Showing posts with label september 29. Show all posts
Showing posts with label september 29. Show all posts

Monday, September 29, 2025

A Book of the Seasons: The Thistle and Thistle Down

 

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

The thistle in bloom 
each child eager to clutch once - 
just a child's handful.
September 1850



March 10. Misty and mizzling. The radical leaves of the shepherd's-purse are common and fresh, also that early thistle by Nut Meadow Brook, with much down webbed, holding the mist in drops. March 10, 1854

March 29. I observe today the buttercup, very common, the pasture thistle, etc., etc., what perhaps are chickweeds? March 29, 1852

April 18. Observed a thistle just springing up in the meadow, a disk of green a few inches in diameter in the midst of the old decayed leaves, which, now being covered with rain-drops, beaded and edged - the close-packed leaves - with purple, made a very rich sight, not to be seen in dry weather. The green leaves of the thistle in a dense disk, edged with purple and covered with bead-like raindrops, just springing from the meadow. It reminded me of some delicious fruit, all ripe, quite flat. April 18, 1852

April 19. Observed the thistle again covered with the beads of rain-drops and tinged with purple on the edges of the leaves. It impressed me again as some rich fruit of the tropics ready to be eaten with a spoon. It suggests pineapples, custard-apples, or what is it? The pasture thistle April 19, 1852

June 18. Am surprised to find the Cirsium horridulum, or great yellow thistle, out, some already withering, turned a dark purple, possibly a week old.  June 18, 1854

June 24. Common yellow thistle [Cirsium horridulum] abundant about R’s; open a good while.  June 24, 1856

