Showing posts with label september. Show all posts
Showing posts with label september. Show all posts

Saturday, October 3, 2026

September 1856

 


When schools teach colors
fungi should be used by way
of illustration.

You almost envy 
the wood frogs and toads that hop
amid such gems.
~ September 1, 1856

Prepared for strange things
my expectation ripens
to discovery.
~ September 2, 1856

Various berries
sizes forms – elliptical
oblong, globular –
many stages of color.
Viburnum nudum.
~ September 3, 1856

Archangelica –
broad umbelliferous top
on a zigzag stem.
~ September 4, 1856

Women and children
in fields picking hops in the
shade of large white sheets.
~ September 5, 1856

Raspberry in bloom
fruit red and agreeable
but not abundant.
~ September 6, 1856

At Brattleboro
botanizing Whetstone Brook
after the freshet.
~ September 8, 1856

The size of its limbs
the size of its canine teeth
and its great white claws.
~ September 9, 1856

A pair of black hawks
hovering about this cliff –
a new kind to me.
~ September 10, 1856

A fine view of the
Connecticut valley and
Ascutney Mountain.
~ September 11, 1856

Yellow as cool to
the eye as the creak of the
cricket to the ear.
~ September 13, 1856

Ditches now crowded –
how ever unexpected
these later flowers!
~ September 14, 1856

Witch-hazel begun –
it is later with us than
the fringed gentian.
~ September 18, 1856

Huckleberrying –
a month or more for every
man woman and child.
~ September 19, 1856

It is a warm and
very hazy day – wreaths of
mist in horizon.
~ September 21, 1856

You first detect your
own plants when abroad – because
looking for the strange.
~ September 21, 1856

I collect these herbs . . . biding the time when their use shall be discovered. HDT ~ September 22, 1856 tinyurl.com/hdt-560922

A golden-crowned thrush
runs off a few feet as if
she had a nest still.
~ September 25, 1856

Colors through clear air –
the trees and shrubs putting on
their October dress.
~ September 27, 1856

The arum berries
are still fresh and abundant –
perhaps in their prime.
~ September 28, 1856

The desmodium
prophesy the traveller
that will transport seeds.
~ September 29, 1856

Minott said the hay
they got in since the last flood
was good for nothing.
~ September 30, 1856

Saturday, September 27, 2025

A Book of the Seasons: The Soapwort Gentian (Gentiana saponaria)

 

I would make a chart of our life, 
know why just this circle of creatures 
completes the world.
Henry Thoreau, April 18, 1852

Soapwort gentian -
Why come these blue flowers
thus late in the year?
September 3, 1853


September 3. The soapwort gentian out abundantly in Flint's Bridge Lane, apparently for a week; a surprisingly deep, faintly purplish blue. Crowded bunches of ten or a dozen sessile and closed narrow or oblong diamond or sharp dome shape flowers. The whole bunch like many sharp domes of an Oriental city crowded together. I have here actually drawn my pen round one.

It is the flowering of the sky. The sky has descended and kissed the earth. In (at top) a whorl of clear, smooth, rich green leaves. Why come these blue flowers thus late in the year? A dome-like crowd of domelets. September 3, 1853


September 5. A soapwort gentian by river; remarkably early (?). The top has been bitten off! September 5, 1854


September 6. Soapwort gentian, out not long. September 6, 1857


September 8.  Gentiana saponaria out.  September 8, 1852


September 19. The soapwort gentian now. September 19, 1851


September 19.  The soapwort gentian cheers and surprises, -- solid bulbs of blue from the shade, the stale grown purplish. It abounds along the river, after so much has been mown. September 19, 1852


September 22. The soapwort gentian the flower of the river-banks now. September 22, 1852


September 25. You notice now the dark-blue dome of the soapwort gentian in cool and shady places under the bank. September 25, 1857


September 27. The soapwort gentian looks like a flower prematurely killed by the frost.  September 27, 1851


October 7. I notice the Viola ovata, houstonia, Ranunculus repens, caducous polygala, small scratch-grass polygonum, autumnal dandelion ( very abundant, yellowing the low turfy grounds and hills), small bushy white aster, a few goldenrods, Polygonum hydropiperoides and the unknown flowerless bidens, soapwort gentian (now turned dark purple) . . . October 7, 1852


October 23.  Sal Cummings, a thorough countrywoman, conversant with nuts and berries, calls the soapwort gentian “blue vengeance,” mistaking the word. A masculine wild eyed woman of the fields. October 23, 1857


October 29. Soapwort gentian and pasture thistle still. October 29, 1855


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

Thursday, August 27, 2020

Topping corn now reveals the yellowing pumpkins. September is at hand.


