A Book of the Seasons: September 17: (cooler weather, wild grapes, bees and butterflies, each plant has its turn, what me hurry?)

 

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 

September 17.

I am glad to sit

in the sun on the east side

of the house mornings –

Cooler weather now

for two or three days.

Methinks, too, that there

are more sparrows in flocks now

about in garden.

September 17, 1858

September 17, 2016

Cooler weather now for two or three days, so that I am glad to sit in the sun on the east side of the house mornings. September 17, 1858

Methinks, too, that there are more sparrows in flocks now about in garden, etc.  September 17, 1858

River rising fast, from yesterday’s rain. September 17, 1858

Perambulated the Lincoln line. September 17, 1851

Came upon a nighthawk on the ground in Thrush Alley. September 17, 1852

What produces this flashing air of autumn? — a brightness as if there were not green enough to absorb the light, now that the first frosts wither the herbs.   September 17, 1852

The corn-stalks are stacked like muskets along the fields.  September 17, 1852

I hear the downy woodpecker whistle, and see him looking about the apple trees as if to bore him a hole. Are they returning south?   September 17, 1852

I see several apple trees that were blown down yesterday and some pretty large elm limbs. September 17, 1858

The orchards are strewn with windfalls, mostly quite  green.   September 17, 1858

Is it the alder locust that rings so loud in low land now?  September 17, 1852

The umbel-shaped smilax berry clusters are now ripe.  September 17, 1852

Abundance of wild grapes.   September 17, 1852

Still the oxalis blows, and yellow butterflies are on the flowers.   September 17, 1852

Paddle round Beaver Pond . . . now more inaccessible than usual on account of the rain and high water. A singularly muddy hole.  September 17, 1858

See a flock of eight or ten wood ducks on the Grindstone Meadow, with glass, some twenty-five rods off, — several drakes very handsome.  September 17, 1860

At last one sails off

 calling the others by 

a short creaking note. 

 September 17, 1860

Was it the small rough sunflower which I saw this morning at the brook near Lee's Bridge? September 17, 1851

Saw at James Baker's a buttonwood tree with a swarm of bees now three years in it, but honey and all inaccessible. September 17, 1851

One of those great puffballs, three inches in diameter, ripe.   September 17, 1857

Swamp all dry now; could not wash my hands.  September 17, 1851

The pontederia leaves are sere and brown along the river.  September 17, 1852

The yellow lily pads are apparently decayed generally; as I wade, I tread on their great roots only; and the white lily pads are thinned.  September 17, 1852

See elecampane, quite out of bloom. September 17, 1858

Also the Solidago odora, which I see has just done. September 17, 1858

The fall is further advanced in the water, as the spring was earlier there. I should say that the vegetation of the river was a month further advanced in its decay than of the land generally.  September 17, 1852

I go to Fair Haven Hill, looking at the varieties of nabalus, which have a singular prominence now in all woods and roadsides.  September 17, 1857

How perfectly each plant has its turn! – as if the seasons revolved for it alone.  September 17, 1857

Why, then, should man hasten as if anything less than eternity were allotted for the least deed? September 17, 1839  

Nature never makes haste; her systems revolve at an even pace. The bud swells imperceptibly, without hurry or confusion, as though the short spring days were an eternity. September 17, 1839 

The wise man is restful, never restless or impatient. He each moment abides there where he is, as some walkers actually rest the whole body at each step.  September 17, 1839  

September 17, 2019

*****

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Reminiscence and Prompting

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau,  The Downy Woodpecker

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, As the Seasons Revolve

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Wood Sorrel (Oxalis)

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Aromatic Herbs

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Yellow Butterflies

A Book of Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, the Nighthawk

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Helianthus

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, The Grape

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, Bees

*****

April 24, 1859 ("Man's moods and thoughts revolve just as steadily and incessantly as nature’s.")