June 29. Canada thistle, yesterday. June 29, 1854

July 3.  The Canada thistle [Cirsium arvense]. July 3, 1853
July 6. Pasture thistle (Cirsium pumilum), out some time. A great many white ones.  July 6, 1855 [Cape Cod] 
July 9. Examine a lanceolate thistle which has been pressed and laid by a year. The papers being taken off, its head springs up more than an inch and the downy seeds begin to fly off. July 9, 1854
July 14.  Canada thistle some time on Huckleberry Pasture-side beyond. July 14, 1856
July 15.  To Ledum Swamp. First notice Canada thistle. July 15, 1859
July 17. Pasture thistle on Lee's Cliff, three or four days. July 17, 1854
July 19. Here is the Canada thistle in bloom, visited by butterflies and bees. July 19, 1851
July 22. The spear thistle [Cirsium lanceolatum] July 22, 1852
July 22. Spear-leaved thistle, apparently several days, some being withered. 
July 23. Cirsium pumilus, pasture thistle. July 23, 1852
July 23. Pasture thistle, not long. July 23, 1856 
July 25. On the farther hill in Hull, I saw a field full of Canada thistles close up to the fences on all sides, while beyond them there was none. So much for these fields having been subjected to different culture. July 25, 1851
July 29.  I found on the edge of this clearing the Cirsium muticum, or swamp thistle, abundantly in bloom. July 29, 1857  [the Maine Woods]
July 30. Is that goose-grass near yellow thistles? July 30, 1854
August 2. I see apparently a thistle-down over the river at Bittern Cliff; it is borne toward me, but when it reaches the rock some influence raises it high above the rock out of my reach. August 2, 1856
August 3.   Cirsium lanceolatum at Lee's Cliff, apparently some days. Its leaves are long-pointed and a much darker green than those of the pasture thistle.   On the under sides of its leaves I noticed very large ants attending peculiar large dark-colored aphides, for their milch cows.  August 3, 1856 
August 6. I find a bumblebee asleep in a thistle blossom (a pasture thistle)  the loiterer; having crowded himself in deep amid the dense florets, out of the reach of birds, while the sky was overcast. What a sweet couch!   August 6, 1852 
August 9. The notes of the wood pewee and warbling vireo are more prominent of late, and of the goldfinch twittering over. Does the last always utter his twitter when ascending? These are already feeding on the thistle seeds. August 9, 1856
August 9. The goldfinch nest of this forenoon is saddled on a horizontal twig of an apple,   . . . It is thickly and very warmly lined with (apparently) short thistle-down, mixed with which you see some grape-vine bark, and the rim is composed of the same shreds of bark, catkins, and some fine fibrous stems, and two or three hairs (of horse) mixed with wool (?); for only the hollow is lined with the looser or less tenacious thistle-down. This nest shows a good deal of art. August 9, 1858
August 12. I see goldfinches nowadays on the lanceolate thistles, apparently after the seeds.  It takes all the heat of the year to produce these yellow flowers. August 12, 1854
August 13. I see where the pasture thistles have apparently been picked to pieces (for their seeds? by the goldfinch?), and the seedless down strews the ground.  August 13, 1854
August 14. The Canada thistle down is now begun to fly, and I see the goldfinch upon it. August 14, 1858
August 15.  Cnicus pumilus, pasture thistle. How many insects a single one attracts ! While you sit by it, bee after bee will visit it, and busy himself probing for honey and loading himself with pollen, regardless of your over shadowing presence. He sees its purple flower from afar, and that use there is in its color.   August 15, 1851 
August 15.  On the top of the Hill I see the goldfinch eating the seeds of the Canada thistle. I rarely approach a bed of them or other thistles nowadays but I hear the cool twitter of the goldfinch about it.  August 15, 1854
August  19. The wind rises and the pasture thistle down is blown about. August 19, 1856
August  19.  I see thistle-down, grayish-white, floating low quite across Fair Haven Pond. There is wont to be just [wind] enough above the surface to drive it along. August 19, 1858
August 20.  Now the Canada thistle and the mullein crown their tops.  August 20, 1851
August 26. Radical leaves of the yellow thistle spot the meadow. August 25, 1854
August 26. As I stand there, a young male goldfinch darts away with a twitter from a spear thistle top close to my side, and, alighting near, makes frequent returns as near to me and the thistle as it dares pass, not yet knowing man well enough to fear him. August 26, 1856
August 28. A goldfinch twitters away from every thistle now, and soon returns to it when I am past. I see the ground strewn with the thistle-down they have scattered on every side. August 28, 1856 
August 30. The pasture thistle, though past its prime, is quite common, and almost every flower (i. e. thistle), wherever you meet with it, has one or more bumblebees on it, clambering over its mass of florets. . . . . . . Now that flowers are rarer, almost every one of whatever species has bees or butterflies upon it.  August 30, 1859
August 31Cirsium muticum, in Moore's Swamp behind Indian field, going out of flower; perhaps out three weeks.  August 31, 1853

September 1. 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. Here and there is a thistle-down floating on its surface, which the fishes dart at, and dimple the water, --  a delicate hint of approaching autumn, when the first thistle-down descends on some smooth lake's surface, full of reflections, in the woods, sign to the fishes of the ripening year. These white faery vessels are annually wafted over the cope of their sky. Bethink thyself, O man, when the first thistle-down is in the air. Buoyantly it floated high in air over hills and fields all day, and now, weighed down with evening dews, perchance, it sinks gently to the surface of the lake. Nothing can stay the thistle-down, but with September winds it unfailingly sets sail. The irresistible revolution of time. It but comes down upon the sea in its ship, and is still perchance wafted to the shore with its delicate sails. The thistle-down is in the air. Tell me, is thy fruit also there? Dost thou approach maturity? September 1, 1852
September 1. The cherry-birds and robins seem to know the locality of every wild cherry in the town. You are as sure to find them on them now, as bees and butterflies on the thistles.  September 1, 1859 
September 4.The swamp thistle (Cirsium muticum) is apparently in its prime. One or two on each has faded, but many more are to come. Some are six feet high and have radical leaves nearly two feet long. Even these in the shade have humblebees on them . . . Three kinds of thistles are commonly out now, — the pasture, lanceolate, and swamp, — and on them all you are pretty sure to see one or two humblebees. They become more prominent and interesting in the scarcity of purple flowers. (On many you see also the splendid goldfinch, yellow and black like the humble-bee.) The thistles beloved of humblebees and goldfinches. September 4, 1859 
September 4. The goldfinch is very busy pulling the thistle to pieces. September 4, 1860 
September 5. I see much thistle-down without the seed floating on the river and a hummingbird about a cardinal-flower over the water’s edge. September 5, 1854. .  
September 6 At Brattlebotro . . . Cirsium discolor [field thistle], roadside below depot, apparently in prime, much like lanceolatum, but smaller leaves, whitish beneath and inner scales unarmed. September 6, 1856
September 9. I see very large plants of the lanceolate thistle, four feet high and very branching. September 9, 1860
September 13 I find the large thistle (Cirsium muticum) out of bloom, seven or eight rods, perhaps, north of the potato-field and seven feet west of ditch, amid a clump of raspberry vines. September 13, 1854 
September 21. Swamp thistle [Cirsium muticum], still abundant. September 21, 1858
September 24. Pasture thistle still. September 24, 1852
September 29On our way, near the Hosmer moraine, let off some pasture thistle-down. One steadily rose from my hand, freighted with its seed, till it was several hundred feet high, and then passed out of sight eastward. Its down was particularly spreading or open. Is not here a hint to balloonists?  Astronomers can calculate the orbit of that thistle-down called the comet, now in the northwest sky, conveying its nucleus, which may not be so solid as a thistle’s seed, some whither, but what astronomer can calculate the orbit of my thistle-down and tell where it will deposit its precious freight at last?

