Large waves are not so easily formed on account of friction.

April 28.

April 28, 2019

8.30 a. m. — Row to Carlisle Bridge with Blake and Brown. 

See black ducks and sheldrakes still. 

The first myrtle-bird that I have noticed. 

A small hawk, perhaps pigeon hawk. 

A gull. 

Sit on Ball's Hill. The water partly over the Great Meadows. The wind is northeast, and at the western base of the hill we are quite sheltered; yet the waves run quite high there and still further up the river, — waves raised by the wind beyond the hill, — while there are very slight waves or ripples over the meadow south of the hill, which is much more exposed, evidently because the water is shallow there and large waves are not so easily formed on account of friction. 

S. Higginson brought me the arbutus in bloom on the 26th, one twig only out. 

See a shad-fly, one only, on water. 

A little snake, size of little brown snake, on pine hill, but uniformly grayish above as far as I could see. 

E. Emerson's Salamandra dorsalis has just lost its skin.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, April 28, 1859


The first myrtle-bird that I have noticed. See April 28, 1855 ( ("There are a great many myrtle-birds here, — they have been quite common for a week.");  April 28, 1858 (“I see the myrtle-bird in the same sunny place, south of the Island woods, as formerly.”)

Ball’s Hill. See March 16, 1859 (“As we look over the lively, tossing blue waves for a mile or more eastward and northward, our eyes fall on these shining russet hills, and Ball's Hill appears in this strong light at the verge of this undulating blue plain, like some glorious newly created island of the spring, just sprung up from the bottom in the midst of the blue waters. ”)

See a shad-fly, one only, on water. See April 24, 1857 (“Sail to Ball's Hill. The water is at its height, higher than before this year. I see a few shad-flies on its surface.”). Compare May 1, 1854 ("The water is strewn with myriads of wrecked shad-flies, erect on the surface, with their wings up like so many schooners all headed one way.”)

A little snake, size of little brown snake, on pine hill, but uniformly grayish above. See October 29, 1857  (“I see evidently what Storer calls the little brown snake (Coluber ordinatus). . . . Above it is pale-brown, with a still lighter brown stripe running down the middle of the back”)

E. Emerson's Salamandra dorsalis has just lost its skin. See April 18, 1859 (“Ed. Emerson shows me his aquarium.. . .Two salamanders, . . . One some four inches long, with a carinated and waved (crenated) edged tail as well as light-vermilion spots on the back, evidently the Salamandra dorsalis. (This I suspect is what I called S. symmetrica last fall.) (This is pale-brown above.)”); December 5, 1858 (“How singularly ornamented is that salamander! Its brightest side, its yellow belly, sprinkled with fine dark spots, is turned downward. Its back is indeed ornamented with two rows of bright vermilion spots, but these can only be detected on the very closest inspection.”); December 3, 1858 ("brown (not dark-brown) above and yellow with small dark spots beneath, and the same spots on the sides of the tail; a row of very minute vermilion spots, not detected but on a close examination, on each side of the back; the tail is waved on the edge (upper edge, at least); has a pretty, bright eye. Its tail, though narrower, reminds me of the pollywog.")

The farmers digging potatoes on shore pause a moment to watch my sail and bending mast.

September 27

P. M. — By boat to Fair Haven Pond. Wind northeast. Sail most of the way. 

The river has gone down from its height on the 20th, and is now some eighteen inches lower, or within its banks. The front rank polygonum is uncovered and in bloom still, but its leaves generally turned a dull red. The P. hydropiperoides is apparently past prime. The P. amphibium spikes still in prime. 

When close to the bushes you do not notice any mark of the recent high water, but at a little distance you see a perfectly level line on the button-bushes and willows, about eighteen inches above the present surface, it being all dark below and warm sunny yellow above. The leaves that have been immersed are generally fallen or withered. Though the bushes may be loose and open, this water line is so perfectly level that it appears continuous. 

The farmers digging potatoes on shore pause a moment to watch my sail and bending mast. 