July 19, 1851 (" Yesterday it was spring, and to-morrow it will be autumn. Where is the summer then? Methinks my seasons revolve more slowly than those of nature; I am differently timed. Here I am thirty-four years old, and yet my life is almost wholly unexpanded. How much is in the germ! I may say I am unborn. If my curve is large, why bend it to a smaller circle? If life is a waiting, so be it. I am contented. Already the goldenrod is budded, but I can make no haste for that. Let a man step to the music which he hears, however measured.”)

July 19, 1851 ("This rapid revolution of nature, even of nature in me, why should it hurry me?")

July 29, 1853 (“The sight of the small rough sunflower about a dry ditch bank and hedge advances me at once further toward autumn.”)

August 1, 1852 ("The small rough sunflower (Helianthus divaricatus) tells of August heats”);
August 13, 1858 ("H. divaricatus was abundantly out on the 11th.");
August 13, 1856 (". Is there not now a prevalence of aromatic herbs in prime? — The polygala roots, blue-curls, wormwood, pennyroyal, Solidago odora, rough sunflowers, horse-mint, etc., etc. Does not the season require this tonic? ")

August 14, 1856 ("Solidago odora abundantly out.")

 August 15, 1851 ("Oxalis stricta, upright wood-sorrel, the little yellow ternate-leaved flower in pastures and corn-fields. ")

August 19, 1851("The seasons do not cease a moment to revolve, and therefore Nature rests no longer at her culminating point than at any other. If you are not out at the right instant, the summer may go by and you not see it.”)

August 19, 1851 ("Small rough sunflower by side of road between canoe birch and White Pond")

August 19, 1851 ("The seasons do not cease a moment to revolve, and therefore Nature rests no longer at her culminating point than at any other.")
August 30, 1853 ("The Solidago odora grows abundantly behind the Minott house in Lincoln. I collect a large bundle of it.")

September 2, 1856 ("Also, a short time ago, I was satisfied that there was but one kind of sunflower (divaricatus) indigenous here.")

September 4, 1860 ("It is cooler these days and nights, and I move into an eastern chamber in the morning, that I may sit in the sun.")

September 10, 1860 ("Almost every plant, however humble, has thus its day,")

September 13, 1852 (“How earnestly and rapidly each creature, each flower, is fulfilling its part while its day lasts! . . . The plant waits a whole year, and then blossoms the instant it is ready and the earth is ready for it, without the conception of delay.”)

September 13, 1857 ("The nabalus family generally, apparently now in prime.”)

September 13, 1858 ("Many yellow butterflies in road and fields all the country over.”) 
September 14,1851("The corn-stalks standing in stacks, in long rows along the edges of the corn-fields, remind me of stacks of muskets.")

The corn-stalks standing

in stacks in long rows along

edges of corn-fields.

September 14,1851

September 15, 1851 ("Commenced perambulating the town bounds")
Septembeer 16, 1851 ("The inhabitants of Lincoln yield sooner than usual to the influence of the rising generation, and are a mixture of rather simple but clever with a well-informed and trustworthy people.")

 Each plant has its turn! –

as if the seasons revolve 

for it alone.

.September 17, 1857 

The wise man abides 

each moment there where he is 

September 17, 1839 

September 18, 1851 ("Perambulated Bedford line.")

September 18, 1858 ("Finding grapes, we proceeded to pluck them, tempted more by their fragrance and color than their flavor, though some were very palatable. We gathered many without getting out of the boat. . .  Thus laden, the evening air wafting the fragrance of the cargo back to us, we paddled homeward. ")

September 18, 1852 ("In the forenoons I move into a chamber on the east side of the house, and so follow the sun round.”)
September 23, 1857 (“Varieties of nabalus grow along the Walden road in the woods; also, still more abundant, by the Flint's Pond road in the woods.”), and note to

October 20, 1858 ("I see yellow butterflies chasing one another, taking no thought for the morrow, but confiding in the sunny day as if it were to be perpetual.")

