By cars in evening to Allyn's Point and Steamer Commonwealth to New York.

October 24. 

Friday. 12 m. — Set out for Eagleswood, Perth Amboy, N. J. 

Spent the afternoon in Worcester. 

By cars in evening to Allyn's Point and Steamer Commonwealth to New York.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, October 24, 1856

Steamer Commonwealth to New York. See letter to Sophia, ("to New York in the steamer Commonwealth, and, though it was so windy inland, had a perfectly smooth passage"); see also October 25, 1856. ("Saw, at Barnum's Museum, the stuffed skin of a cougar that was found floating dead in the Hudson many years ago. . . Arrived at Eagleswood, Perth Amboy, Saturday, 5 p. m., October 25th.")

Some fear to go to bed, lest the roof be blown off.

October 24. 

Early on Nawshawtuct. 

Black willows bare. Golden willow with yellow leaves. Larch yellow. Most alders by river bare except at top. Waxwork shows red. Celtis almost bare, with greenish-yellow leaves at top. 

Some hickories bare, some with rich golden-brown leaves. Locusts half bare, with greenish-yellow leaves. 

Catnip fresh and green and in bloom. Barberries green, reddish, or scarlet. Cranberry beds at distance in meadows (from hill) are red, for a week or more.

Lombardy poplar yellow. 

Red maples and elms alone very conspicuously bare in our landscape. 

White thorns bare, and berries mostly fallen, reddening the ground. 

Hedge-mustard still fresh and in bloom. Button- woods half bare. 

The rock maple leaves a clear yellow; now and then [one] shows some blood in its veins, and blushes. 

People are busy raking the leaves before their houses; some put them over their strawberries. 

It has rained all day, filling the streams. Just after dark, high southerly winds arise, but very warm, blowing the rain against the windows and roof and shaking the house. 

It is very dark withal, so that I can hardly find my way to a neighbor's. We think of vessels on the coast, and shipwrecks, and how this will bring down the remaining leaves and to-morrow morning the street will be strewn with rotten limbs of the elms amid the leaves and puddles, and some loose chimney or crazy building will have fallen. Some fear to go to bed, lest the roof be blown off.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal,  October 24, 1853

Some hickories bare, some with rich golden-brown leaves. See October 24, 1858 ("Hickories are two thirds fallen, at least.") and note to October 8, 1856 ("The hickory leaves are among the handsomest now, varying from green through yellow, more or less broadly green-striped on the principal veins, to pure yellow, at first almost lemon-yellow, at last browner and crisped. This mingling of yellow and green on the same leaf, the green next the veins where the life is most persistent, is very pleasing.")


Locusts half bare, with greenish-yellow leaves. See October 22, 1858 ("I see locusts are generally yellow but thinly leaved, and those at extremities. "); October 24, 1858 ("The locusts are bare except the tops,")

Just after dark, high southerly winds shaking the house. See October 17, 1857 ("Very high wind in the night, shaking the house. I feel it taking hold under the eaves, which project at the end of the house, each time with a jerk. Some rain also, and these two bring down the leaves.") and note to November 20, 1857 ("High wind in the night, shaking the house.")

High winds just after dark –

some fear to go to bed lest

the roof be blown off.

As if the globe itself were a fruit on its stem, with ever one cheek toward the sun.

October 24.

A northeast storm, though not much rainfalls to-day, but a fine driving mizzle or “drisk.” 

This, as usual, brings the geese, and at 2.30 P. M. I see two flocks go over. I hear that some were seen two or three weeks ago (??), faintly honking. A great many must go over to-day and also alight in this neighborhood. This weather warns them of the approach of winter, and this wind speeds them on their way. Surely, then, while geese fly overhead we can live here as contentedly as they do at York Factory on Hudson’s Bay. We shall perchance be as well provisioned and have as good society as they. 

Let us be of good cheer, then, and expect the annual vessel which brings the spring to us without fail.

 P. M. — To Woodis Park over Hill. 

The celtis has just fallen. Its leaves were apparently a yellow green. 

