Summer grasses.

June 21. 

June 21, 2019

Tuesday. P. M. — To Derby's pasture behind and beyond schoolhouse. 

Meadow-sweet. 

Hedge-hyssop out. 

In that little pool near the Assabet, above our bath-place there, Glyceria pallida well out in water and Carex lagopodurides just beginning. 

That grass covering dry and dryish fields and hills, with curled or convolute radical leaves, is apparently Festuca ovina, and not Danthonia as I thought it. It is now generally conspicuous. Are any of our simpler forms the F. tenella? [Vide July 2d, 1860.]

You see now the Eupatoreum purpureum pushing up in rank masses in the low grounds, and the lower part of the uppermost leaves, forming a sort of cup, is conspicuously purplish.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, June 21, 1859

Hedge-hyssop out. See August 6, 1855 ("These great meadows through which I wade have a great abundance of hedge-hyssop now in bloom in the water. ")

That grass covering dry and dryish fields and hills, with curled or convolute radical leaves. See July 10, 1860 ("The Festuca ovina is a peculiar light-colored, whitish grass.");

Are any of our simpler forms the F. tenella? July 2, 1860 ("Yesterday I detected the smallest grass that I know, apparently Festuca tenella (?), apparently out of bloom, in the dry path southwest of the yew, — only two to four inches high, like a moss.")

The Eupatoreum purpureum pushing up in rank masses. See August 6, 1856 ("Eupatorium purpureum at Stow's Pool, apparently several days")

Goldenrod and asters have fairly begun.

July 28.


P. M. —To Yellow Pine Lake. 

Epilobium coloratum, roadside just this side of Dennis's. 

Water lobelia, is it, that C. shows me? 

There is a yellowish light now from a low, tufted, yellowish, broad-leaved grass, in fields that have been mown. A June-like, breezy air. 

The large shaped sagittaria out, a large crystalline- white  three-petalled flower. 

Enough has not been said of the beauty of the shrub oak leaf (Quercus ilicifolia), of a thick, firm texture, for the most part uninjured by insects, intended to last all winter; of a glossy green above and now silky downy beneath, fit for a wreath or crown. The leaves of the chinquapin oak might be intermixed. 

Grasshoppers are very abundant, several to every square foot in some fields. 

I observed some leaves of woodbine which had not risen from the ground, turned a beautiful bright red, perhaps from heat and drought, though it was in a low wood. 

This Ampelopsis quinquefolia is in blossom. Is it identical with that about R. W. E.'s posts, which was in blossom July 13th? 

Aster Radula (?) in J. P. Brown's meadow. Solidago altissima (?) beyond the Corner Bridge, out some days at least, but not rough-hairy. Goldenrod and asters have fairly begun; i. e. there are several kinds of each out. 

What is that slender hieracium or aster-like plant in woods on Corner road with lanceolate, coarsely feather-veined leaves, sessile and remotely toothed; minute, clustered, imbricate buds (?) or flowers and buds ? Panicled hieracium?  

The evenings are now sensibly longer, and the cooler weather makes them improvable.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, July 28, 1852

Epilobium coloratum, roadside just this side of Dennis's. See July 28, 1858 ("From wall corner saw a pinkish patch on side-hill west of Baker Farm, which turned out to be epilobium . . .This pink flower was distinguished perhaps three quarters of a mile.")

There is a yellowish light now from a low, tufted, yellowish, broad-leaved grass, in fields that have been mown. See July 26, 1854 ("One reason why the lately shorn fields shine so and reflect so much light is that a lighter-colored and tender grass, which has been shaded by the crop taken off, is now exposed, and also a light and fresh grass is springing up there."). See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Haymaking

A June-like, breezy air. See June 30, 1860 ("Seen through this clear, sparkling, breezy air, the fields, woods, and meadows are very brilliant and fair.")

The beauty of the shrub oak leaf (Quercus ilicifolia) . . . intended to last all winter; of a glossy green above and now silky downy beneath, fit for a wreath or crown. See November 20, 1858 ("The rare wholesome and permanent beauty of withered oak leaves of various hues of brown mottling a hillside, especially seen when the sun is low, — Quaker colors, sober ornaments, beauty that quite satisfies the eye. ") See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, the Shrub Oak

Goldenrod and asters have fairly begun. See July 18, 1854 ("Methinks the asters and goldenrods begin, like the early ripening leaves, with midsummer heats.");  July 26, 1853 ("I mark again, about this time when the first asters open . . . This the afternoon of the year.")