December 2, 1850 ("The woodpeckers' holes in the apple trees are about a fifth of an inch deep or just through the bark and half an inch apart. ")

December 5, 1853 ("See and hear a downy woodpecker on an apple tree. Have not many winter birds, like this and the chickadee, a sharp note like tinkling glass or icicles?")

December 14, 1855 ("I heard the sound of a downy woodpecker tapping . . . Frequently, when I pause to listen, I hear this sound in the orchards or streets.")

December 21, 1855 ( "Going to the post-office at 9 A. M. this very pleasant morning, . . . scare a downy woodpecker and a brown creeper in company")

December 30, 1855 ("See one downy woodpecker and one or two chickadees.")

January 5, 1860 ("I see where the downy woodpecker has worked lately by the chips of bark and rotten wood scattered over the snow, though I rarely see him in the winter. Once to-day, however, I hear his sharp voice.")

January 20, 1856 ("A downy woodpecker without red on head the only bird seen in this walk.”)

September 17, 2022

If you make the least correct 

observation of nature this year,

 you will have occasion to repeat it

 with illustrations the next, 

and the season and life itself is prolonged.

  April 7, 1853 

September 16 <<<<<<<<<   September 17 >>> >>>>>  September 18

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, September 17 

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 © 2009-2022

tinyurl.com/HDT17SEPT 

As the wise is not anxious that time wait for him, neither does he wait for it

September 17

Septemeber 17, 2019

Nature never makes haste; her systems revolve at an even pace.

The bud swells imperceptibly, without hurry or confusion, as though the short spring days were an eternity.

All her operations seem separately, for the time, the single object for which all things tarry.

Why, then, should man hasten as if anything less than eternity were allotted for the least deed?

Let him consume never so many æons, so that he go about the meanest task well, though it be but the paring of his nails.

If the setting sun seems to hurry him to improve the day while it lasts, the chant of the crickets fails not to reassure him, even-measured as of old, teaching him to take his own time henceforth forever.

The wise man is restful, never restless or impatient. 

He each moment abides there where he is, as some walkers actually rest the whole body at each step.

As the wise is not anxious that time wait for him, neither does he wait for it.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, September 17, 1839

Nature never makes haste; her systems revolve at an even pace. See September 17, 1857 ("How perfectly each plant has its turn! – as if the seasons revolved for it alone."); September 10, 1860 ("Almost every plant, however humble, has thus its day,"); September 24, 1859 ("Great works of art have endless leisure for a background, as the universe has space. Time stands still while they are created. The artist cannot be in [a] hurry. The earth moves round the sun with inconceivable rapidity, and yet the surface of the lake is not ruffled by it. "); see also September 13, 1852 ("The plant waits a whole year, and then blossoms the instant it is ready and the earth is ready for it, without the conception of delay."); July 19, 1851 ("This rapid revolution of nature, even of nature in me, why should it hurry me?"); August 19, 1851 ("The seasons do not cease a moment to revolve, and therefore Nature rests no longer at her culminating point than at any other.");  May 19, 1854 ("With what unobserved secure dispatch nature advances! . . . There is not an instant's pause!"); April 24, 1859 ("Man's moods and thoughts revolve just as steadily and incessantly as nature’s."); and also see A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, As the Seasons Revolve; A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Nature

As the wise is not anxious that time wait for him, neither does he wait for it.  See Walden, An artist in the city of Kouroo ("As he made no compromise with Time, Time kept out of his way,")

Perambulated the Lincoln line.

September 17.

Perambulated the Lincoln line.

Was it the small rough sunflower which I saw this morning at the brook near Lee's Bridge?

Saw at James Baker's a buttonwood tree with a swarm of bees now three years in it, but honey and all inaccessible.

John W. Farrar tells of sugar maples behind Miles's in the Corner.

Did I see privet in the swamp at the Bedford stone near Giles's house?