The sassafras trees are bare, — how long ? — and the white ash apparently just bared. 

The locusts are bare except the tops, and in this respect those on the hills, at least, are as peculiar as birches. Some trees lose their lower leaves first, as birches and locusts; some the upper, as apples (though a few green leaves may remain on the very tips of the twigs) and generally maples, though the last fall fast. 

Hickories are two thirds fallen, at least. [Apparently mocker-nut later.]

This rain and wind too bring down the leaves very fast. The yard is strewn with the yellow leaves of the peach and the orange and scarlet ones of the cherry. You could not spread a cloth but it would soon be strewn with them. 

Thorns and balm-of-Gilead and red mulberries bare. 

The brilliant autumnal colors are red and yellow and the various tints, hues, and shades of these. Blue is reserved to be the color of the sky, but yellow and red are the colors of the earth flower. Every fruit, on ripening, and just before its fall, acquires a bright tint. So do the leaves; so the sky before the end of the day, and the year near its setting. October is the red sunset sky, November the later twilight. 

Color stands for all ripeness and success. We have dreamed that the hero should carry his color aloft, as a symbol of the ripeness of his virtue. The noblest feature, the eye, is the fairest colored, the jewel of the body. The warrior’s flag is the flower which precedes his fruit. He unfurls his flag to the breeze with such confidence and brag as the flower its petals. Now we shall see what kind of fruit will succeed.

The very forest and herbage, the pellicle of the earth as it were, must acquire a bright color, an evidence of its ripeness, as if the globe itself were a fruit on its stem, with ever one cheek toward the sun. Our appetites have commonly confined our views of ripeness and its phenomena — color and mellowness and perfectness — to the fruits which we eat, and we are wont to forget that an immense harvest which we do not eat, hardly use at all, is annually ripened by nature. At our annual cattle-shows and horticultural exhibitions we make, as we think, a great show of fair fruits, destined, however, to a rather ignoble fate, fruits not worshipped for this chiefly; but round about and within our towns there is annually another show of fruits, on an infinitely grander scale, fruits which address our taste for beauty alone. 

The scarlet oak, which was quite green the 12th, is now completely scarlet and apparently has been so a few days. This alone of our indigenous deciduous trees (the pitch pine is with it) is now in its glory. 

(I have not seen the beech, but suppose it past. The Populus grandidentata and sugar maple come nearest to it, but they have lost the greater part of their leaves.)

Look at one, completely changed from green to bright dark-scarlet, every leaf, as if it had been dipped into a scarlet dye, between you and the sun. Was not this worth waiting for? Little did you think ten days ago that that cold green tree could assume such color as this. Its leaves still firmly attached While those of other trees are falling around it. I am the last to blush, but I blush deeper than any of ye. I bring up the rear in my red coat. The scarlet oaks, alone of oaks, have not given up the fight. Perchance their leaves, so finely cut, are longer preserved partly because they present less surface to the elements, and for a long time, if I remember rightly, some scarlet oak leaves will “hold out to burn.”   

Now in huckleberry pastures you see only here and there a few bright scarlet or crimson (for they vary) leaves amid or above the bare reddish stems, burning as if with condensed brightness, — as if the few that remained burned with the condensed brightness of all that have fallen. 

In sheltered woods you [see] some dicksonia still straw-color or pale-yellow. Some thoroughwort the same color. In the shade generally you find paler and more delicate tints, fading to straw-color and white.

The deep reds and scarlets and purples show exposure to the sun. I see an intensely scarlet high blueberry— but where one leaf has overlapped another it is yellow — with a regular outline. 

That large hornets’ nest which I saw on the 4th is now deserted, and I bring it home. But in the evening, warmed by my fire, two or three come forth and crawl over it, and I make haste to throw it out the window.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, October 24, 1858

I see two flocks go over. I hear that some were seen two or three weeks ago.  See note to October 23, 1858 ("One tells me that he saw geese go over Wayland the 17th") and October 27, 1857 ("I hear that Sammy Hoar saw geese go over to-day. The fall (strictly speaking) is approaching an end in this probably annual northeast storm"); November 13, 1858 ("A large flock of geese go over just before night. "); November 20, 1853 ("Methinks the geese are wont to go south just before a storm, and, in the spring, to go north just after one, say at the end of a long April storm. ") See also A Book of Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Geese in Autumn

This rain and wind too bring down the leaves very fast. Compare  October 24, 1855 ("The gentle touch of the rain brings down more leaves than the wind."); October 24, 1853 ("Just after dark, high southerly winds arise, but very warm, blowing the rain against the windows and roof and shaking the house.")