What is that slender hieracium or aster-like plant in woods on Corner road? See July 31, 1856 ("Hieracium paniculatum by Gerardia quercifolia path in woods under Cliffs, two or three days."); August21, 1851 ("Hieracium paniculatum, a very delicate and slender hawkweed. I have now found all the hawkweeds. Singular these genera of plants, plants manifestly related yet distinct. They suggest a history to nature, a natural history in a new sense.”)

The evenings are now sensibly longer. See July 24, 1853 ("For a week or more I have perceived that the evenings were considerably longer and of some account to sit down and write in"); September 11, 1854 ("For a week or so the evenings have been sensibly longer, and I am beginning to throw off my summer idleness")

July 28. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, July 28

Yellowish light now.

Tufted yellowish broad-leaved

grass in new mown fields.

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

Red-top

June 26. 

The slight reddish-topped grass now gives a reddish tinge to some fields.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, June 26, 1851

See June 19, 1859 ("Is that red-top, nearly out on railroad bank?");  July 6, 1851 ("The red-topped grass is in its prime, tingeing the fields with red."); July 13, 1860 ("I especially notice some very red fields where the red-top grass grows luxuriantly and is now in full bloom, - a red purple, passing into brown. First we had the June grass reddish-brown, and the sorrel red, of June; now the red-top red of July."); July 15, 1860 ("Looking down on a field of red-top now in full bloom, at 2.30 P.M. in a blazing sun I am surprised to see a very distinct white vapor like a low cloud drifting along close over the moist coolness of that dense grass-field. Field after field, densely packed like the squares of a checker-board, all through and about the villages, paint the earth")

A remarkably cool day.

July 24.

July 24.

Many a field where the grass has been cut shows now a fresh and very lit-up light green as you look toward the sun. 

This is a remarkably cool day. Thermometer 72° at 2 p. m.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, July 24, 1860

See July 24, 1852 (“. . .there is a short, fresh green on the shorn fields . . . the year has passed its culmination.”)

To Annursnack

July 22.

Yesterday having been a rainy day, the air is now clear and cool. Rarely is the horizon so distinct. 

I stand in Heywood's pasture and, leaning over the wall, look westward. The surface of the earth, - grass grounds, pastures, and meadows, - is remarkably beautiful. All things are peculiarly fresh on account of the copious rains.

The next field, as I look over the wall, is a sort of terrestrial rainbow. First dark-green, where white clover has been cut; next along the edge of the meadow is a strip of red-top, uncut, perfectly distinct; then the cheerful bright-yellow sedge of the meadow; then a corresponding belt of red-top on its upper edge, quite straight and rectilinear like the first; then a glaucous-green field of grain still quite low; and, in the further corner of the field, a much darker square of green than any yet -- all brilliant in this wonderful light.

First locust heard.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, July 22, 1860

A sort of terrestrial rainbow all brilliant in this wonderful light. See July 15, 1860 (“The rich green of young grain now, of various shades; the flashing blades of corn; the yellowing tops of ripening grain; the dense uniform red of red-top; the purple of the fowl-meadow along the low river-banks; the very dark and shadowy green of herd's-grass as if clouds were always passing over it; the fresh light green where June-grass has been cut; the fresh dark green where clover has been cut; the hard, dark green of pastures; the cheerful yellowish green of the meadows where the sedges prevail, with darker patches and veins of grass in the higher and drier parts.”)

First locust heard. See June 14, 1854 ("Harris's other kind, the dog-day cicada (canicularis), or harvest-fly. He says it begins to be heard invariably at the beginning of dog-days; he (Harris) heard it for many years in succession with few exceptions on the 25th of July."); July 17, 1856 (“A very warm afternoon. Thermometer at 97° at the Hosmer Desert. I hear the early locust.”); July 18, 1851 ("I first heard the locust sing, so dry and piercing, by the side of the pine woods in the heat of the day.”); July 19, 1854 ("The more smothering, furnace-like heats are beginning, and the locust days."); July 26, 1854 ("It is a windy day like yesterday, yet almost constantly I hear borne on the wind from far, mingling with the sound of the wind, the z-ing locust, scarcely like a distinct sound.”); July 26, 1853 (“I mark again, about this time when the first asters open, the sound of crickets or locusts that makes you fruitfully meditative, helps condense your thoughts, like the mel dews in the afternoon. This the afternoon of the year.”); July 31, 1856 (“This dog-day afternoon [a]s I make my way amid rank weeds still wet with the dew, the air filled with a decaying musty scent and the z-ing of small locusts, I hear the distant sound of a flail, and thoughts of autumn occupy my mind, and the memory of past years.”); August 14, 1853 ("Locust days, — sultry and sweltering. I hear them even till sunset. The usually invisible but far-heard locust."); August 16, 1852 ("These are locust days. I hear them on the elms in the street, but cannot tell where they are."). See also A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Locust, Dogdayish Days

On Fair Haven Hill

July 15.