Swamp all dry now; could not wash my hands.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, September 17, 1851

Perambulated the Lincoln line. See September 15, 1851 ("Commenced perambulating the town bounds"); September 18, 1851 ("Perambulated Bedford line.") See also Septembeer 16, 1851 ("the inhabitants of Lincoln yield sooner than usual to the influence of the rising generation, and are a mixture of rather simple but clever with a well-informed and trustworthy people.")

Was it the small rough sunflower which I saw this morning at the brook near Lee's Bridge?  See July 29, 1853 (“The sight of the small rough sunflower about a dry ditch bank and hedge advances me at once further toward autumn.”); August 1, 1852 ("The small rough sunflower (Helianthus divaricatus) tells of August heats”); August 13, 1858 ("H. divaricatus was abundantly out on the 11th."); August 19, 1851 ("Small rough sunflower by side of road between canoe birch and White Pond"); September 2, 1856 ("Also, a short time ago, I was satisfied that there was but one kind of sunflower (divaricatus) indigenous here.")


Sugar maples behind Miles's in the Corner. Charles Miles (1791- 864) resided at the corner of what is now Old-Road-to-Nine-Acre-Corner and Williams Road. ~ Place Names of Henry David Thoreau in Concord, Massachusetts(and in Lincoln, Massachusetts) & Other Botanical Sites in Concord compiled by Ray Angelo; See August 11, 1852 ("Aster corymbosus, path beyond Corner Spring and in Miles Swamp."); March 24, 1853 ("The white pine wood, freshly cut, piled by the side of the Charles Miles road, is agreeable to walk beside."); February 4, 1858 ("To C. Miles Swamp. Discover the Ledum latifolium, quite abundant over a space about six rods in diameter just east of the small pond-hole."); May 17, 1858 ("What a pleasant sandy road, soaking up the rain, that from the woods to the Miles house! The house becomes a controlling feature in the landscape when there is but one or two in sight."); 

What produces this flashing air of autumn?

September 17. 

What produces this flashing air of autumn? — a brightness as if there were not green enough to absorb the light, now that the first frosts wither the herbs. 

The corn-stalks are stacked like muskets along the fields. 

The pontederia leaves are sere and brown along the river. 

The fall is further advanced in the water, as the spring was earlier there. I should say that the vegetation of the river was a month further advanced in its decay than of the land generally. 

The yellow lily pads are apparently decayed generally; as I wade, I tread on their great roots only; and the white lily pads are thinned. 

Now, before any effects of the frost are obvious on the leaves, I observe two black rows of dead pontederia in the river. 

Is it the alder locust that rings so loud in low land now? 

The umbel-shaped smilax berry clusters are now ripe. 

Still the oxalis blows, and yellow butterflies are on the flowers. 

I hear the downy woodpecker whistle, and see him looking about the apple trees as if to bore him a hole. Are they returning south? 

Abundance of wild grapes. I laid down some wild red grapes in front of the Cliffs, three united to a two-thirds-inch stock, many feet from the root, under an alder marked with two or three small sticks atop, and, ten feet north, two more of different stocks, one-half inch diameter, directly on the edge of the brook, their tops over the water, the shell of a five-inch log across them.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, September 17, 1852

The corn-stalks are stacked like muskets along the fields. See September 14,1851("The corn-stalks standing in stacks, in long rows along the edges of the corn-fields, remind me of stacks of muskets.")

The corn-stalks standing

in stacks in long rows along

edges of corn-fields.

September 14,1851

Still the oxalis blows, and yellow butterflies are on the flowers. See August 15, 1851 ("Oxalis stricta, upright wood-sorrel, the little yellow ternate-leaved flower in pastures and corn-fields. "); September 13, 1858 ("Many yellow butterflies in road and fields all the country over.”) and note to October 20, 1858 ("I see yellow butterflies chasing one another, taking no thought for the morrow, but confiding in the sunny day as if it were to be perpetual.")

