Showing posts with label september 5. Show all posts
Showing posts with label september 5. Show all posts

Monday, September 5, 2022

By moonlight at Potter's Field toward Bear Garden Hill, 8 P. M.

 Moonlight on Fair Haven Pond 


Seen from the Cliffs  a
sheeny lake in the midst of 
a boundless forest
the windy surf sounding
 freshly and wildly in the 
single pine behind you

the silence of hushed 
wolves in the wilderness and
as you fancy moose 
looking off from the 
shore of the lake --

 the stars of 
poetry history 
unexplored nature 
looking down on the scene.

This is my world now.

Fair Haven by moonlight. 
A dull whitish mark curving 
northward through forest

lies there like a lake
in the Maine wilderness 
untrodden by man. 

This light and this hour 
take the civilization 
out of the landscape. 

Even village dogs 
bay to the moon --
in forests like this 
we listen to hear wolves
 howl to Cynthia. 

Even at this hour
in the evening --
the crickets chirp
the wind roars in the wood as 
if  just before dawn. 

The moonlight seems to 
linger as if giving way to 
light of coming day. 

Moonlit landscapes from
 the slightest elevation 
are seen remotely 

flattened as it were 
into mere light and shade  
open field and forest
like the surface of 
the earth seen from the 
top of a mountain. 

How much excited 
we are by a great many
particular fragrances -- 

 now at night a field
of ripening corn that has 
been topped with the stalks 

stacked up to dry  – an 
inexpressibly dry rich 
sweet ripening scent!

Is not the whole air 
a compound of such odors 
undistinguishable? 

What an herb-garden! 
Drying corn-stalks in a field --

I feel as if 
were an ear of 
ripening corn myself.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, September 5, 1851

By moonlight in forests like this we listen to hear wolves howl to Cynthia.






By moonlight at Potter's Field toward Bear Garden Hill, 8 P. M. 

The whip-poor-wills sing . . . Moonlight on Fair Haven Pond seen from the Cliffs. A sheeny lake in the midst of a boundless forest, the windy surf sounding freshly and wildly in the single pine behind you; the silence of hushed wolves in the wilderness, and, as you fancy, moose looking off from the shore of the lake. 

September 5, 2019

The stars of poetry and history and unexplored nature looking down on the scene.  This is my world now, with a dull whitish mark curving north ward through the forest marking the outlet to the lake. 

Fair Haven by moonlight lies there like a lake in the Maine wilderness in the midst of a primitive forest untrodden by man. This light and this hour take the civilization all out of the landscape. 

Even in villages dogs bay the moon; in forests like this we listen to hear wolves howl to Cynthia.

Even at this hour in the evening the crickets chirp, the small birds peep, the wind roars in the wood, as if it were just before dawn. 
The moonlight seems to linger as if it were giving way to the light of coming day. 

The landscape seen from the slightest elevation by moonlight is seen remotely, and flattened, as it were, into mere light and shade, open field and forest, like the surface of the earth seen from the top of a mountain.


How much excited we are, how much recruited, by a great many particular fragrances! A field of ripening corn, now at night, that has been topped, with the stalks stacked up to dry, – an inexpressibly dry, rich, sweet ripening scent. I feel as if I were an ear of ripening corn myself. Is not the whole air then a compound of such odors undistinguishable? Drying corn-stalks in a field; what an herb-garden!


H. D. Thoreau, Journal, September 5, 1851

Moonlight on Fair Haven Pond seen from the Cliffs. A sheeny lake in the midst of a boundless forest. See June 14, 1851 ("The moon was now seen rising over Fair Haven and at the same time reflected in the river, pale and white like a silvery cloud,");September 4, 1854 ("To Fair Haven Pond by boat. Full moon; bats flying about; skaters and water bugs like sparks of fire on the surface between us and the moon.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, September Moonlight

I feel as if I were an ear of ripening corn myself.
See July 12, 1851 ("The earliest corn is beginning to show its tassels now, and I scent it as I walk, — its peculiar dry scent."); September 2, 1851 ("A writer, a man writing, is the scribe of all nature; he is the corn and the grass and the atmosphere writing."); 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 14, 1851 ("The corn-stalks standing in stacks, in long rows along the edges of the corn-fields."); October 6, 1858 ("The corn stands bleached and faded — quite white in the twilight")

Sunday, September 5, 2021

It was the event of our walk, and we were proud to wear this badge




September 5. 


