Botanizing Plymouth while there to lecture or preach --a true lichen day.

 

February 22.

February 22, 2022

Went to Plymouth to lecture or preach all day. 

Bæomyces roseus (Baiós, small, and múkys, a fungus ).

Saw in Plymouth, near Billington Sea, the Prinos glaber, or evergreen winterberry. It must be the same with the black-berried bush behind Provincetown.

A mild, misty day.

The red (?) oaks about Billington Sea fringed with usneas, which in this damp air appear in perfection. The trunks and main stems of the trees have, as it were, suddenly leaved out in the winter, — a very lively light green, — and these ringlets and ends of usnea are so expanded and puffed out with light and life, with their reddish or rosaceous fruit, it is a true lichen day.

They take the place of leaves in the winter. The clusters dripping with moisture, expanded as it were by electricity, sometimes completely investing the stem of the tree.

I understood that there were two only of the sixth generation from the Pilgrims still alive (in Plymouth?).

Every man will take such views as he can afford to take. Views one would think were the most expensive guests to entertain.

I perceive that the reason my neighbor cannot entertain certain views is the narrow limit within which he is obliged to live, on account of the smallness of his means. His instinct tells him that it will not do to relax his hold here and take hold where he cannot keep hold.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, February 22, 1852

Went to Plymouth to lecture or preach.  Benjamin Marston Watson established a series of Sunday lectures in Plymouth to provide an alternative venue for those who did not go to church. Thoreau read his "Life in the Woods" lecture twice on February 22; once at 10:00 am and again at 7:00 pm. Richard Smith February 22, 2021. See also October 7, 1854 ("Went to Plymouth to lecture and survey Watson's grounds.”);February 22, 1859 (“Go to Worcester to lecture in a parlor.”)  

Bæomyces roseus.  See April 3, 1859 ("We need a popular name for the baeomyces. C. suggests "pink mould" Perhaps "pink shot" or "eggs" would do.”)

The Prinos glaber, or evergreen winterberry [aka"Ilex glabra"]. See December 28, 1852 ("The berries that hold on into winter are to be remarked, — the winterberry, alder and birch fruit, smilax, pyrus, hips, etc") Compare September 5, 1858 ("Prinos verticillatus berries reddening."); October 2, 1856 (“The prinos berries are in their prime.. . . They are now very fresh and bright, and what adds to their effect is the perfect freshness and greenness of the leaves amid which they are seen.”)

The fresh bright scarlet

prinos berries seen in prime

amid fresh green leaves.

October 2, 1856

Red oaks fringed with usneas. See Walden (" All day the sun has shone on the surface of some savage swamp, where the single spruce stands hung with usnea lichens, and small hawks circulate above, and the chickadee lisps amid the evergreens, and the partridge and rabbit skulk beneath”)

Usnea are so expanded and puffed out with light and life, with their reddish or rosaceous fruit, it is a true lichen day. See December 31, 1851 ("Nature has a day for each of her creatures, her creations. To-day it is an exhibition of lichens at Forest Hall.”); January 26, 1852 ("The lichens look rather bright to-day, . . .The beauty of lichens, with their scalloped leaves, the small attractive fields, the crinkled edge! I could study a single piece of bark for hour.”); February 5, 1853 ("It is a lichen day. . . . All the world seems a great lichen and to grow like one to-day, - a sudden humid growth.”)

Deal with brute nature. Be cold and hungry and weary.

December 25. 

P. M. — To Lee's Cliff. 

A strong wind from the northwest is gathering the snow into picturesque drifts behind the walls. As usual they resemble shells more than anything, sometimes prows of vessels, also the folds of a white napkin or counterpane dropped over a bonneted head. There are no such picturesque snow-drifts as are formed behind loose and open stone walls. 

Already yesterday it had drifted so much, i.e. so much ground was bare, that there were as many carts as sleighs in the streets. 

Just beyond Hubbard's Bridge, on Conant's Brook Meadow, I am surprised to find a tract of ice, some thirty by seven or eight rods, blown quite bare. It shows how unstable the snow is. 

Sanborn got some white spruce and some usnea for Christmas in the swamp. I thought the last would be the most interesting and weird. 

On the north sides of the walls we go over boots and get them full, then let ourselves down into the shell- work on the south side; so beyond the brows of hills.

At Lee's Cliff I pushed aside the snow with my foot and got some fresh green catnip for Min. 

I see the numerous tracks there, too, of foxes, or else hares, that have been running about in the light snow. 

Called at the Conantum House. It grieves me to see these interesting relics, this and the house at the Baker Farm, going to complete ruin. 

Met William Wheeler's shaggy gray terrier, or Indian dog, going home. He got out of the road into the field and went round to avoid us. 

Take long walks in stormy weather or through deep snows in the fields and woods, if you would keep your spirits up. Deal with brute nature. Be cold and hungry and weary.

H. D. Thoreau, Journal, December 25, 1856

A strong wind from the northwest is gathering the snow into picturesque drifts behind the walls. See December 25, 1855 ("Snow driving almost horizontally from the northeast and fast whitening the ground.”)

Take long walks in stormy weather or through deep snows.  Deal with brute nature. Be cold and hungry and weary. See January 12, 1852 ("I sometimes think that I may go forth and walk hard . . . be much abroad in heat and cold, day and night; live more, expend more atmospheres, be weary often, etc., etc.” ); February 28, 1852 (“To get the value of the storm we must be out a long time and travel far in it, so that it may fairly penetrate our skin . . . and there be no part in us but is wet or weather beaten, - so that we become storm men instead of fair weather men.”); April 19 1852 ("To see wild life you must go forth at a wild season. When it rains and blows, keeping men indoors, then the lover of Nature must forth. Then returns Nature to her wild estate.’)