I hear the downy woodpecker whistle, and see him looking about the apple trees as if to bore him a hole. Are they returning south? See December 2, 1850 ("The woodpeckers' holes in the apple trees are about a fifth of an inch deep or just through the bark and half an inch apart. "); December 5, 1853 ("See and hear a downy woodpecker on an apple tree. Have not many winter birds, like this and the chickadee, a sharp note like tinkling glass or icicles?");  December 14, 1855 ("I heard the sound of a downy woodpecker tapping . . . Frequently, when I pause to listen, I hear this sound in the orchards or streets.");December 21, 1855 ( "Going to the post-office at 9 A. M. this very pleasant morning, . . . scare a downy woodpecker and a brown creeper in company"); December 30, 1855 ("See one downy woodpecker and one or two chickadees."); January 5, 1860 ("I see where the downy woodpecker has worked lately by the chips of bark and rotten wood scattered over the snow, though I rarely see him in the winter. Once to-day, however, I hear his sharp voice."); January 20, 1856 ("A downy woodpecker without red on head the only bird seen in this walk.")

I laid down some wild red grapes in front of the Cliffs. Compare September 18, 1858 ("Finding grapes, we proceeded to pluck them, tempted more by their fragrance and color than their flavor, though some were very palatable. We gathered many without getting out of the boat, as we paddled back, and more on shore close to the water’s edge, piling them up in the prow of the boat till they reached to the top of the boat, — a long sloping heap of them and very handsome to behold, being of various colors and sizes, for we even added green ones for variety. Some, however, were mainly green when ripe. You cannot touch some vines without bringing down more single grapes in a shower around you than you pluck in bunches, and such as strike the water are lost, for they do not float. But it is a pity to break the handsome clusters. Thus laden, the evening air wafting the fragrance of the cargo back to us, we paddled homeward. ")

Sparrows in flocks now about in garden

September 17. 

P. M. — Ride to Beaver Pond and beyond. 

I see several apple trees that were blown down yesterday and some pretty large elm limbs. The orchards are strewn with windfalls, mostly quite green. 

Paddle round Beaver Pond in a boat, which I calked with newspaper. It has a very boggy and generally inaccessible shore, now more inaccessible than usual on account of the rain and high water. A singularly muddy hole. 

See elecampane, quite out of bloom. 

Also the Solidago odora, which I see has just done. 

River rising fast, from yesterday’s rain. 

Cooler weather now for two or three days, so that I am glad to sit in the sun on the east side of the house mornings. 

Methinks, too, that there are more sparrows in flocks now about in garden, etc.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, September 17, 1858

I am glad to sit in the sun on the east side of the house mornings. See September 4, 1860 ("It is cooler these days and nights, and I move into an eastern chamber in the morning, that I may sit in the sun. September 18, 1852 ("In the forenoons I move into a chamber on the east side of the house, and so follow the sun round.”)

Each plant has its turn.

September 17

Nabulus alba 

Thursday. 

I go to Fair Haven Hill, looking at the varieties of nabalus, which have a singular prominence now in all woods and roadsides. The lower leaves are very much eaten by insects. 

How perfectly each plant has its turn! – as if the seasons revolved for it alone. Two months ago it would have taken a sharp eye to have detected this plant. 

One of those great puffballs, three inches in diameter, ripe.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, September 17, 1857

The varieties of nabalus, which have a singular prominence now in all woods and roadsides:

• Nabalus alba = Prenanthes alba (White Lettuce) 
• Nabalus altissimus = Prenanthes altissima (Tall White Lettuce) 
• Nabalus boottii = Prenanthes bootie (Boot’s Rattlesnake Root.)
• Nabalus fraseri = Prenanthes serpentaria (Lion’s-foot)

See September 23, 1857 (“Varieties of nabalus grow along the Walden road in the woods; also, still more abundant, by the Flint's Pond road in the woods.”), and  note to September 13, 1857 ("The nabalus family generally, apparently now in prime.”)