Donati’s Comet 1858
It may still be travelling when I am sleeping. September 29, 1858 

October 5.  I amuse myself on the hilltop with pulling to pieces and letting fly the now withered and dry pasture thistle tops. They have a much coarser pappus than the milkweeds. I am surprised, amid these perfectly withered and bleached thistles, to see one just freshly in flower.  October 5, 1856

Surprised amid these
withered thistles to see one
freshly in flower.

October 8.  The seeds of the pasture thistle are not so buoyed up by their down as the milkweed. October 8, 1851
October 11. A pasture thistle with many fresh flowers and bees on it. October 11, 1856 
October 12It is interesting to see how some of the few flowers which still linger are frequented by bees and other insects. Their resources begin to fail and they are improving their last chance. 
I have noticed them of late, especially on white goldenrod and pasture thistles, etc. October 12, 1856
October 18. A large pasture thistle bud close to the ground amid its leaves, as in spring. October 18, 1856
October 29.  Soapwort gentian and pasture thistle still.  October 29, 1855
October 23A pasture thistle on Conantum just budded, but flat with the ground. October 23, 1852

November 3.  The thistle radical leaves and fragrant everlasting not to be forgotten.  November 3, 1853
November 18. The fruitless enterprise of some persons who rush helter-skelter, carrying out their crazy scheme,—merely “putting it through,” as they phrase it, — reminds me of those thistle-downs which, not being detained nor steadied by any seed at the base, are blown away at the first impulse and go rolling over all obstacles. They may indeed go fastest and farthest, but where they rest at last not even a thistle springs. I meet these useless barren thistle-downs driving over the fields. They remind me of busy merchants and brokers on ’change doing business on credit, gambling with fancy stocks, that have failed over and over again, assisted to get a-going again to no purpose,—-a great ado about no thing, — all in my eye, — with nothing to deposit, not of the slightest use to the great thistle tribe, not even tempting a jackass. When you right or extricate one of these fellows and set him before the wind again, it is worth the while to look and see if he has any seed of success under him. Such a one you may know afar — he floats more slowly and steadily— and of his enterprise expect results. November18, 1858