P. M. – To Ball's Hill.

The brink of the river is still quite interesting in some respects, and to some eyes more interesting than ever.

Though the willows and button-bushes have already assumed an autumnal hue, and the pontederia is extensively crisped and blackened, the dense masses of mikania, now, it may be, paler than before, are perhaps more remarkable than ever.

I see some masses of it, overhanging the deep water and completely concealing the bush that supports them, which are as rich a sight as any flower we have, — little terraces of contiguous corymbs, like mignonette (?).

Also the dodder is more revealed, also draping the brink over the water.

The mikania is sometimes looped seven or eight feet high to a tree above the bushes, a manifest vine, with its light-colored corymbs at intervals.

See the little dippers back.

Did I not see a marsh hawk in imperfect plumage? Quite brown, with some white midway the wing and tips of wings black?

What further adds to the beauty of the bank is the hibiscus, in prime and the great bidens.

Having walked through a quantity of desmodium under Ball's Hill , by the shore there (Marilandicum or rigidum), we found our pants covered with its seeds to a remarkable and amusing degree. These green scales closely covering and greening my legs reminded me of the lemna on a ditch. It amounted to a kind of coat of mail.

It was the event of our walk, and we were proud to wear this badge, as if he were the most distinguished who had the most on his clothes.
My companion expressed a certain superstitious feeling about it, for he said he thought it would not be right to walk intentionally amid the desmodium so as to get more of the ticks on us, nor yet to pick them off, but they must be carried about till they are rubbed off accidentally.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, September 5, 1860

Though the willows and button-bushes have already assumed an autumnal hue, the dense masses of mikaniaare perhaps more remarkable than ever.
See August 2, 1860 ("Mikania begun, and now, perhaps, the river's brink is at its height. "); August 22, 1858 ("Now that the mikania begins to prevail the button-bush has done . . . and the willows are already somewhat crisped and imbrowned"); August 29, 1858 ("The mikania is apparently in prime or a little past."); September 20, 1859 ("The button-bushes by the river are generally overrun with the mikania.")

See the little dippers back. See September 8, 1859 ("See the black head and neck of a little dipper in mid stream, a few rods before my boat. It disappears, and though I search carefully, I cannot detect it again."); September 9, 1858 ("At length the walker who sits meditating on a distant bank sees the little dipper sail out from amid the weeds and busily dive for its food along their edge: Yet ordinary eyes might range up and down the river all day and never detect its small black head above the water."); September 27, 1860 ("I see a little dipper in the middle of the river.. . .It has a dark bill and considerable white on the sides of the head or neck, with black between it, no tufts, and no observable white on back or tail.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Little Dipper

Did I not see a marsh hawk in imperfect plumage? Quite brown, with some white midway the wing and tips of wings black?
See April 10, 1853 ("Saw a pretty large narrow-winged hawk with a white rump and white spots or bars on under ( ?) side of wings. Probably the female or young of a marsh hawk."); April 13, 1854 (" A small brown hawk with white on rump — I think too small for a marsh hawk — sailed low over the meadow. [May it have been a young male harrier?]");  April 23, 1855 ("I have seen also for some weeks occasionally a brown hawk with white rump, flying low, which I have thought the frog hawk in a different stage of plumage; but can it be at this season? and is it not the marsh hawk? Yet it is not so heavy nearly as the hen-hawk -- probably female hen-harrier [i. e. marsh hawk]"); October 18, 1855 ("A large brown marsh hawk comes beating the bush along the river, and ere long a slate-colored one (male), with black tips, is seen circling against a distant wood-side."); May 14, 1857 ("See a pair of marsh hawks, the smaller and lighter-colored male, with black tips to wings, and the large brown female, sailing low") See also  A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau,  the Marsh Hawk (Northern Harrier)