How perfectly each plant has its turn! – as if the seasons revolved for it alone. See September 17, 1839 ("Nature never makes haste; her systems revolve at an even pace. The bud swells imperceptibly, without hurry or confusion, as though the short spring days were an eternity.") See also September 10, 1860 ("Almost every plant, however humble, has thus its day, and sooner or later becomes the characteristic feature of some part of the landscape or other."); September 13, 1852 (“How earnestly and rapidly each creature, each flower, is fulfilling its part while its day lasts! . . . The plant waits a whole year, and then blossoms the instant it is ready and the earth is ready for it, without the conception of delay.”); August 19, 1851("The seasons do not cease a moment to revolve, and therefore Nature rests no longer at her culminating point than at any other. If you are not out at the right instant, the summer may go by and you not see it.”); July 19, 1851 (" Yesterday it was spring, and to-morrow it will be autumn. Where is the summer then? Methinks my seasons revolve more slowly than those of nature; I am differently timed. Here I am thirty-four years old, and yet my life is almost wholly unexpanded. How much is in the germ! I may say I am unborn. If my curve is large, why bend it to a smaller circle? If life is a waiting, so be it. I am contented. Already the goldenrod is budded, but I can make no haste for that. Let a man step to the music which he hears, however measured.”)

One of those great puffballs.  See September 4, 1856 ("Large puffballs, sometime."); September 26, 1852 ("I see now ripe, large (three-inch), very dark chocolate(?)-colored puffballs"); October 2, 1858 ("A large chocolate-colored puffball “smokes.”")

September 17. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, September 17

Each plant has its turn –

as if the seasons revolved 

for it alone.

A Book of the Seasons,   by Henry Thoreau, Each plant has its turn.

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-570917

A Book of the Seasons: September 17.

September 17.

Abide where you are --

as some walkers rest the whole 

body at each step.

September 17, 1839

September 17. The wise man abides each moment there where he is – he rests at each step. September 17, 1839

I am glad to sit

in the sun on the east side

of the house mornings.

Methinks, too, that there

are more sparrows in flocks now

about in garden.

September 17, 1858

At last one sails off
calling the others by

 a short creaking note.
September 17, 1860

September 17, 2016

Cooler weather now for two or three days, so that I am glad to sit in the sun on the east side of the house mornings. September 17, 1858

Methinks, too, that there are more sparrows in flocks now about in garden, etc.  September 17, 1858

What produces this flashing air of autumn? — a brightness as if there were not green enough to absorb the light, now that the first frosts wither the herbs.   September 17, 1852

See a flock of eight or ten wood ducks on the Grindstone Meadow, with glass, some twenty-five rods off, — several drakes very handsome.  September 17, 1860

At last one sails off, calling the others by a short creaking note.  September 17, 1860

I go to Fair Haven Hill, looking at the varieties of nabalus, which have a singular prominence now in all woods and roadsides.  September 17, 1857

How perfectly each plant has its turn! – as if the seasons revolved for it alone.  September 17, 1857

Why, then, should man hasten as if anything less than eternity were allotted for the least deed? September 17, 1839  

Nature never makes haste; her systems revolve at an even pace. The bud swells imperceptibly, without hurry or confusion, as though the short spring days were an eternity. September 17, 1839 

The wise man is restful, never restless or impatient. He each moment abides there where he is, as some walkers actually rest the whole body at each step.  September 17, 1839  

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 © 2009-2020

Up river.

September 17.

See a flock of eight or ten wood ducks on the Grindstone Meadow, with glass, some twenty-five rods off, — several drakes very handsome. They utter a creaking scream as they sail there, — being alarmed, — from time to time, shrill and loud, very unlike the black duck. 

At last one sails off, 

calling the others by a 

short creaking note.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, September 17, 1860