December 23. At Lee’s Cliff I notice these radical(?) leaves quite fresh: saxifrage, sorrel, polypody, mullein, columbine, veronica, thyme-leaved sandwort, spleenwort, strawberry, buttercup, radical johnswort, mouse-ear, radical pinweeds, cinquefoils, checkerberry, Wintergreen, thistles, catnip, Turritis strictae specially fresh and bright. December 23, 1855 
January 25, I saw to-day, where a creeping juniper had been burnt, radical leaves of johnswort, thistle, clover, dandelion, etc., as well as sorrel and veronica. January 25, 1853
January 30.   There is also the early crowfoot in some places, strawberry, mullein, and thistle leaves, and hawkweeds, etc., etc. January 30, 1854
February 12. On those parts of the hill which are bare, I see the radical leaves of the butter-cup, mouse-ear, and the thistle.  February 12, 1854
February 18. The snow is nearly all gone, . . . I step excited over the moist mossy ground, dotted with the green stars of thistles, crowfoot, etc., the outsides of which are withered. February 18, 1857 
February 27.  Among the radical leaves most common, and therefore early-noticed, are the veronica and the thistle, - green in the midst of brown and decayed; and at the bottom of little hollows in pastures, now perhaps nearly covered with ice and water.  February 27, 1860 

We live as it were
like a bee asleep in a
thistle blossom.
August 6, 1852


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

Sunday, September 29, 2019

The poet writes the history of his body.


September 29

September 29, 2019

Van der Donck says of the water-beech (buttonwood), "This tree retains the leaves later than any other tree of the woods." 

P. M. — To Goose Pond via E. Hosmer's; return by Walden. 

Found Hosmer carting out manure from under his barn to make room for the winter. He said he was tired of farming, he was too old. Quoted Webster as saying that he had never eaten the bread of idleness for a single day, and thought that Lord Brougham might have said as much with truth while he was in the opposition, but he did not know that he could say as much of himself. However, he did not wish to be idle, he merely wished to rest. 

Looked on Walden from the hill with the sawed pine stump on the north side. Scared up three black ducks, which rose with a great noise of their wings, striking the water. The hills this fall are unusually red, not only with the huckleberry, but the sumach and the blackberry vines. Walden plainly can never be spoiled by the wood- chopper, for, do what you will to the shore, there will still remain this crystal well. 

The intense brilliancy of the red-ripe maples scattered here and there in the midst of the green oaks and hickories on its hilly shore is quite charming. They are unexpectedly and incredibly brilliant, especially on the western shore and close to the water's edge, where, alternating with yellow birches and poplars and green oaks, they remind me of a line of soldiers, redcoats and riflemen in green mixed together. 

The pine is one of the richest of trees to my eye. It stands like a great moss, a luxuriant mildew, — the pumpkin pine, — which the earth produces without effort.

The poet writes the history of his body. 

Query: Would not the cellular tissue of the grass poly make good tinder? I find that, when I light it, it burns up slowly and entirely, without blaze, like spunk.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, September 29, 1851

The intense brilliancy of the red-ripe maples scattered here and there in the midst of the green oaks and hickories on its hilly shore is quite charming. See September 25, 1857 ("A single tree becomes the crowning beauty of some meadowy vale and attracts the attention of the traveller from afar."); September 26, 1854 ("Some single red maples are very splendid now, the whole tree bright-scarlet against the cold green pines; now, when very few trees are changed, a most remarkable object in the landscape; seen a mile off."); 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."); October 3, 1856 (" Especially the hillsides about Walden begin to wear these autumnal tints in the cooler air. These lit leaves, this glowing, bright-tinted shrubbery, is in singular harmony with the dry, stony shore of this cool and deep well."); October 3, 1858 ("Some particular maple among a hundred will be of a peculiarly bright and pure scarlet, and, by its difference of tint and intenser color, attract our eyes even at a distance in the midst of the crowd"); October 8, 1852 (“Nothing can exceed the brilliancy of some of the maples which stand by the shore and extend their red banners over the water.”)


Scared up three black ducks, which rose with a great noise of their wings, striking the water.
See September 24, 1855 ("See coming from the south in loose array some twenty apparently black ducks . . . for a moment assumed the outline of a fluctuating harrow"); September 30, 1853 ("Friday. Saw a large flock of black ducks flying northwest in the form of a harrow."). See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the American Black Duck

The poet writes the history of his body. See August 19, 1851 ("The poet must be continually watching the moods of his mind,"); May 23, 1853 ("The poet must bring to Nature the smooth mirror in which she is to be reflected. Every new flower that opens, no doubt, expresses a new mood of the human mind.”);  April 8, 1854 ("The poet deals with his privatest experience."); October 21, 1857 ("Is not the poet bound to write his own biography?")