Having walked through a quantity of desmodium under Ball's Hill we found our pants covered with its seeds to a remarkable and amusing degree. See August 19, 1856 ("Some of these desmodiums, the paniculatum, Marilandicum, nudiflorum, rigidum, and Dillenii, are so fine and inobvious that a careless observer would look through their thin flowery panicles without observing any flower at all.");  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 29, 1856 ("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!"); October 2, 1852 ("I also find the desmodium sooner thus. . . than if I used my eyes alone.")


What further adds to the beauty of the bank is the great bidens.
September 13, 1852 ("The great bidens in the sun in brooks affects me as the rose of the fall, the most flavid product of the water and the sun. They are low suns in the brook. The golden glow of autumn concentrated, more golden than the sun. . . . If I come by at this season, a golden blaze will salute me here from a thousand suns.")

Saturday, September 5, 2020

An island of Aster puniceus, five feet high.


September 5. 

To Framingham. 

Saw, in a meadow in Wayland, at a little distance, what I have no doubt was an island of Aster puniceus, one rod in diameter, - one mass of flowers five feet high.


H. D. Thoreau, Journal, September 5, 1853

An island of Aster puniceus, one rod in diameter, - one mass of flowers five feet high. October 7, 1857 ("Crossing Depot Brook, I see many yellow butterflies fluttering about the Aster puniceus, still abundantly in bloom there.")

Thursday, September 5, 2019

A millstone for my lead-mill.

September 5. 

Spent a part of the forenoon in the woods in the northwest part of Acton, searching for a stone suitable for a millstone for my lead-mill.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, September 5, 1859




The Thoreaus gave up making pencils in 1853, and instead sold ground graphite, plumbago, for electrotyping. When John Thoreau  died in 1859, Henry took over the business. See New England Historical Society, How the Thoreau Pencil Wrote, and Paid for, Walden; February 3, 1859 (Five minutes before 3 P. M., Father died")

Wednesday, September 5, 2018

Went down to the pond-hole behind where I used to live.

September 5 

P. M. — To Walden.

Prinos verticillatus berries reddening. 

I hear two or more wood pewees this afternoon, but had not before for a fortnight or more. The pewee days are over for some time. 

Went down to the pond-hole behind where I used to live. It is quite full of water. The middle or greater part is densely covered with target leaves, crowding one another and.curling up on their edges. Then there is a space or canal of clear water, five to twenty feet wide, quite around them, and the shore is thickly covered with rattlesnake grass, now ripe. 

I find many high blueberries, quite fresh, overhanging the south shore of Walden. 

I find, all about Walden, close to the edge on the steep bank, and at Brister’s Spring, a fine grass now generally past prime, Agrostis perennans, thin grass, or hair grass, on moist ground or near water. The branches of the panicle are but slightly purplish.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, September 5, 1858


To Walden. Prinos verticillatus berries reddening. See August 20, 1854 ("Prinos berries have begun to redden. ");   September 28, 1851 ("The swamp is bordered with the red-berried alder, or prinos,"); October 10, 1857 ("To Walden over Fair Haven Hill. Some Prinos verticillatus yellowing and browning at once, and in low ground just falling and leaving the bright berries bare") and note to October 2, 1856 (“The prinos berries are in their prime.”)

The pewee days are over for some time. See August 14. 1858 (" The wood pewee, with its young, peculiarly common and prominent. . . . These might be called the pewee-days.")

Many high blueberries, quite fresh, overhanging the south shore of Walden. See December 27, 1857 ("It appears, then, that some of those old gray blueberry bushes which overhang the pond-holes have attained half the age of man. ")

Tuesday, September 5, 2017

The narrow brown sheaths from the base of white pine leaves now strew the ground

September 5. 

Saturday.

I now see those brown shaving like stipules of the white pine leaves, which are falling, i.e. the stipules, and caught in cobwebs.