July 15

Looking down on a field of red-top now in full bloom, a quarter of a mile west of this hill, at 2.30 P.M. of this very warm and slightly hazy but not dog-dayish day in a blazing sun I am surprised to see a very distinct white vapor like a low cloud drifting along close over the moist coolness of that dense grass-field.

These cultivated grasses now clothe the earth with rich hues. Field after field, densely packed like the squares of a checker-board, all through and about the villages, paint the earth. 

The rich green of young grain now, of various shades; the flashing blades of corn; the yellowing tops of ripening grain; the dense uniform red of red-top; the purple of the fowl-meadow along the low river-banks; the very dark and shadowy green of herd's-grass as if clouds were always passing over it; the fresh light green where June-grass has been cut; the fresh dark green where clover has been cut; the hard, dark green of pastures; the cheerful yellowish green of the meadows where the sedges prevail, with darker patches and veins of grass in the higher and drier parts. 

Knowing where to look, I can just distinguish with my naked eye the darker green of pipes on the peat meadows two miles from the Hill.

The potato-fields are a very dark green.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, July 15, 1860

The fresh light green where June-grass has been cut. See July 24, 1852 (“There is a short, fresh green on the shorn fields . . . the year has passed its culmination.”); July 24, 1860 ("Many a field where the grass has been cut shows now a fresh and very lit-up light green as you look toward the sun.”) 

July 15. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau July 15

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 © 2009-2021

Early purple grass

Agrostis scabra
(rough bentgrass)

July 11.

As I go along the railroad causeways I am interested now by patches of Agrostis scabra. Drooping and waving in the wind a rod or two over amid the red-top and herd's-grass of A.Wheeler's meadow,  this grass gives a pale purple sheen to those parts, the most purple impression of any grass.

It is an exceedingly fine slender-branched grass, less noticeable close at hand than in a favorable light at a distance. You will see, thus, scattered over a meadow, little flecks and patches of it, almost like a flat purplish cobweb of the morning.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal,  July 11, 1860

Agrostis scabra. Drooping and waving in the wind gives a pale purple sheen to those parts, the most purple impression of any grass. See July 3, 1859 ("A large patch of Agrostis scabra a very interesting purple with its fine waving top, mixed with blue-eyed grass.”).

July 11. See A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, July 11

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 © 2009-2021

To Pleasant Meadow

July 10.

Jully 10, 2014

2 p. m. — To Pleasant Meadow via Lincoln Bridge. 

The Festuca ovina is a peculiar light-colored, whitish grass, as contrasted with the denser dark-green sod of pastures; as on the swells by the tin-hole near Brister's. 

Entering J. Baker's great mud-hole, this cloudy, cool afternoon, I was exhilarated by the mass of cheerful bright-yellowish light reflected from the sedge (Carex Pennsylvanica) growing densely on the hillsides laid bare within a year or two there. 

It is of a distinct cheerful yellow color even this overcast day, even as if they were reflecting a bright sunlight, though no sun is visible. It is surprising how much this will light up a hillside or upland hollow or plateau, and when, in a clear day, you look toward the sun over it late in the afternoon, the scene is incredibly bright and elysian. 

These various lights and shadows of the grass make the charm of a walk at present. 

I find in this mud-hole a new grass, Eatonia Pennsylvanica, two and a half feet high. 

Juncus, apparently marginatus, say ten days.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, July 10, 1860

To Well Meadow

July 1.

While reclining on the sedge at end of town-bound path, I see a warbler deliberately investigating the smooth sumachs and their old berrybunches, in various positions. It is a slaty blue above, with a bright-yellow front-head and much yellow on the wings, a very distinct black throat, triangularwise, with a broad black line through the eyes, a forked tail dark beneath; belly white or whitish.

It is undoubtedly the golden-winged warbler, which I think must be breeding here.


I see young partridges not bigger than robins fly three or four rods, not squatting fast, now.

Returning over the causeway, the light of the sun was reflected from the awns of a grain-field by Abiel Wheeler's house so brightly and in such a solid mass as to at first impress you as if it were whiter than the densest whiteweed thereabouts, but in fact it was not white, but a very bright sunny gleam from the waving phalanx of awns, more calculated to reflect the light than any object in the landscape.