Saturday, September 29, 2018

What astronomer can calculate the orbit of my thistle-down?


September 29

Fine weather. P. M. — To White Pond. 

September 29, 2018

One or two myrtle-birds in their fall dress, with brown head and shoulders, two whitish bars on wings, and bright-yellow rump. 

Sit on Clamshell, looking up the smooth stream. Two blue herons, or “herns,” as Goodwin calls them, fly sluggishly up the stream. Interesting even is a stake, with its reflection, left standing in the still river by some fisherman. 

Again we have smooth waters, yellow foliage, and faint warbling birds, etc., as in spring. The year thus repeats itself. 

Catch some of those little fuzzy gnats dancing in the air there over the shelly bank, and these are black, with black plumes, unlike those last seen over the Cassandra Pond. 

Brushed a spectrum, ghost-horse, off my face in a birch wood, by the J. P. Brown cold Heart-Leaf Pond. Head somewhat like a striped snake. 

That pond is drier than I ever saw it, perhaps [No, have seen it so before.]—all but a couple of square rods in the middle, —and now covered with cyperus, etc. The mud is cracked into large polygonal figures of four to six sides and six to twelve inches across, with cracks a half to three quarters of an inch wide.

See what must be a solitary tattler feeding by the water’s edge, and it has tracked the mud all about. It cannot be the Tringa pectoralis, for it has no conspicuous white chin, nor black dashes on the throat, nor brown on the back and wings, and I think I see the round white spots on its wings. It has not the white on wing of the peetweet, yet utters the peetweet note!— short and faint, not protracted, and not the “sharp whistle” that Wilson speaks of. 

The lespedeza leaves are all withered and ready to fall in the frosty hollows near Nut Meadow, and [in] the swamps the ground is already strewn with the first maple leaves, concealing the springiness of the soil, and many plants are prostrate there, November-like.

High up in Nut Meadow, the very brook — push aside the half-withered grass which (the farmer disdaining to cut it) conceals it — is as cool as a spring, being near its sources. 

Take perhaps our last bath in White Pond for the year. Half a dozen F. hyemalis about. 

Looking toward the sun, some fields reflect a light sheen from low webs of gossamer which thickly cover the stubble and grass. 

On our way, near the Hosmer moraine, let off some pasture thistle-down. One steadily rose from my hand, freighted with its seed, till it was several hundred feet high, and then passed out of sight eastward. Its down was particularly spreading or open. Is not here a hint to balloonists? 

Astronomers can calculate the orbit of that thistle-down called the comet, now in the northwest sky, conveying its nucleus, which may not be so solid as a thistle’s seed, some whither, but what astronomer can calculate the orbit of my thistle-down and tell where it will deposit its precious freight at last? It may still be travelling when I am sleeping. 

Donati’s Comet 1858

Some Lobelia inflata leaves peculiar hoary-white.

September 29, 2018

H. D. Thoreau,  Journal, September 29, 1858

One or two myrtle-birds in their fall dress, with brown head and shoulders, two whitish bars on wings, and bright-yellow rump. See September 23, 1855 (“A little wren-like (or female goldfinch) bird on a.willow at Hubbard’s Causeway, eating a miller: with bright-yellow rump when wings open, and white on tail. Could it have been a yellow-rump warbler?”); October 14, 1855 ("Black bill and feet, yellow rump, brown above, yellowish-brown on head, cream-colored chin, two white bars on wings, tail black, edged with white, — the yellow-rump warbler or myrtle-bird without doubt.”)

Half a dozen F. hyemalis about. See  September 29, 1854 ("I hear a very pleasant and now unusual strain on the sunny side of an oak wood from many — I think F. hyemalis, though I do not get a clear view of them. Even their slight jingling strain is remarkable at this still season.") See also September 24, 1854 (" Do I see an F. hyemalis in the Deep Cut? It is a month earlier than last yea"); October 5, 1857 ("It is evident that some phenomena which belong only to spring and autumn here . . . the myrtle-bird and F. hyemalis which breed there, but only transiently visit us in spring and fall.") 