It is pleasant to see your mast bend in these safe waters. It is rare that the wind is so northeast that I can sail well from the railroad bridge to Clamshell Hill, as to-day.

Red maples now fairly glow along the shore. They vary from yellow to a peculiar crimson which is more red than common crimson. But these particular trees soon fade. It is the first blush which is the purest. 

See men raking cranberries now, or far away squatting in the meadows, where they are picking them. 

Grapes have begun to shrivel on their stems. They drop off on the slightest touch, and if they fall into the water are lost, going to the bottom. You see the grape leaves touched with frost curled up and looking crisp on their edges. 

The fisherman Haynes thinks that the large flock of peetweet-like birds which I saw on the meadow one fall were what he calls “black-backs.” 

What are those little birds in flocks in the garden and on the peach trees these mornings, about size of chip-birds, without distinct chestnut crowns? 

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, September 27, 1858

The farmers digging potatoes on shore pause a moment to watch my sail and bending mast.See May 19, 1856 ("A traveller riding along the highway is watching my sail while he hums a tune.") Compare September 21, 1859 ("The farmers on all sides are digging their potatoes, so prone to their work that they do not see me going across lots.")

Red maples now fairly glow along the shore. See September 27, 1851 ("The maples by the riverside look very green yet, have not begun to blush, nor are the leaves touched by frost. Not so on the uplands"); 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 ("Small red maples in low ground have fairly begun to burn for a week.")

Driving snow fast whitening the ground

December 25

Snow driving almost horizontally from the northeast and fast whitening the ground, and with it the first tree sparrows I have noticed in the yard. 

December  25, 2015

It turns partly to rain and hail at midday.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, December 25, 1855

Snow driving almost horizontally. See December 14, 1859 ("Snow-storms might be classified. This is a fine, dry snow, drifting nearly horizontally from the north, so that it is quite blinding to face."); December 23, 1851 ("This morning, when I woke, I found it snowing, the snow fine and driving almost horizontally, as if it had set in for a long storm."); December 29, 1853 ("Wind from the north blows the snow almost horizontally, and, beside freezing you, almost takes your breath away. The driving snow blinds you."); January 5, 1856 (" It is quite cold, and the driving storm is bitter to face. . . It comes almost horizontally from the north."); January 19, 1857 ("A snow-storm with very high wind all last night and to-day . . .  A fine dry snow, intolerable to face")  See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Snow-storms might be classified

The first tree sparrows I have noticed in the yard. See December 27, 1857 ("A clear, pleasant day. Tree sparrows about the weeds in the yard."); December 28, 1853 ("I hear and see tree sparrows about the weeds in the garden. They seem to visit the gardens with the earliest snow."); December 29, 1853 ("All day a driving snow-storm. . . yet in midst of all I see a bird, probably a tree sparrow, partly blown, partly flying, over the house to alight in a field. ") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Tree Sparrow and January 16, 1860:

The tree sparrow comes

from the north in the winter

to get its dinner.

It turns partly to rain and hail.  See  December 26, 1855 ("After snow, rain, and hail yesterday and last night, we have this morning quite a glaze, there being at last an inch or two of crusted snow on the ground, the most we have had."); See also January 1, 1853 ("A fine snowy hail and rain is falling. . . I return at last in a rain, and am coated with a glaze, like the fields."); January 21, 1855  ("The snow is turning to rain through a fine hail."); January 25, 1860 ("I will call the weather fair, if it does not threaten rain or snow or hail; foul, if it rains or snows or hails, or is so overcast that we expect one or the other from hour to hour.")

December 25.  See  A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, December 25

Snow fast whitening 

the ground turns partly to rain 

and hail at midday.

 A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Driving snow fast whitening the ground 

 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

tinyurl.com/hdt551225

A northeasterly storm.

July 8. 

A northeasterly storm. A great part of beach bodily removed and a rock five feet high exposed —before invisible — opposite lighthouse. 