August 27. 

Saturday. P. M. – To Walden. 

Topping corn now reveals the yellowing pumpkins. 

Dangle-berries very large in shady copses now; seem to love wet weather; have lost their bloom. 

Aster undulatus. 

The decurrent gnaphalium has not long shown yellow. Perhaps I made it blossom a little too early. 

September is at hand; the first month (after the summer heat) with a burr to it, month of early frosts; but December will be tenfold rougher. 

January relents for a season at the time of its thaw, and hence that liquid r in its name.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, August 27, 1853

Topping corn now reveals the yellowing pumpkins.  See August 28, 1859 ("Pumpkins begin to be yellow."); September 4, 1859 ("Topping the corn, which has been going on some days, now reveals the yellow and yellowing pumpkins. This is a genuine New England scene. The earth blazes not only with sun-flowers but with sun-fruits."); September 18, 1858 ("The earth is yellowing in the September sun.")

Wednesday, September 11, 2019

September is the month when various small, and commonly inedible, berries in cymes and clusters hang over the roadsides and along the walls and fences, or spot the forest floor

September 11. 

P.M. — To Conantum-end. 

The prinos berries are now seen, red (or scarlet), clustered along the stems, amid the as yet green leaves. A cool red.

By the pool in Hubbard's Grove, I see tall tupelos, all dotted with the now ripe (apparently in prime) small oval purple berries, two or three together on the end of slender peduncles, amid the reddening leaves. This fruit is very acid and has a large stone, but I see several robins on the trees, which appear to have been attracted by it. Neither tree nor fruit is generally known, and many liken the former when small to a pear. The trees are quite full of fruit. 

The wax-like fruit of Cornus paniculata still holds on abundantly. 

This being a cloudy and somewhat rainy day, the autumnal dandelion is open in the afternoon.

The Rhus Toxicodendron berries are now ripe and greenish-yellow, and some already shrivelled, over bare rocks. 

September is the month when various small, and commonly inedible, berries in cymes and clusters hang over the roadsides and along the walls and fences, or spot the forest floor. 

The clusters of the Viburnum Lentago berries, now in their prime, are exceedingly and peculiarly handsome, and edible withal. These are drooping, like the Cornus sericea cymes. Each berry in the cyme is now a fine, clear red on the exposed side and a distinct and clear green on the opposite side. Many are already purple, and they turn in your hat, but they are handsomest when thus red and green. 

The large clusters of the Smilacina racemosa berries, four or five inches long, of whitish berries a little smaller than a pea, finely marked and dotted with vermilion or bright red, are very conspicuous. I do not chance to see any ripe. 

No fruit is handsomer than the acorn. I see but few fallen yet, and they are all wormy. Very pretty, especially, are the white oak acorns, three raying from one centre. 

I see dill and saffron still, commonly out at R. W. E.'s.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, September 11, 1859




September is the month when various small, and commonly inedible, berries in cymes and clusters hang over the roadsides and along the walls and fences, or spot the forest floor.
See September 3, 1853 ("Now is the season for those comparatively rare but beautiful wild berries which are not food for man.. . .Berries which are as beautiful as flowers, but far less known, the fruit of the flower.") See also August 27, 1856 ("There are many wild-looking berries about now.");  September 1, 1854 ("The Cornus sericea berries are now in prime, of different shades of blue, lighter or darker, and bluish white."); September 1, 1856 ("Cohush berries appear now to be in their prime, and arum berries, and red choke-berries, which last further up in this swamp, with their peculiar glossy red and squarish form, are really very handsome. A few medeola berries ripe."); September 2, 1853 ("The dense oval bunches of arum berries now startle the walker in swamps. They are a brilliant vermilion on a rich ground . . . The medeola berries are now dull glossy and almost blue-black; about three, on slender threads one inch long, arising in the midst of the cup formed by the purple bases of the whorl of three upper leaves."); ); September 3, 1856 (A singular and pleasing contrast, also, do the different kinds of viburnum and cornel berries present when compared with each other. "); September 4, 1859 (See a very large mass of spikenard berries fairly ripening, eighteen inches long").