The year thus repeats itself. See May 5, 1860 ("It takes us many years to find out that Nature repeats herself annually”)

Brushed a spectrum, ghost-horse, off my face in a birch wood. See ;  August 29, 1858 (“The ghost-horse (Spectrum) is seen nowadays, — several of them.”)

Take perhaps our last bath in White Pond for the year. See September 27, 1856 ("Bathed at Hubbard's Bath, but found the water very cold. Bathing about over”) See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Luxury of Bathing

The comet, now in the northwest sky. See September 23 , 1858 (Saw the comet very bright in the northwest. "); October 5, 1858 ("The comet makes a great show these nights.")

Thistle-down See September 1, 1852 ("These white faery vessels are annually wafted over the cope of their sky. Bethink thyself, O man, when the first thistle-down is in the air. Buoyantly it floated high in air over hills and fields all day, and now, weighed down with evening dews, perchance, it sinks gently to the surface of the lake. Nothing can stay the thistle-down, but with September winds it unfailingly sets sail. The irresistible revolution of time. It but comes down upon the sea in its ship, and is still perchance wafted to the shore with its delicate sails. The thistle-down is in the air. Tell me, is thy fruit also there? Dost thou approach maturity? ") See also A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, the Thistles

What astronomer
can calculate the orbit 
of my thistle-down?


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/HDT580929

Saturday, September 30, 2017

All sorts of men come to Cattle-Show.


September 29. 

September 29, 2017

All sorts of men come to Cattle-Show. I see one with a blue hat. 

I hear that some have gathered fringed gentian. 

Pines have begun to be parti-colored with yellow leaves.

H. D. Thoreau, JournalSeptember 29, 1857

Pines have begun to be parti-colored with yellow leaves.  See September 28, 1854 ("R. W. E.’s pines are parti-colored, preparing to fall, some of them.”): October 3, 1852 ("The pine fall, i.e. change, is commenced, and the trees are mottled green an
d yellowish.”) See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The October Pine Fall

Some have gathered fringed gentian.See  October 18, 1857 ("The fringed gentian closes every night and opens every morning in my pitcher.”); October 19, 1852 ("At 5 p. m. I found the fringed gentian now some what stale and touched by frost, being in the meadow toward Peter's. (Gentiana crinita in September, Bigelow and Gray.) ...  They are now, at 8 a. m., opening a little in a pitcher. It is too remarkable a flower not to be sought out and admired each year, however rare.. . .It is a very singular and agreeable surprise to come upon this conspicuous and handsome and withal blue flower at this season, when flowers have passed out of our minds and memories; the latest of all to begin to bloom.”) See also A Book of the Seasons by Henry Thoreau, The Fringed Gentian




Thursday, September 29, 2016

How surely the desmodium or the bidens prophesy the coming of the traveller, brute or human, that will transport their seeds on his coat!


September 29.

 P. M. — To Grape Cliff. 

September 29, 2016

The pea-vine fruit is partly ripe, little black-dotted beans, about three in a pod. 

I can hardly clamber along the grape cliff now with out getting my clothes covered with desmodium ticks, — there especially the rotundifolium and paniculatum. Though you were running for your life, they would have time to catch and cling to your clothes, — often piece of a saw blade with three teeth. You pause at a convenient place and spend a long time picking them off, which it took so short a time to attach. They will even cling to your hand as you go by. They cling like babes to the mother's breast, by instinct. Instead of being caught and detained ourselves by birdlime, we are compelled to catch these seeds and carry them with us. 

These almost invisible nets, as it were, are spread for us, and whole coveys of desmodium and bidens seeds and burs steal transportation out of us. I have found myself often covered, as it were with an imbricated scaly coat of the brown desmodium seeds or a bristling chevaux-de-frise of beggar-ticks, and had to spend a quarter of an hour or more picking them off at some convenient place; and so they got just what they wanted, deposited in another place. 