The black throated bunting common among the shrubbery. Its note much like the Maryland yellow-throat’s, -- wittichee te tchea, tche te tchea, tche.

The Corema Conradii, broom crowberry, is quite common at edge of higher bank just south of the light house. It is now full of small green fruit, small pin head size. It spreads from a centre, raying out and rooting every four or five inches. It forms peculiar handsome-shaped mounds, four or five feet in diameter by nine inches or a foot high, very soft springy beds to lie on, — a woodman’s bed already spread. 

I am surprised at the number of large light-colored toads everywhere hopping over these dry and sandy fields. 

Went over to Bay side. That pond at Pond Village three eighths of a mile long and densely filled with cat-tail flag seven feet high. Many red-wing black birds in it. 

Small says there are two kinds of cat-tail there, one the barrel flag for coopers, the other shorter for chairs; he used to gather them.

See the killdeer a dozen rods off in pasture, anxious about its eggs or young, with its shrill squeaking note, its ring of white about its neck and two black crescents on breast. They are not so common and noisy as in June. 

July 1, 2013

A milkweed out some days.

S. said that nineteen small yellow birds (probably goldfinches) were found dead under the light in the spring early.

H. D. Thoreu, Journal, July 8, 1855

July 8. See A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, July 8

The killdeer anxious 

about its eggs or young – with 

its shrill squeaking note.

 A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, A northeasterly storm.

 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/hdt-550708

May day -- an unaccountable sweetness as of flowers in the air.

Rained some in the night; cloudy in the forenoon; clears up in the afternoon. 

P. M. — By boat with Sophia to Conantum, a maying. 

The water has gone down very fast and the grass has sprung up. There is a strong, fresh marsh scent wafted from the meadows, much like the salt marshes. We, sail with a smart wind from the northeast, yet it is warm enough. 

Horse-mint is seen springing up, and for two or three days at the bottom of the river and on shore. 

At Hill Shore the Anemone nemoralis to-morrow. See none wide open. 

The myrtle-bird is one of the commonest and tamest birds now. It catches insects like a pewee, darting off from its perch and returning to it, and sings something like a-chill chill, chill chill, chill chill, a-twear, twill twill twee, or it may be all tw — not loud; a little like the F. hyemalis, or more like pine warbler, —rapid, and more and more intense as it advances. 

There is an unaccountable sweetness as of flowers in the air, — a true May day. 

Raw and drizzling in the morning. The grackle still.

What various brilliant and evanescent colors on the surface of this agitated water, now, as we are crossing Willow Bay, looking toward the half-concealed sun over the foam-spotted flood! It reminds me of the sea. 

At Clamshell, the Viola blanda. I do not look for pollen. I find a clamshell five inches long (wanting one sixteenth) and more than two and a half inches broad and two inches thick. 

What that little dusky colored lichen on the ground at Clamshell end ditch, with a sort of triangular green fruit? or marchantia? 

The maples of Potter’s Swamp, seen now nearly half a mile off against the russet or reddish hillside, are a very dull scarlet, like Spanish brown, but one against a green pine wood is much brighter. 

Thalictrum anemonoides at Conant Cliff. Did not look for pollen. 

Why have the white pines at a distance that silvery look around their edges or thin parts? Is it owing to the wind showing the under sides of the needles? Methinks you do not see it in the winter. 

Went to Garfield’s for the hawk of yesterday. It was nailed to the barn in terrorem and as a trophy. He gave it to me with an egg. He called it the female, and probably was right, it was so large. He tried in vain to shoot the male, which I saw circling about just out of gunshot and screaming, while he robbed the nest. He climbed the tree when I was there yesterday afternoon, the tallest white pine or other tree in its neighborhood, over a swamp, and found two young, which he thought not more than a fortnight old,—with only down, at least no feathers,—and one addled egg, also three or four white-bellied or deer mouse (Mus leucopus), a perch, and a sucker, and a gray rabbit’s skin. He had seen squirrels, etc., in other nests. These fishes were now stale. I found the remains of a partridge under the tree. 