River falls suddenly, having been high all summer.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, September 5, 1857


I now see those brown shaving like stipules of the white pine leaves, which are falling. See September 1, 1860 ("Many pine stipules fallen yesterday. Also see them on Walden to-day. "); September 3, 1858 ("The narrow brown sheaths from the base of white pine leaves now strew the ground and are washed up on the edge of puddles after the rain.")

Monday, September 5, 2016

Women and children are already picking hops in the fields, in the shade of large white sheets, like sails.

September 5. 

Friday. 

September 5.

To Brattleboro, Vt. 

Will not the prime of goldenrods and asters be just before the first severe frosts ? 

As I ride along in the cars, I think that the ferns, etc., are browned and crisped more than usual at this season, on account of the very wet weather. 

Found on reaching Fitchburg that there was an interval of three and a half hours between this and the Brattleboro train, and so walked on, on the track, with shouldered valise. Had observed that the Nashua River in Shirley was about one mile west of Groton Junction, if I should ever want to walk there. 

Observed by railroad, in Fitchburg, low slippery elm shrubs with great, rough, one-sided leaves. 

Solidago lanceolata past prime, a good deal. Aster puniceus in prime. 

About one mile from West Fitchburg depot, westward, I saw the panicled elderberries on the railroad but just beginning to redden, though it is said to ripen long before this. 

As I was walking through Westminster, I remembered that G. B. Emerson says that he saw a handsome clump of the Salix lucida on an island in Meeting-House Pond in this town, and, looking round, I saw a shrub of it by the railroad, about one mile west of West Fitchburg depot, and several times afterward within a mile or two. Also in the brook behind Mr. Alcott's house in Walpole, N. H. 

Took the cars again in Westminster. The scenery began to be mountainous and interesting in Royalston and Athol, but was more so in Erving. 

In Northfield first observed fields of broom-corn very common, Sorghum saccharatum, taller than corn. Alcott says they bend down the heads before they gather them, to fit them for brooms. 

Hereabouts women and children are already picking hops in the fields, in the shade of large white sheets, like sails.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, September 5, 1856

Saturday, September 5, 2015

A Book of the Seasons: September 5 (I feel as if I were an ear of ripening corn myself)



I feel as if 
I were an ear of 
ripening corn myself.
September 5, 1851

Aster puniceus 
one rod in diameter – 
one mass of flowers.
September 5, 1853

Now at sundown
a blue heron flaps away
from his perch on an oak
over the river before me
just above the rock.

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

Women and children 
picking hops in the shade of 
large white sheets like sails. 

I see those stipules 
of the white pine leaves falling 
and caught in cobwebs. 

I hear two or more 
wood pewees this afternoon – 
pewee days over. 
September 5, 1858.

 Part of the forenoon 
in the woods searching for a 
suitable millstone.
 September 5, 1859

 Hibiscus in prime 
and the great bidens add their 
beauty to the bank. 

September 05, 2014

Spent a part of the forenoon in the woods in the northwest part of Acton, searching for a stone suitable for a millstone for my lead-mill. September 5, 1859

In Northfield first observed fields of broom-corn very common, Sorghum saccharatum, taller than corn. Alcott says they bend down the heads before they gather them, to fit them for brooms. September 5, 1856

Hereabouts women and children are already picking hops in the fields, in the shade of large white sheets, like sails. September 5, 1856

The brink of the river is still quite interesting in some respects, and to some eyes more interesting than ever. September 5, 1860

What further adds to the beauty of the bank is the hibiscus, in prime, and the great bidens. September 5, 1860

Though the willows and button-bushes have already assumed an autumnal hue, and the pontederia is extensively crisped and blackened, the dense masses of mikania. . .are perhaps more remarkable than ever. . . . as rich a sight as any flower we have, — little terraces of contiguous corymbs. September 5, 1860

Also the dodder is more revealed, also draping the brink over the water. September 5, 1860

