M. – To Annursnack.

The Chenopodium hybridum (?); at least its leaves are dark-green, rhomboidal, and heart-shaped.

The orchis and spikenard at Azalea Brook are not yet open.

The early roses are now about done, — the sweet briar quite, I think.

I see sometimes houstonias still.

The elodea out.

Boehmeria not yet.

On one account, at least, I enjoy walking in the fields less at this season than at any other; there are so many men in the fields haying now.

Observed, on the wild basil on Annursnack, small reddish butterflies which looked like a part of the plant. It has a singularly soft, velvety leaf.

Smooth sumach berries crimson there.

There is a kind of low blackberry which does not bear large fruit but very dense clusters, by wall-sides, shaded by the vine or other plants often, of clammy and strong-tasted berries.

Yellow butterflies in the road.

I find the Campanula Americana of the West naturalized in our garden.

Also a silene (?) without visibly viscid stem and with swollen joints; apparently the snapdragon catchfly otherwise. Leaves opposite, sessile, lanceolate.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, July 22, 1853

There are so many men in the fields haying now. Compare July 22, 1854 ("The hottest night, — the last. It was almost impossible to pursue any work out-of- doors yesterday. There were but few men to be seen out.") 

On the wild basil . . . small reddish butterflies which looked like a part of the plant. See July 22, 1852 ("Tansy is now conspicuous by the roadsides, covered with small red butterflies"): See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Small Red Butterfly

The orchis and spikenard at Azalea Brook are not yet open. See July 12, 1853 ("Spikenard, not quite yet.The green-flowered lanceolate-leafed orchis at Azalea Brook will soon flower.") The locally rare Spikenard (Aralia racemosa) that Thoreau saw near Azalea brook still persisted in 2007.~ Place Names of Henry David Thoreau in Concord, Massachusetts(and in Lincoln, Massachusetts) & Other Botanical Sites in Concord compiled by Ray Angelo./ See also May 31, 1853 ("I am going in search of the Azalea nudiflora")

Yellow butterflies in the road. See July 14, 1852 ("See to-day for the first time this season fleets of yellow butterflies in compact assembly in the road”); July 16, 1851 ("I see the yellow butterflies now gathered in fleets in the road, and on the flowers of the milkweed");   July 19, 1856 ("Fleets of yellow butterflies on road."); July 26, 1854 ("Today I see in various parts of the town the yellow butterflies in fleets in the road, on bare damp sand, twenty or more collected within a diameter of five or six inches in many places."); September 3, 1854 ("Even at this season I see some fleets of yellow butterflies in the damp road after the rain, as earlier."). See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Yellow Butterflies

July 22. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, July 22

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

A bullfrog trumps once

May 23

P. M. — To Heywood Spring. 

Sorrel well open on west side of railroad causeway against H. Wheeler’s land. 

Noticed the earliest willow catkins turned to masses of cotton yesterday; also a little of the mouse-ear down begins to be loose. 

Hear often and distinctly, apparently from H. Wheeler’s black spruce wood-lot, the phe phee-ar of the new muscicapa. Red-eye and wood thrush. 

Houstonias whiten the fields, and looked yesterday like snow, a sugaring of snow, on the side of Lee’s Hill. 

Heard partridges drum yesterday and to-day. 

Observed the pads yesterday just begun to spread out on the surface with wrinkled edges and here and there a bullet-like bud; the red white lily pads still more rare as yet. 

The stellaria at Heywood Spring must be the same with that near the E. Hosmer Spring, though the former has commonly fewer styles and rather slenderer leaves.  It appears to be the S. borealis, though the leaves are narrowly lanceolate; has three to seven styles; a few petals (cleft almost to the bottom) or none; pods, some larger than the calyx  and apparently ten-ribbed; petals, now about the length of the sepals.

May 23, 2022

After sunset on river. A warm summer-like night. A bullfrog trumps once. A large devil’s-needle goes by after sundown. 

The ring of toads is loud and incessant. It seems more prolonged than it is. I think it not more than two seconds in each case. 

At the same time I hear a low, stertorous, dry, but hard-cored note from some frog in the meadows and along the riverside; often heard in past years but not accounted for. Is it a Rana palustris? 

Dor-bugs hum in the yard, — and were heard against the windows some nights ago. The cat is springing into the air for them.

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

Willow catkins turned to masses of cotton yesterday; also a little of the mouse-ear down begins to be loose. See May 14, 1860 ("The order is, then, dandelion, elm seed, willow, and next, probably, mouse-ear down, i. e. of the more noticeable seeds. "); May 28, 1858 ("Saw the mouse-ear going to seed in Worcester the 23d."); see also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Mouse-ear

Hear often and distinctly, apparently from H. Wheeler’s black spruce wood-lot, the phe phee-ar of the new muscicapa. See May 23, 1854 ("The wood pewee sings now in the woods behind the spring in the heat of the day”). See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, the Eastern Wood-Pewee

Houstonias whiten the fields, and looked yesterday like snow. See May 14, 1853 ("Dandelions and houstonias, etc., spot the meadows with yellow and white."); May 20, 1852 ("The fields are white with houstonias, as they will soon be yellow with buttercups."); May 22, 1853 ("The crickets now first are generally heard. Houstonias whiten the fields and are now in their prime.")