The reason I did not see my hawks at Well Meadow last year was that he found and broke up their nest there, containing five eggs.

The hawk measures exactly 22 1/2 inches in length and 4 feet 4 1/2 inches in alar extent, and weighs 3 1/4 pounds. The ends of closed wings almost two inches short of end of tail. The wing extends nearly two feet from the body, and is 10 3/4 inches wide; from flexure is 15 3/4 inches. [etc.]

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, May 1, 1855

There is an unaccountable sweetness as of flowers in the air, — a true May day. See May 6, 1855 ("that unaccountable fugacious fragrance, as of all flowers, bursting forth in air,. . .the general fragrance of the year.. . . It surpasses all particular fragrances."); May 16, 1854 ("The earth is all fragrant as one flower. ”) May 16, 1852 (“The whole earth is fragrant as a bouquet held to your nose. A fine, delicious fragrance, which will come to the senses only when it will.”).

Why have the white pines at a distance that silvery look around their edges or thin parts? See February 10, 1860 ("I see that Wheildon's pines are rocking and showing their silvery under sides as last spring, — their first awakening, as it were. ")February 25, 1860 ("I noticed yesterday the first conspicuous silvery sheen from the needles of the white pine waving in the wind."); April 29, 1852 ("The pines have an appearance they have not worn before, yet not easy to describe. The mottled sunlight and shade, seen looking into the woods, is more like summer.”);  May 18, 1852 ("the dark-green pines, wonderfully distinct, near and erect, with their distinct dark stems, spiring tops, regularly disposed branches, and silvery light on their needles.”). February, 5, 1852 ("The boughs, feathery boughs, of the white pines, tier above tier, reflect a silvery light against the darkness of the grove, as if both the silvery-lighted and greenish bough and the shadowy intervals of the shade behind belong to one tree.”)  See also A Book of the Seasons , White Pines

In the midst of the snow.

December 3.

The first snow of consequence fell in the evening, very damp (wind northeast); five or six inches deep in morning, after very high wind in the night. 

Snowbirds in garden in the midst of the snow in the afternoon.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, December 3, 1854

The first snow of consequence fell in the evening, very damp (wind northeast); five or six inches deep in morning. See November 12, 1859 ("The first sprinkling of snow, which for a short time whitens the ground in spots."); November 18, 1855 ("About an inch of snow fell last night, but the ground was not at all frozen or prepared for it. A little greener grass and stubble here and there seems to burn its way through it this forenoon."); November 23, 1852 ("There is something genial even in the first snow, and Nature seems to relent a little of her November harshness."); November 24, 1860 ("Though a slight touch, this was the first wintry scene of the season. The rabbits in the swamps enjoy it, as well as you."); November 29, 1856 (“[S]nows slowly and interruptedly with a little fine hail all day till it is several inches deep. This the first snow I have seen . . .”); December 8, 1850 ( . . ."the ground is now covered, - our first snow, two inches deep. . . . I am struck by this sudden solitude and remoteness that these places have acquired. The dear privacy and retirement and solitude which winter makes possible! This evening for the first time the new moon is reflected from the frozen snow-crust.”)

Snowbirds in garden in the midst of the snow in the afternoon. See December 1, 1856 ("Slate-colored snowbirds flit before me in the path, feeding on the seeds on the snow, the countless little brown seeds that begin to be scattered over the snow,"); see also A Book of the Seasons by Henry Thoreau, the Dark-eyed Junco (Fringilla hyemalis)

At Botrychium Swamp.

May 26

Overcast, rain-threatening; wind northeast

and cool.

Melons have peeped out. 

Our pink azalea. 

River five eighths of an inch below summer level.

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

Our pink azalea. See May 26, 1857 ("Pink azalea in garden.") See also May 25, 1856 ("Azalea nudiflora in garden."); May 29, 1855 ("Azalea nudiflora in garden".)

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