See the little dippers back. September 5, 1860

The river rising probably. September 5, 1854

River falls suddenly, having been high all summer. September 5, 1857

The river weeds are now much decayed . . . This is a fall phenomenon. The river weeds, becoming rotten, though many are still green, fall or are loosened, the water rises, the winds come, and they are drifted to the shore, and the water is cleared. September 5, 1854

Having walked through a quantity of desmodium under Ball's Hill , by the shore there (Marilandicum or rigidum), we found our pants covered with its seeds to a remarkable and amusing degree. September 5, 1860

It was the event of our walk, and we were proud to wear this badge, as if he were the most distinguished who had the most on his clothes.
September 5, 1860

Went down to the pond-hole behind where I used to live. . . . the shore is thickly covered with rattlesnake grass, now ripe. September 5, 1858

I find many high blueberries, quite fresh, overhanging the south shore of Walden. September 5, 1858

I find, all about Walden, close to the edge on the steep bank, and at Brister’s Spring, a fine grass now generally past prime, Agrostis perennans, thin grass, or hair grass, on moist ground or near water. The branches of the panicle are but slightly purplish. September 5, 1858

I now see those brown shaving like stipules of the white pine leaves, which are falling, i.e. the stipules, and caught in cobwebs. September 5, 1857.                       

Aster puniceus in prime. September 5, 1856

An island of Aster puniceus, one rod in diameter, - one mass of flowers five feet high. September 5, 1853


Solidago lanceolata past prime, a good deal. September 5, 1856

Will not the prime of goldenrods and asters be just before the first severe frosts ? September 5, 1856

As I ride along in the cars, I think that the ferns, etc., are browned and crisped more than usual at this season, on account of the very wet weather. September 5, 1856

Observed by railroad, in Fitchburg, low slippery elm shrubs with great, rough, one-sided leaves. September 5, 1856

About one mile from West Fitchburg depot, westward, I saw the panicled elderberries on the railroad but just beginning to redden, though it is said to ripen long before this. September 5, 1856

As I was walking through Westminster, I remembered that G. B. Emerson says that he saw a handsome clump of the Salix lucida on an island in Meeting-House Pond in this town, and, looking round, I saw a shrub of it by the railroad, about one mile west of West Fitchburg depot, and several times afterward within a mile or two. Also in the brook behind Mr. Alcott's house in Walpole, N. H. September 5, 1856

Prinos verticillatus
 berries reddening. September 5, 1858

Barrett shows me some very handsome pear-shaped cranberries, not uncommon, which may be a permanent variety different from the common rounded ones. September 5, 1854

Bathe at the swamp white oak, the water again warmer than I expected. September 5, 1854

Just this side the rock, the water near the shore and pads is quite white for twenty rods, as with a white sawdust, with the exuviae of small insects about an eighth of an inch long, mixed with scum and weeds. September 5, 1854

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. 

I hear the tree-toad to-day. September 5, 1854

I hear two or more wood pewees this afternoon, but had not before for a fortnight or more. The pewee days are over for some time. September 5, 1858.

Did I not see a marsh hawk in imperfect plumage? Quite brown, with some white midway then wings, and tips of wings black? September 5, 1860  

Now at sundown, a blue heron flaps away from his perch on an oak over the river before me, just above the rock. 
September 5, 1854 

Hear locusts after sundown. September 5, 1854

Even at this hour in the evening the crickets chirp, the small birds peep, the wind roars in the wood, as if it were just before dawn. September 5, 1851

The landscape seen from the slightest elevation by moonlight is seen remotely, and flattened, as it were, into mere light and shade, open field and forest, like the surface of the earth seen from the top of a mountain. September 5, 1851

Fair Haven by moonlight lies there like a lake in the Maine wilderness in the midst of a primitive forest untrodden by man. This light and this hour take the civilization all out of the landscape. September 5, 1851

A field of ripening corn, now at night, that has been topped, with the stalks stacked up to dry, – an inexpressibly dry, rich, sweet ripening scent. I feel as if I were an ear of ripening corn myself. September 5, 1851