October is the red sunset sky, November the later twilight. See November 14, 1853 ("October is the month of painted leaves, of ripe leaves, when all the earth, not merely flowers, but fruits and leaves, are ripe. With respect to its colors and its season, it is the sunset month of the year, when the earth is painted like the sunset sky. This rich glow flashes round the world. This light fades into the clear, white, leafless twilight of November."); August 31, 1852 ("The evening of the year is colored like the sunset."); November 2, 1853 ("We come home in the autumn twilight, which lasts long and is remarkably light, the air being purer, — clear white light, which penetrates the woods"). Also Autumnal Tints ("October is the month for painted leaves. Their rich glow now flashes round the world. As fruits and leaves and the day itself acquire a bright tint just before they fall, so the year near its setting. October is its sunset sky ; November the later twilight.") and note to October 28, 1852 ("Suddenly the light of the setting sun yellows and warms all the landscape.")

That large hornets’ nest which I saw on the 4th is now deserted. See October 4, 1858 ("Hornets are still at work in their nests."); October 15, 1855 ("The hornets’ nests are exposed, the maples being bare, but the hornets are gone"); October 22, 1858 ("Hornets’ nests are now being exposed, deserted by the hornets") ; October 25, 1854 ("The maples being bare, the great hornet nests are exposed."); See also September 25, 1851 ("The hornets' nest not brown but gray, two shades, whitish and dark, alternating on the outer layers or the covering, giving it a waved appearance."). See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau. Wasps and Hornets

October is the

red sunset sky – November

the later twilight. 

Absorbed in picking chestnuts humming a thought of more significance.

October 24. 

P. M. — To Smith's chestnut grove. 

Rain last night, raising the springs a little. To-day and yesterday still, gray days, but not cold. 

The sugar maple leaves are now falling fast. 

I get a couple of quarts of chestnuts by patiently brushing the thick beds of leaves aside with my hand in successive concentric circles till I reach the trunk; more than half under one tree. I believe I get more by resolving, where they are reasonably thick, to pick all under one tree first. Begin at the tree and brush the leaves with your right hand in toward the stump, while your left holds the basket, and so go round and round it in concentric circles, each time laying bare about two feet in width, till you get as far as the boughs extend. You may presume that you have got about all then. It is best to reduce it to a system. Of course you will shake the tree first, if there are any on it. The nuts lie commonly two or three together, as they fell. 

I find on a chestnut tree, while shaking it, fifteen or twenty feet high, on the bark of the trunk, a singular green kind of slug nearly half an inch long . . . and about three sixteenths high from the paper up, narrower on back . . .; a brown mark across middle of back and near tail . . .. It can elongate itself and also run out its head a little from beneath this soft kind of shell. Beneath, quite flat and fleshy-ribbed. Climbs up glass slowly but easily. Reminds me of a green beechnut, but flat-backed. Would hardly suspect it to have life at first sight. Sticks very firmly to the bark or glass; hard to be pushed aside. 

I find one of those small, hard, dark-brown millipede worms partly crawled into a hole in a chestnut. 

I read of an apple tree in this neighborhood that had blossomed again about a week ago. 

I find my account in this long-continued monotonous labor of picking chestnuts all the afternoon, brushing the leaves aside without looking up, absorbed in that, and forgetting better things awhile. My eye is educated to discover anything on the ground, as chestnuts, etc. It is probably wholesomer to look at the ground much than at the heavens. As I go stooping and brushing the leaves aside by the hour, I am not thinking of chestnuts merely, but I find myself humming a thought of more significance. This occupation affords a certain broad pause and opportunity to start again afterward, – turn over a new leaf. 