H. D. Thoreau , Journal, July 1, 1860

Golden-winged warbler. See July 24, 1860 ("The carpenter working for Edward Hoar in Lincoln caught, two or three clays ago, an exhausted or half-furnished golden-winged warbler alive in their yard. It was within half a mile that I saw one a few weeks ago. It is a sufficiently well-marked bird, by the large yellow spot on the wing (the greater coverts), yellow front and crown, and the very distinct black throat and, I should say, upper breast, above which white divided by a broad black line through the eye. Above blue-gray, with much yellowish-green dusting or reflection, i.e. edging, to the feathers.”); May 6, 1855 (“ Bright-yellow head and shoulders and beneath, and dark legs and bill catching insects along base of pitch pine plumes, some, what creeper-like; very active and restless, darting from tree to tree; darts at and drives off a chickadee. I find I have thus described its colors last year at various times, viz.: black throat, this often with dark and light beneath; again, black streak from eyes, slate-colored back (?), forked tail, white beneath (?)”)

I see young partridges not bigger than robins .See June 26, 1857 ("See a pack of partridges as big as robins at least.”);July 5, 1856 ("Young partridges (with the old bird), as big as robins, make haste into the woods from off the railroad.") See also A Book of Seasons,  by Henry Thoreau,the Partridge

Sea of Green

June 16. 

P. M. — Paddle to Great Meadows. 

Small snapdragon, how long? 

Examined a kingfisher's nest, — though there is a slight doubt if I found the spot. It was formed singularly like that of the bank swallow, i. e. flat-elliptical, some eight inches, as I remember, in the - largest diameter, and located just like a swallow's, in a sand-bank, some twenty inches below the surface. Could feel nothing in it, but it may have been removed. Have an egg from this. 

Walked into the Great Meadows from the angle on the west side of the Holt, in order to see what were the prevailing sedges, etc. 

On the dry and hard bank by the river, grows June-grass, etc., Carex scoparia, stellulata, stricta, and Buxbaumii; in the wet parts, pipes two and a half feet high, C. lanuginosa, C. bullata(?), [C] monile, Eleocharis palustris, Panicum virgatum (a little just begins to show itself), and Glyceria fluitans here and there and out. 

There was a noble sea of pipes, — you may say pipes exclusively, — a rich dark green, quite distinct from the rest of the meadow and visible afar, a broad stream of this valuable grass growing densely, two and a half feet high in water. 

Next to this, south, where it was quite as wet, or wetter, grew the tall and slender C. lanuginosa, the prevailing sedge in the wetter parts where I walked. This was a sheeny glaucous green, bounding the pipes on each side, of a dry look. Next in abundance in the wet parts were the inflated sedges above named.

Those pipes, in such a mass, are, me-thinks, the richest mass of uniform dark liquid green now to be seen on the surface of the town [?]. You might call this meadow the "Green Sea.” 

Phalaris Americana, Canary grass, just out. The island by Hunt's Bridge is densely covered with it. 

Saw, in the midst of the Great Meadows, the trails or canals of the musquash running an indefinite distance, now open canals full of water, in which ever minnows dart constantly, deep under the grass; and here and there you come to the stool of a musquash, where it has flatted down the tufts of sedge and perhaps gnawed them off.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, June 16, 1859

Examined a kingfisher's nest, — though there is a slight doubt if I found the spot. See June 6, 1859 ("Hear of a kingfisher's nest, just found in a sand bank behind Abner Buttrick's, with six fresh eggs, of which I have one.”)

On the dry and hard bank by the river, grows June-grass, etc., Carex scoparia, stellulata, stricta, and Buxbaumii; in the wet parts, pipes two and a half feet high, C. lanuginosa, C. bullata(?), [C] monile, Eleocharis palustris, Panicum virgatum (a little just begins to show itself), and Glyceria fluitans here and there and out. SeeJune 16, 1858 (“A few sedges are very common and prominent, one, the tallest and earliest, now gone and going to seed, which I do not make out, also the Carex scoparia and the C. stellulata.”). Compare June 13, 1858 ("See now in meadows, for the most part going to seed, Carex scoparia, with its string of oval beads; and C. lupulina, with its inflated perigynia; also what I take to be C. stipata, with a dense, coarse, somewhat sharp triangular mass of spikelets; also C. stellulata, with a string of little star-like burs. ”)

Trails or canals of the musquash running an indefinite distance, now open canals full of water. See August 23, 1854 ("I improve the dry weather to examine the middle of Gowing's Swamp. . . . This is marked by the paths of muskrats, which also extend through the green froth of the pool. “); August 2, 1858 (“I noticed meandering down that meadow, which is now quite dry, a very broad and distinct musquash-trail, where they went and came continually when it was wet or under water in the winter or spring.”)