 The moonlight seems to linger as if it were giving way to the light of coming day.  September 5, 1851

September 5, 2014

*****
*****

September 5,  2016


April 10, 1853 ("Saw a pretty large narrow-winged hawk with a white rump and white spots or bars on under (?) side of wings. Probably the female or young of a marsh hawk.")
April 13, 1854 (" A small brown hawk with white on rump — I think too small for a marsh hawk — sailed low over the meadow. [May it have been a young male harrier?]");
April 23, 1855 ("I have seen also for some weeks occasionally a brown hawk with white rump, flying low, which I have thought the frog hawk in a different stage of plumage; but can it be at this season? and is it not the marsh hawk? Yet it is not so heavy nearly as the hen-hawk -- probably female hen-harrier [i. e. marsh hawk]")
May 14, 1857 ("See a pair of marsh hawks, the smaller and lighter-colored male, with black tips to wings, and the large brown female, sailing low")
July 12, 1851 ("The earliest corn is beginning to show its tassels now, and I scent it as I walk, — its peculiar dry scent.");
July 31, 1855 ("Tree-toads sing more than before.")
August 2, 1860 ("Mikania begun, and now, perhaps, the river's brink is at its height. ")
August 14. 1858 (" The wood pewee, with its young, peculiarly common and prominent. . . . These might be called the pewee-days.")
August 15, 1860 ("See a blue heron.")
August 18, 1860 ("The note of the wood pewee sounds prominent of late.")
August 20, 1854 ("Prinos berries have begun to redden. ")
August 21, 1853("the peawai still,")
August 22, 1858 ("Now that the mikania begins to prevail the button-bush has done . . . and the willows are already somewhat crisped and imbrowned")
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.”);
August 29, 1858 ("The mikania is apparently in prime or a little past.")
September 2, 1856 ("Frank Harding has caught a dog-day locust which lit on the bottom of my boat, in which he was sitting, and z-ed there")
September 2, 1852 ("The red prinos berries ripe in sunny places.")
September 3, 1858 ("The narrow brown sheaths from the base of white pine leaves now strew the ground and are washed up on the edge of puddles after the rain.")
September 4, 1854 ("To Fair Haven Pond by boat. Full moon; bats flying about; skaters and water bugs like sparks of fire on the surface between us and the moon.")



September 6, 1860 ("The willows and button-bushes have very rapidly yellowed since I noticed them August 22d.")
September 7, 1858 ("It is an early September afternoon, melting warm and sunny. . .and ever and anon the hot z-ing of the locust is heard.")
Sepember 11, 1859 ("The prinos berries are now seen, red (or scarlet), clustered along the stems, amid the as yet green leaves. A cool red.")
September 13, 1852 ("The great bidens in the sun in brooks affects me as the rose of the fall, the most flavid product of the water and the sun. They are low suns in the brook. The golden glow of autumn concentrated, more golden than the sun . . . If I come by at this season, a golden blaze will salute me here from a thousand suns.")
September 20, 1859 ("The button-bushes by the river are generally overrun with the mikania.")
September 28, 1851 ("The swamp is bordered with the red-berried alder, or prinos,") 
September 29, 1856 ("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!")
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 2, 1856 (“The prinos berries are in their prime.”)
 October 6, 1858 ("The corn stands bleached and faded — quite white in the twilight")
October 7, 1857 ("Crossing Depot Brook, I see many yellow butterflies fluttering about the Aster puniceus, still abundantly in bloom there.")
October 10, 1857 ("To Walden over Fair Haven Hill. Some Prinos verticillatus yellowing and browning at once, and in low ground just falling and leaving the bright berries bare")
October 18, 1855 ("A large brown marsh hawk comes beating the bush along the river, and ere long a slate-colored one (male), with black tips, is seen circling against a distant wood-side.")
December 27, 1857 ("It appears, then, that some of those
old gray blueberry bushes which overhang the pond-holes have attained half the age of man.")


September 5, 2016


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.