The clusters of the Viburnum Lentago berries, now in their prime, are exceedingly and peculiarly handsome, and edible withal.
 See August 21, 1853 ("The Viburnum Lentago berries are but just beginning to redden on one cheek.”); August 23, 1853 (".How handsome now the cymes of Viburnum Lentago berries, flattish with red cheeks!”); August 25, 1852 ("The fruit of the Viburnum Lentago is now very handsome, with its sessile cymes of large elliptical berries, green on one side and red with a purple bloom on the other or exposed side, not yet purple, blushing on one cheek.”);    August 27, 1854 (Some Viburnum Lentago berries, turned blue before fairly reddening."); . August 27, 1856 ("The Viburnum Lentago begin to show their handsome red cheeks, rather elliptic-shaped and mucronated, one cheek clear red with a purplish bloom, the other pale green, now. Among the handsomest of berries, one half inch long by three eighths by two eighths, being somewhat flattish"); August 30, 1853 ("Viburnum Lentago berries are now common and handsome");September 1, 1854 ("The Viburnum Lentago are just fairly begun to have purple cheeks."); September 13, 1856 ("The Viburnum Lentago, which I left not half turned red when I went up-country a week ago, are now quite black-purple and shrivelled like raisins on my table, and sweet to taste, though chiefly seed."); Also see A Book of the Seasons,by Henry Thoreau, The Viburnum lentago (Nannyberry)


September  – the month 
when various berries  hang
in cymes and clusters.

A Book of the Seasons: September Days



A year is made up of 
a certain series and number 
of sensations and thoughts 
which have their language in nature.

Henry Thoreau, June 6, 1857

I would know when in the year
to expect certain thoughts and moods,
as the sportsman knows 
when to look for plover.

*** 





September 1.
Thistle-down descends
Smooth lake, full of reflections,
the ripening year.
September 1, 1852



Now after the rain
the air of late is cooler,
clearer, autumnal.

A season for berries
as beautiful as flowers,
berries far less known.

These mornings I move
into an eastern chamber
to sit in the sun.

September 5.
Water rises, winds come,
weeds are drifted to the shore.
The water is cleared.
September 5, 1854

Incessant flashes
lighting the edge of the cloud –
a rush of cool wind.

Paddling without sound
toward clouds in the sunset sky
as the twilight fades.

The ripening year
all my thoughts break out spotted
yellow green and brown.

September 9.
Liatris blooming
rich fiery rose-purple
like the sun rising.
September 9, 1852

Dew on a fine grass
white and silvery as frost
seen against the sun.

This cold white twilight
and bright starlight makes us think
of wood for winter.

One dense mass of the 
bright-golden solidago
waving in the wind. 

September 13.
Here at this season
a golden blaze salutes me
from a thousand suns.

With their shrill whistle
tell-tales sailing in a flock
showing their white tails.

Let the traveller
bethink himself
elevate and expand
his thoughts somewhat

that his successors
may oftener hereafter
be cheered by the sight
here and there

of a New England aster  
to remind him that
a poet or philosopher
has passed this way.

Witch-hazel opened.
A third or a half its leaves 
are yellow and brown. 

Shadow transits rock,
 eight or ten in sight from cliffs.
Such a day for hawks. 

September 17.
Each plant has its turn! – as if the seasons revolve for it alone. September 17, 1857




Corn-stalk tops are stacked
potatoes are being dug –
the season of fairs.


To live each season
as if nothing else to do
but live each season.


The dimpling circles
inscribed and erased amid
the reflected skies.

On Heywood's Peak by Walden. —
    
    How soothing to sit on a stump
    on this height overlooking the pond

    and study the dimpling circles
    which are incessantly inscribed

    and again erased 
    on the smooth and otherwise
 
    invisible surface 
    amid the reflected skies! 


The first frost last night –
cold but a fine clear day for
an afternoon walk.

These bracing fine days
when frosts come to ripen the
year, the days, like fruit.

The summer concludes
with the crisis of first frosts.
The end of berries.

Suddenly withered
rich brown button-bushes now
paint the river’s brim.

I am detained by
the bright red blackberry leaves
strewn along the sod.

Single red maples
bright against the cold green pines
now seen a mile off.

A little dipper
in middle of the river.
I sit down and watch.

The first severe frost
in the garden this morning,
ice under the pump.

Cool breezy evening
with a prolonged white twilight,
quite Septemberish.

Insects in my path.
Each has a special errand
in this world, this hour.


“The year is but a succession of days,
and I see that I could assign
 some office to each day
which, summed up, would be
 the history of the year.”
Henry Thoreau, August 24, 1852

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A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau. September Days

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


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