The dark shade of June.

June 26

P. M. — I am struck, as I look toward the Dennis shore from the bathing-place, with the peculiar agreeable dark shade of June, a clear air, and bluish light on the grass and bright silvery light reflected from fresh green leaves.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, June 26, 1854

The peculiar agreeable dark shade of June. . . .See note to June 6, 1855 ("You see the dark eye and shade of June on the river as well as on land"); and June 11, 1856 ("I think that this peculiar darkness of the shade, or of the foliage as seen between you and the sky, is not accounted for merely by saying that we have not yet got accustomed to clothed trees, but the leaves are rapidly acquiring a darker green, are more and more opaque, and, besides, the sky is lit with the intensest light.”)

June 26. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, June 26

A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau,  The dark shade of June

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

tinyurl.com/hdt-540626 

The distant river is like molten silver at this hour

June 16.

June 16, 2020

Before 4 A.M., or sunrise, the sound of chip-birds and robins and bluebirds, etc., fills the air and is incessant.  

At sunrise a slight mist curls along the surface of the water. When the sun falls on it, it looks like a red dust.  

From top of the hill, the sun, just above the horizon, red and shorn of beams, is somewhat pear-shaped; and then it becomes a broad ellipse, the lower half a dun red. It appears as if it rose in the northeast, - over Ball's Hill at any rate. 

The distant river is like molten silver at this hour; it merely reflects the light, not the blue.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, June 16, 1853

A fresh cool summer morning.

July 2.

It is a fresh, cool summer morning.

That principle which gives the air an azure color is more abundant.

From the road at N. Barrett's, on my way to P. Blood's at 8:30A.M., the Great Meadows have a slight bluish misty tinge; elsewhere a sort of hoary sheen. Miles of waving grass adorning the surface of the earth, inconceivably fine and silvery far away, - light reflects from the grass blades. 

July 2

It takes but little distance to make the hills and even the meadows look blue to-day. 

To-day the milkweed is blossoming.  Some of the raspberries are ripe, the most innocent and simple of fruits. Cherries are ripe. Strawberries in the gardens have passed their prime.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, July 2, 1851

Taking shelter from a shower on the river.

June 18.

P. M. — Sail up river.

Rain again, and we take shelter under a bridge, and again under our boat, and again under a pine tree.

It is worth the while to sit or lie through a shower thus under a bridge or under a boat on the bank, because the rain is a much more interesting and remarkable phenomenon under these circumstances.

The surface of the stream betrays every drop from the first to the last, and all the variations of the storm, so much more expressive is the water than the comparatively brutish face of earth. We no doubt often walk between drops of rain falling thinly, without knowing it, though if on the water we should have been advertised of it.

At last the whole surface is nicked with the rebounding drops as if the surface rose in little cones to accompany or meet the drops, till it looks like the back of some spiny fruit or animal, and yet the different-colored currents, light and dark, are seen through it all;

and then, when it clears up, how gradually the surface of the water becomes more placid and bright, the dimples growing fewer and finer till the prolonged reflections of trees are seen in it, and the water is lit up with a joy which is in sympathy with our own, while the earth is comparatively dead.

I saw swarms of little gnats, light-winged, dancing over the water in the midst of the rain, though you would say any drop would end one's days.

The swamp white oaks and red maples and willows, etc., now first begin to show a slight silveriness on the under edges of their flakes, where the under sides of the new leaves are shown.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, June 18, 1859

The different-colored currents, light and dark, are seen through it all. See July 31, 1860 ("The differently shaded or lit currents of the river through it all; but anon it begins to rain very hard, and a myriad white globules dance or rebound an inch or two from the surface, where the big drops fall, and I hear a sound as if it rains pebbles or shot.")

June18.  See A Book of the Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau, June 18

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