How surely the desmodium, growing on some rough cliff-side, or the bidens, on the edge of a pool, prophesy the coming of the traveller, brute or human, that will transport their seeds on his coat! 

I am late for grapes; most have fallen. The fruit of what I have called Vitis aestivalis has partly fallen. It is dark-purple, about seven sixteenths of an inch in diameter, very acid and commonly hard. Stem and petiole smooth and purplish, but leaf not smooth or green beneath. Should not this be called frost grape, rather than the earlier one I ate at Brattleboro? Grapes are singularly various for a wild fruit, like many cultivated ones. 

Dr. Reynolds told me the other day of a Canada lynx (?) killed in Andover, in a swamp, some years ago, when he was teaching school in Tewksbury; thought to be one of a pair, the other being killed or seen in Derry. Its large track was seen in the snow in Tewksbury and traced to Andover and back. They saw where it had leaped thirty feet! and where it devoured rabbits. Was on a tree when shot. Skin stuffed some where.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, September 29, 1856

Though you were running for your life, they would have time to catch and cling to your clothes, — often piece of a saw blade with three teeth.  See August 7, 1856 ("At Blackberry Steep, apparently an early broad-leafed variety of Desmodium paniculatum, two or three days. This and similar plants are common there and may almost name the place . . . All these plants seem to love a dry open hillside, a steep one. Are rarely upright, but spreading, wand-like."); August 26, 1856 ("These desmodiums are so fine and inobvious that it is difficult to detect them. I go through a grove in vain, but when I get away, find my coat covered with their pods. They found me, though I did not them.”); September 10, 1851 ("The Desmodium paniculatum of De Candolle and Gray (Hedysarum paniculatum of Linnaeus and Bigelow), tick-trefoil, with still one blossom, by the path-side up from the meadow. The rhomboidal joints of its loments adhere to my clothes. One of an interesting family that thus disperse themselves.")     See also October 2, 1852 ("The beggar-ticks (Bidens) now adhere to my clothes. I also find the desmodium sooner thus. . . than if I used my eyes alone."); October 23, 1853 ("I find my clothes all bristling as with a chevaux-de-frise of beggar-ticks, which hold on for many days. A storm of arrows these weeds have showered on me, as I went through their moats. How irksome the task to rid one's self of them! We are fain to let some adhere. Through thick and thin I wear some; hold on many days. In an instant a thousand seeds of the bidens fastened themselves firmly to my clothes, and I carried them for miles, planting one here and another there. “);  October 12, 1851 ("The seeds of the bidens,-without florets, beggar-ticks, with four-barbed awns like hay-hooks, now adhere to your clothes, so that you are all bristling with them. Certainly they adhere to nothing so readily as to woolen cloth, as if in the creation of them the invention of woolen clothing by man had been foreseen. How tenacious of its purpose to spread and plant its race. By all methods nature secures this end, whether by the balloon, or parachute, or hook, or barbed spear like this, or mere lightness which the winds can waft.")


I am late for grapes; most have fallen.
  See September 27, 1858 ("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"); October 1, 1853 ("Grapevines, curled, crisped, and browned by the frosts, are now more conspicuous than ever. Some grapes still hang on the vines."); October 2, 1857 ("Grape leaves were killed and crisped by the last frost.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Grape


A Canada lynx killed in Andover, in a swamp, some years ago
.See Natural History of Massachusetts (1842) ("The bear, wolf, lynx, wildcat, deer, beaver, and marten have disappeared "); March 23, 1856 ("I consider that the nobler animals have been exterminated here, — the cougar, panther, lynx, wolverene, wolf, bear, moose, deer, the beaver, the turkey, etc., etc., — I cannot but feel as if I lived in a tamed, and, as it were, emasculated country."); September 9, 1856) ("The most interesting sight I saw in Brattleboro was the skin and skull of a panther . . .It gave one a new idea of our American forests and the vigor of nature here."); September 11, 1860 ("George Melvin came to tell me this forenoon that a strange animal was killed on Sunday. . ."); September 13, 1860 ("Five [lynx] I have heard of (and seen three) killed within some fifteen or eighteen miles of Concord within thirty years past."); October 17, 1860 ("[I]t belongs here, - I call it the Concord lynx."); November 29, 1860("I have thought that a lynx was a bright-eyed, four-legged, furry beast of the cat kind. But he knew it to be a draught drawn by the cashier of the wildcat bank on the State treasury, payable at sight.")