Heard partridges drum yesterday and to-day. See February 22, 1855 ("He [Farmer] had seen a partridge drum standing on a wall. Said it stood very upright and produced the sound by striking its wings together behind its back, . . .but did not strike the wall nor its body."); April 19, 1860 ("Toward night, hear a partridge drum. You will hear at first a single beat or two far apart and have time to say, "There is a partridge," so distinct and deliberate is it often, before it becomes a rapid roll."); April 25, 1854 ("The first partridge drums in one or two places, as if the earth's pulse now beat audibly with the increased flow of life. It slightly flutters all Nature and makes her heart palpitate.") April 29, 1857 ("C. says it makes his heart beat with it, or he feels it in his breast."); May 11, 1853 (" Beginning slowly and deliberately, the partridge's beat sounds faster and faster from far away under the boughs and through the aisles of the wood until it becomes a regular roll, but is speedily concluded") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Partridge

The stellaria at Heywood Spring. See note to May 15, 1856 ("I find what may be the Stellaria borealis )

 A warm summer-like night. A bullfrog trumps once. See  May 25, 1852 ("I hear the first troonk of a bullfrog."); May 25, 1855 ("Heard the first regular bullfrog’s trump on the 18th; none since.")  June 13, 1851 ("The bullfrog belongs to summer.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Bullfrog in Spring

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

A bullfrog trumps once 

after sunset on river –

warm summer-like night.  

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, A bullfrog trumps 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 © 2009-2026

https://tinyurl.com/hdt-560523

The oaks and hickories have lost their brilliancy.

October 26

P. M. —To Conantum. 

Another clear cold day, though not so cold as yesterday. The light and sun come to us directly and freely, as if some obstruction had been removed,—the windows of heaven had been washed.

I see some farmers now cutting up their corn. 

The sweet Viburnum leaves hang thinly on the bushes and are a dull crimsonish red. 

What apples are left out now, I presume that the farmers do not mean to gather. 

October 24, 2025

The witch-hazel is still freshly in flower, and near it I see a houstonia in bloom. 

The hillside is slippery with new-fallen white pine leaves. 

The leaves of the oaks and hickories have begun to be browned, — lost their brilliancy.

I return by way of the mocker-nut trees. The squirrels have already begun on them, though the trees are still covered with yellow and brown leaves, and the nuts do not fall.

A little this side I see a red squirrel dash out from the wall, snatch an apple from amid many on the ground, and, running swiftly up the tree with it, proceed to eat it, sitting on a smooth dead limb, with its back to the wind and its tail curled close over its back.

The song sparrow still sings on a button-bush.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, October 26, 1855

Another clear cold day, though not so cold as yesterday. See October 25, 1855 ("After these pleasant and warm days it is suddenly cold and windy.")

The sweet Viburnum leaves hang thinly on the bushes and are a dull crimsonish red.  See October 11, 1858 ("The Viburnum Lentago is generally a dull red on a green ground, but its leaves are yet quite fresh."); October 23, 1853 ("Viburnum Lentago, with ripe berries and dull-glossy red leaves."); October 31, 1858 ("The Viburnum Lentago is about bare") See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Viburnums

What apples are left out now, I presume that the farmers do not mean to gather. See October 25, 1855 (“Now gather all your apples, if you have not before, or the frost will have them.”)

The witch-hazel is still freshly in flower.  See October 23, 1852 ("The sprays of the witch-hazel are sprinkled on the air, and recurved.") See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Witch-Hazel

The hillside is slippery with new-fallen white pine leaves. See October 25, 1853 ("The ground is strewn with pine-needles as sunlight.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The October Pine Fall

The trees are still covered with yellow and brown leaves, and the nuts do not fall. See October 13, 1857 ("I look down into a mocker-nut, whose recesses and greater part are pure yellow, and from this you pass through a ruddy orange in the more exposed leaves to a rich crispy brown in the leaves of the extreme twigs about the clusters of round green nuts."); November 18, 1858  ("Now is the time to gather the mocker-nuts.")

I see a red squirrel dash out from the wall, snatch an apple from amid many. See  December 16, 1855 ("See two red squirrels on the fence . . . One sits twirling apparently a dried apple in his paws, with his tail curled close over his back as if to keep it warm, fitting its curve. How much smothered sunlight in their wholesome brown red this misty day!  ") See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Red Squirrel

The song sparrow still sings on a button-bush.  See October 16, 1855 ("Then, nearer home, I hear two or three song sparrows on the button-bushes sing as in spring, — that memorable tinkle, — as if it would be last as it was first."); October 27, 1853 ("Song sparrows flitting about, with the three spots on breast.")

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

Oaks and hickories

have lost their brilliancy –

begun to be browned.

Sweet Viburnum leaves 

hang thinly on the bushes 

dull crimsonish red. 

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Oaks and hickories have lost their brilliancy

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/hdt551026