I hear the dull thump of heavy stones against the trees from far through the rustling wood, where boys are ranging for nuts. 

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, October 24, 1857

The sugar maple leaves are now falling fast. See October 24, 1855  ("The rich yellow and scarlet leaves of the sugar maple on the Common now thickly cover the grass in great circles about the trees, and, half having fallen, look like the reflection of the trees in water lighting up the Common, reflecting light even to the surrounding houses."); October 24, 1858 ("The Populus grandidentata and sugar maple . . .have lost the greater part of their leaves.")

Brushing the leaves aside without looking up, absorbed in that, and forgetting better things awhile . . . I am not thinking of chestnuts merely, but I find myself humming a thought of more significance. See
November 18 1851 ("The chopper who works in the woods all day is more open in some respects to the impressions they are fitted to make than the naturalist who goes to see them. . . . The man who is bent upon his work is frequently in the best attitude to observe what is irrelevant to his work.")


I hear the dull thump of heavy stones ...far through the rustling wood where boys are ranging for nuts.  See October 24, 1852 ("I see, far over the river, boys gathering walnuts.")

A Passage to New York

The Commonwealth

October 24.

I spent the afternoon of Friday*(it seems some months ago) in Worcester, but failed to see Blake, he having "gone to the horse-race" in Boston; to atone for which I have just received a letter from him, asking me to stop at Worcester and lecture on my return. 

I called on  Brown and Higginson; in the evening came by way of Norwich to New York in the steamer Commonwealth, and, though it was so windy inland, had a perfectly smooth passage, and about as good a sleep as usually at home.

H. D. Thoreau, to Sophia, *[October 24, 1856]

Leaves cover the grass in great circles about the trees.

October 24

Rained last night and all this day for the most part, bringing down the leaves, buttonwoods and sugar maples, in the street.

October 24, 2015

The rich yellow and scarlet leaves of the sugar maple on the Common now thickly cover the grass in great circles about the trees, and, half having fallen, look like the reflection of the trees in water lighting up the Common, reflecting light even to the surrounding houses.

The gentle touch of the rain brings down more leaves than the wind.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, October 24, 1855

Leaves cover the grass in great circles about the trees, and, half having fallen, look like the reflection of the trees. See October 15, 1853 ("They suddenly form thick beds or carpets on the ground . . . just the size and form of the tree above.”)

Half fallen leaves

 great circles under the trees

like a reflection.

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, 

Leaves cover the grass in great circles about the trees

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

https://tinyurl.com/hdt-551024

A Book of the Seasons: October 24.

October 24.

Small yellow apples
hanging over the road, branches
gracefully drooping.
October 24, 1852

High winds just after dark,

some fear to go to bed lest

the roof be blown off.

October 24, 1853

The rich yellow and scarlet leaves of the sugar maple on the Common now thickly cover the grass in great circles about the trees, and, half having fallen, look like the reflection of the trees in water.

light up the Common, 

reflecting light even to 

surrounding houses.

October 24, 1855

The rich yellow and 

scarlet leaves of the sugar 

maple on the Common 

now thickly cover

the grass in great circles 

about the trees and --

half having fallen --

look like the reflection of 

the trees in water 

lighting up the Common

reflecting light even to the 

surrounding houses.

October 24, 1855

Half fallen leaves

in great circles under trees

like a reflection.

October 24, 1855

This northeast storm warns

the approach of winter and

speeds geese on their way.

October 24, 1858

October is the

red sunset sky, November

the later twilight. 