Tuesday, September 29, 2015

A Book of the Seasons: September 29.


September 29.


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

I am late for grapes.
Dark-purple,
 very acid,
hard. Most have fallen.
September 29, 1856

All sorts of men come
to the Cattle-Show. I see
one with a blue hat.
September 29, 1857

What astronomer
can calculate the orbit 
of my thistle-down?
September 29, 1858

September 29, 2013


The poet writes the history of his body.  September 29, 1851

One or two myrtle-birds in their fall dress, with brown head and shoulders, two whitish bars on wings, and bright-yellow rump. September 29, 1858

The intense brilliancy of the red-ripe maples scattered here and there in the midst of the green oaks and hickories on its hilly shore.September 29, 1851

alternating with yellow birches and poplars and green oaks, they remind me of a line of soldiers, redcoats and riflemen in green mixed together.  September 29, 1851

Again we have smooth waters, yellow foliage, and faint warbling birds, etc., as in spring. The year thus repeats itself. September 29, 1858

Astronomers can calculate the orbit of that thistle-down called the comet, now in the northwest sky, conveying its nucleus, which may not be so solid as a thistle’s seed, some whither, but what astronomer can calculate the orbit of my thistle-down and tell where it will deposit its precious freight at last? It may still be travelling when I am sleeping.    September 29, 1858

All sorts of men come to Cattle-Show. I see one with a blue hat. September 29, 1857

I hear that some have gathered fringed gentian. September 29, 1857

Pines have begun to be parti-colored with yellow leaves. September 29, 1857





September 29, 2018
 September 28, 1854 ("R. W. E.’s pines are parti-colored, preparing to fall, some of them.”):October 3, 1852 ("The pine fall, i.e. change, is commenced, and the trees are mottled green and yellowish.”)

  October 18, 1857 ("The fringed gentian closes every night and opens every morning in my pitcher.”); October 19, 1852 ("At 5 p. m. I found the fringed gentian now some what stale and touched by frost, being in the meadow toward Peter's. (Gentiana crinita in September, Bigelow and Gray.) ...  They are now, at 8 a. m., opening a little in a pitcher. It is too remarkable a flower not to be sought out and admired each year, however rare.. . .It is a very singular and agreeable surprise to come upon this conspicuous and handsome and withal blue flower at this season, when flowers have passed out of our minds and memories; the latest of all to begin to bloom.”) See also  A Book of the Seasons by Henry Thoreau, The Fringed Gentian 

 September 23, 1855 (“A little wren-like (or female goldfinch) bird on a.willow at Hubbard’s Causeway, eating a miller: with bright-yellow rump when wings open, and white on tail. Could it have been a yellow-rump warbler?”); October 14, 1855 ("Black bill and feet, yellow rump, brown above, yellowish-brown on head, cream-colored chin, two white bars on wings, tail black, edged with white, — the yellow-rump warbler or myrtle-bird without doubt.”)

 May 5, 1860 ("It takes us many years to find out that Nature repeats herself annually”)



 September 23 , 1858 ("saw the comet very bright in the northwest. "); October 5, 1858 ("The comet makes a great show these nights.")

October 3, 1856 (" Especially the hillsides about Walden begin to wear these autumnal tints in the cooler air. These lit leaves, this glowing, bright-tinted shrubbery, is in singular harmony with the dry, stony shore of this cool and deep well.")

See August 19, 1851 ("The poet must be continually watching the moods of his mind,"); April 8, 1854 ("The poet deals with his privatest experience."); October 21, 1857 ("Is not the poet bound to write his own biography?")

September 29, 2017


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 © 2009-2019


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