September 4  <<<<<<<<<    September 5  >>> >>>>>  September 6

A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau,  September 5
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 © 2009-20

 

tinyurl.com/HDT05SEPT 



Friday, September 5, 2014

Now at sundown


September 5.

P. M. — Up Assabet to Sam Barrett’s Pond. 

September 05, 2014


The river rising probably. The river weeds are now much decayed. Almost all pads but the white lily have disappeared, and they are thinned, and in midstream those dense beds of weeds are so much thinned 
(potamogeton, heart-leaf, sparganium, etc., etc.) as to give one the impression of the river having risen, though it is not more than six inches higher on account of the rain.

This is a fall phenomenon. The river weeds, becoming rotten, though many are still green, fall or are loosened, the water rises, the winds come, and they are drifted to the shore, and the water is cleared.


During the drought I used to see Sam Wheeler’s men carting hogsheads of water from the river to water his shrubbery. They drove into the river, and, naked all but a coat and hat, they dipped up the water with a pail. Though a shiftless, it looked like an agreeable, labor that hot weather. 

Barrett shows me some very handsome pear-shaped cranberries, not uncommon, which may be a permanent variety different from the common rounded ones.

Bathe at the swamp white oak, the water again warmer than I expected. I see much thistle-down without the seed floating on the river and a hummingbird about a cardinal-flower over the water’s edge.

Just this side the rock, the water near the shore and pads is quite white for twenty rods, as with a white sawdust, with the exuviae of small insects about an eighth of an inch long, mixed with scum and weeds.

I hear the tree-toad to-day. 

Now at sundown, a blue heron flaps away from his perch on an oak over the river before me, just above the rock. 

Hear locusts after sundown.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, September 5, 1854

Bathe at the swamp white oak, the water again warmer than I expected.
See September 2, 1854 ("The water is surprisingly cold on account of the cool weather and rain, but especially since the rain of yesterday morning. It is a very important and remarkable autumnal change. It will not be warm again probably."); September 6, 1854 ("The water is again warmer than I should have believed; "); September 12, 1854 ("Bathing I find it colder again than on the 2d, so that I stay in but a moment. I fear that it will not again be warm."); September 24, 1854 ("It is now too cold to bathe with comfort") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Luxury of Bathing

This is a fall phenomenon . . . the water is cleared.
See September 24, 1854 ("The water begins to be clear of weeds, and the fishes are exposed.")

I hear the tree-toad to-day. See June 14, 1853 ("Suddenly a tree-toad in the overhanging woods begins, and another answers, and another, with loud, ringing notes such as I never heard before, and in three minutes they are all silent again."); October 18, 1859 ("Saw a tree-toad on the ground . . .It is marked on the back with black, somewhat in the form of the hylodes.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, The Tree-toad

A blue heron flaps away from his perch on an oak over the river. .See August 22, 1858 ("See one or two blue herons every day now, driving them far up or down the river before me"); August 24, 1854 (" See a blue heron standing on the meadow at Fair Haven Pond. At a distance before you, only the two waving lines appear, and you would not suspect the long neck and legs. "); September 9, 1858 ("This hot September afternoon all may be quiet amid the weeds, but the dipper, and the bittern, and the yellow legs, and the blue heron, and the rail are silently feeding there.") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Blue Heron

Hear locusts after sundown. See September 2, 1856 ("Frank Harding has caught a dog-day locust which lit on the bottom of my boat, in which he was sitting, and z-ed there"); September 7, 1858 ("It is an early September afternoon, melting warm and sunny. . .and ever and anon the hot z-ing of the locust is heard.")

September 5. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, September 5

Now at sundown
a blue heron flaps away 
from his perch on an oak 
over the river before me
just above the rock.

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-540905


Walk to the view after sunset. we are treated to a light show of lightning. severe storms to northwest over Ottowa and Montreal, lighting the clouds, sometimes showing bolts, for perhaps an hour. A first quarter moon low in the south. we go down by the big house then bushwack to the fort. Windy. zphx September 5, 2014

Incessant flashes
lighting the edge of the cloud.
A rush of cool wind.

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