October 24, 1858

Countless downy seeds
of the goldenrods, so fine
we do not notice.
October 24, 1860

October 24, 2015

Another Indian-summer day. October 24,  1852

It has rained all day, filling the streams.   October 24, 1853

Just after dark, high southerly winds arise, but very warm, blowing the rain against the windows and roof and shaking the house.   October 24, 1853

Rained last night and all this day for the most part, bringing down the leaves, buttonwoods and sugar maples, in the street.  October 24, 1855

Rain last night, raising the springs a little. To-day and yesterday still, gray days, but not cold. October 24, 1857

A northeast storm, though not much rainfalls to-day, but a fine driving mizzle or “drisk.”    October 24, 1858

This, as usual, brings the geese, and at 2.30 P. M. I see two flocks go over. . . . A great many must go over to-day and also alight in this neighborhood. This weather warns them of the approach of winter, and this wind speeds them on their way.    October 24, 1858

The gentle touch of the rain brings down more leaves than the wind.  October 24, 1855

This rain and wind too bring down the leaves very fast.    October 24, 1858

Some trees lose their lower leaves first, as birches and locusts; some the upper, as apples (though a few green leaves may remain on the very tips of the twigs) and generally maples, though the last fall fast.    October 24, 1858

The sugar maple leaves are now falling fast. October 24, 1857

The rich yellow and scarlet leaves of the sugar maple on the Common now thickly cover the grass in great circles about the trees, and, half having fallen, look like the reflection of the trees in water lighting up the Common, reflecting light even to the surrounding houses.  October 24, 1855

The yard is strewn with the yellow leaves of the peach and the orange and scarlet ones of the cherry. You could not spread a cloth but it would soon be strewn with them.    October 24, 1858

People are busy raking the leaves before their houses; some put them over their strawberries.   October 24, 1853

The brilliant autumnal colors are red and yellow and the various tints, hues, and shades of these.    October 24, 1858

The very forest and herbage, the pellicle of the earth as it were, must acquire a bright color, an evidence of its ripeness, as if the globe itself were a fruit on its stem, with ever one cheek toward the sun.    October 24, 1858

Blue is reserved to be the color of the sky, but yellow and red are the colors of the earth flower.    October 24, 1858

Every fruit, on ripening, and just before its fall, acquires a bright tint. So do the leaves; so the sky before the end of the day, and the year near its setting.   October 24, 1858

October is the red sunset sky, November the later twilight.    October 24, 1858

Color stands for all ripeness and success.    October 24, 1858

We are wont to forget that an immense harvest which we do not eat, hardly use at all, is annually ripened by nature.    . . .but round about and within our towns there is annually another show of fruits, on an infinitely grander scale, fruits which address our taste for beauty alone.    October 24, 1858

The road through the woods this side the powder- mills was very gorgeous with the sun shining endwise through it, and the red tints of the deciduous trees, now somewhat imbrowned, mingled with the liquid green of the pines.  October 24,  1852

Catnip fresh and green and in bloom.   October 24, 1853

Hedge-mustard still fresh and in bloom. October 24, 1853

Barberries green, reddish, or scarlet.  October 24, 1853

Waxwork shows red. October 24, 1853

The scarlet oak, which was quite green the 12th, is now completely scarlet and apparently has been so a few days.  . . . is now in its glory.    Look at one, completely changed from green to bright dark-scarlet, every leaf, as if it had been dipped into a scarlet dye, between you and the sun. Was not this worth waiting for?   October 24, 1858

The deep reds and scarlets and purples show exposure to the sun.    October 24, 1858

 Cranberry beds at distance in meadows (from hill) are red, for a week or more.  October 24, 1853

I see an intensely scarlet high blueberry— but where one leaf has overlapped another it is yellow — with a regular outline.    October 24, 1858

The rock maple leaves a clear yellow; now and then [one] shows some blood in its veins, and blushes.   October 24, 1853

The larches in the swamps are now conspicuously yellow and ready for their fall. They can now be distinguished at a distance.  October 24,  1852

Larch yellow.  October 24, 1853

Lombardy poplar yellow.   October 24, 1853

Golden willow with yellow leaves.   October 24, 1853

In sheltered woods you [see] some dicksonia still straw-color or pale-yellow. Some thoroughwort the same color. In the shade generally you find paler and more delicate tints, fading to straw-color and white.   October 24, 1858

I saw in Stow some trees fuller of apples still than I remember to have ever seen. Small yellow apples hanging over the road. . . . The topmost branches, instead of standing erect, spread and drooped in all directions.  October 24,  1852

I read of an apple tree in this neighborhood that had blossomed again about a week ago. October 24, 1857

Celtis almost bare, with greenish-yellow leaves at top. October 24, 1853

The celtis has just fallen. Its leaves were apparently a yellow green.    October 24, 1858

Locusts half bare, with greenish-yellow leaves.   October 24, 1853

The locusts are bare except the tops, and in this respect those on the hills, at least, are as peculiar as birches.    October 24, 1858

Some hickories bare, some with rich golden-brown leaves. October 24, 1853

Hickories are two thirds fallen, at least.  October 24, 1858

White thorns bare, and berries mostly fallen, reddening the ground.   October 24, 1853

Thorns and balm-of-Gilead and red mulberries bare.    October 24, 1858

The sassafras trees are bare, — how long ? — and the white ash apparently just bared. October 24, 1858

Button-woods half bare.   October 24, 1853

Black willows bare.   October 24, 1853

Most alders by river bare except at top.   October 24, 1853

The andromeda is already browned, has a grayish-brown speckled look.  October 24,  1852

There is an agreeable prospect from near the post-office in the northwest of Sudbury.  October 24,  1852

The Populus grandidentata and sugar maple . . .have lost the greater part of their leaves.)   October 24, 1858

Red maples and elms alone very conspicuously bare in our landscape.   October 24, 1853

Countless downy thistle-like seeds of the goldenrods, so fine that we do not notice them in the air, cover our clothes like dust. No wonder they spread over all fields and far in to the woods.  October 24, 1860

The southeast ( ?) horizon is very distant, — but what perhaps makes it more agreeable, it is a low distance, — extending to the Weston elm in the horizon. October 24,  1852

You are more impressed with the extent of earth overlooked than if the view were bounded by mountains.  October 24,  1852

Surely, then, while geese fly overhead we can live here as contentedly as they do at York Factory on Hudson’s Bay. We shall perchance be as well provisioned and have as good society as they. Let us be of good cheer, then, and expect the annual vessel which brings the spring to us without fail.   October 24, 1858

We think of vessels on the coast, and shipwrecks, and how this will bring down the remaining leaves and to-morrow morning the street will be strewn with rotten limbs of the elms amid the leaves and puddles, and some loose chimney or crazy building will have fallen.   October 24, 1853

I get a couple of quarts of chestnuts by patiently brushing the thick beds of leaves aside with my hand in successive concentric circles till I reach the trunk; more than half under one tree. October 24, 1857

As I go stooping and brushing the leaves aside by the hour, I am not thinking of chestnuts merely, but I find myself humming a thought of more significance. October 24, 1857

This occupation affords a certain broad pause and opportunity to start again afterward, – turn over a new leaf. October 24, 1857

I hear the dull thump of heavy stones against the trees from far through the rustling wood, where boys are ranging for nuts.  October 24, 1857

 I see, far over the river, boys gathering walnuts.  October 24,  1852

At the fall on the river at Parker's paper-mill, there is a bright sparkle on the water long before we get to it.  October 24,  1852

It is very dark withal, so that I can hardly find my way to a neighbor's.    October 24, 1853

That large hornets’ nest which I saw on the 4th is now deserted, and I bring it home. But in the evening, warmed by my fire, two or three come forth and crawl over it, and I make haste to throw it out the window.    October 24, 1858

Some fear to go to bed, lest the roof be blown off.   October 24, 1853

We have dreamed that the hero should carry his color aloft, as a symbol of the ripeness of his virtue.    October 24, 1858

The noblest feature, the eye, is the fairest colored, the jewel of the body. The warrior’s flag is the flower which precedes his fruit.    October 24, 1858

He unfurls his flag to the breeze with such confidence and brag as the flower its petals. Now we shall see what kind of fruit will succeed.   October 24, 1858

October 24, 2015

October  24, 2021

October  24, 2021 

 October 23, 1853 ("It is the season of fuzzy seeds, — goldenrods, everlasting, senecio, asters, epilobium, etc., etc.")

October  24, 2021

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 © 2009-2017