18 September 1854 – 24 September 1854

Monday. Viburnum nudum in flower again. Fringed gentian near Peter’s out a short time, but as there is so little, and that has been cut off by the mowers, and this is not the leading stem that blooms, it may after all be earlier than the hazel.” I see the potatoes all black with frosts that have occurred within a night or two in Moore’s Swamp.

Tuesday. P. M. — To Conantum. Viburnum Lentago berries now perhaps in prime, though there are but few blue ones. A snapping turtle had come out on the morning of the 20th, one at least. Another on the morning of the 23d Sept. Another on the morning of the 26th. ? Frost-bitten in Hubbard’s Close the 21st (or before).

Windy rain-storm last night. See to-day quite a flock of what I think must be rusty grackles about the willows and button-bushes.

Thursday. P. M. — To Flint’s Pond. The first frost in our yard last night, the grass white and stiff in the morning. The muskmelon vines are now blackened in the sun. There have been some frosts in low grounds about a week. The forenoon is cold, and I have a fire, but it is a fine clear day, as I find when I come forth to walk in the afternoon, a fine- grained air with a seething or shimmering in it, as I look over the fields, — days which remind me of the Indian summer that is to come. Do not these days always succeed the first frosty mornings ? The woods generally may now be said to be fairly beginning to turn (this with the first noticeable frost). The red maples, especially at a distance, begin to light their fires, some turning yellow, and within the woods many oak, e. g. scarlet and black and chestnut, and other leaves begin to show their colors. Those leaves of the young white oaks which have changed dull- salmon, crimson, scarlet (many incline to crimson) are mostly within the tree and partially concealed by the green leaves. They are handsomest looking up from below, the light through them. With this bright, clear, but rather cool air the bright yellow of the autumnal dandelion is in harmony and the heads of the dilapidated goldenrods. The gentian is already frost-bitten ' almost as soon as it is open. Those pretty little white oak acorn stars of three rays are now quite common on the ground. Utricularia (the leafless) abundant, and Lobelia Dortmanna still out at Flint’s Pond. That small erect milfoil is very abundant now. The pond is low near the bathing-rock. I hear many jays since the frosts began. The nut- hatch is common in woods and on street. Hear the chewink and the cluck of the thrasher. I sometimes seem to myself to owe all my little success, all for which men commend me, to my vices. I am perhaps more willful than others and make enor- mous sacrifices, even of others’ happiness, it may be, to gain myends. It would seem even as if nothing good could be accomplished without some vice to aid in it. The leaves of the wild cherry, being sound and entire, are in some places a particularly handsome clear, uni- form what you may call cherry red, perhaps inclining to crimson, — perhaps like the stain of cherry juice.* TI am surprised to see how many leaves in the woods have been apparently eaten through on the edges by some insect, leaving only a faded network of veins there, contrasting with the green centres. In some places almost every leaf of the young white oaks (and black or shrub oak) and chestnuts has this very hand- some and regular pale edging as of lace-work. It is about one twelfth of an inch in diameter, and is exceedingly regular, following strictly the outline of the leaf, however cut or lobed, by nature or accident, and preserving the same width. As these leaves (of young oaks, etc.) are commonly several together in one plane disposed ray-wise, — rosettes, — the effect of this edging is enhanced. These young leaves are still of a clear and delicate and now somewhat precious green. The extreme edge is left firm and entire, and the pulp of the leaf is eaten through only just within it.

Friday. Another hard frost this morning, notwithstanding some fog at same time, and another fine day after it. P. M. — Over Nawshawtuct. The river is peculiarly smooth and the water clear and sunny as I look from the stone bridge. A painted tortoise with his head out, outside of the weeds, looks as if resting in the air in that attitude, or suggests it, —an angle of forty-five degrees, with head and flippers outstretched. I see no particular effects of frost on the pontederias; they have been falling stead- ily without regard to it. It would be worth the while to observe all the effects of the first frosts on vegeta- tion, etc., etc. Celtis berries begin to yellow. As I look off from the hilltop, I wonder if there are any finer days in the year than these. The air is so fine and more bracing, and the landscape has acquired some fresh verdure withal. ‘The frosts come to ripen the year, the days, like fruits, — persimmons. What if we were to walk by sunlight with equal abstraction and aloofness, yet with equally impartial observation and criticism. As if it shone not for you, nor you for it, but you had come forth into it for the nonce to admire it. By moonlight we are not of the earth earthy, but we are of the earth spiritual. So might we walk by sunlight, seeing the sun but as a moon, a comparatively faint and reflected light, and the day as a brooding night, in which we glimpse some stars still. Some shrub oak acorns are prettily rayed, green and yellowish. Some white oak ones are turned salmon- color, or blushing like the leaves. Grape leaves in low grounds are frost-bitten and crisped before they have yellowed.’ - Crossing the hill behind Minott’s just as the sun is preparing to dip below the horizon, the thin haze in the atmosphere north and south along the west horizon reflects a purple tinge and bathes the moun- tains with the same, like a bloom on fruits. I wonder if this phenomenon is observed in warm weather, or before the frosts have come. Is it not another evidence of the ripe days? I saw it yesterday. I am surprised to see balls on the scarlet oak. Its acorn and cup are peculiarly top-shaped, the point of the acorn being the bottom. ‘The cup is broader than in the black oak, making a broader shelf about the acorn, and is more pear-shaped or prolonged at top. The acorn is not so rounded, but more tapering at point. And some scarlet oak leaves which I [see] have their two main veins and diverging ribs nearly opposite, while in a black oak leaf these veins, and hence lobes, are not nearly opposite.’ By moonlight all is simple. We are enabled to erect ourselves, our minds, on account of the fewness of objects. We are no longer distracted. It is simple as bread and water. It is simple as the rudiments of an art, — a lesson to be taken before sunlight, perchance, to prepare us for that.

P. M. — To Great Meadows via Gowing’s Swamp. I was struck with the peculiar and interesting colors of the naked arms of the buttonwood at the brick house, delicate tints seen from the ground, — whitish, greenish, and fawn-colored (?). They look as if recently bared by the scaling off of the old bark. The buttonwoods are in a flourishing condition this year. The first time. My pink azaleas which had lost their leaves in the drought are beginning to leave out again. The Helianthus tuberosus (Jerusalem artichoke) beyond Moore’s shows a little yellow, but will not open there for some days yet. Low blackberry vines generally red. ‘There are many lice on birches still, notwithstanding the frosts. The high blueberry bushes scattered here and there, the higher islands in Beck Stow’s Swamp, begin to paint it bright-red. Now look out for redness on the face of the earth, such as is seen on the cheek of the sweet viburnum, or as [a] frosty morning walk imparts to a man’s face. Very brilliant and remarkable now are the prinos berries, so brilliant and fresh when most things — flowers and berries — have withered. I gather pretty good wild pears near the new road, — now in prime. The Cornus sericea bushes along the edge of the Great Meadows are now turned mulberry, and here is an end of its berries then. The hard frosts of the 21st and 22d have put an end to several kinds of plants, and probably berries, for this year. This is the crisis when many kinds con- clude their summer. Bull says it is only the immature leaves of his new grape which are crisped by the frost as yet. Here, on the east edge of the Great Meadows, all the flowering fern is turned brown and withered (I am not sure but it began before the frost), and the common eupatoriums are a very dark brown or black for the same reason. All along the river the upper half of the button-bushes is turned brown and withered in consequence of the frost, while many other plants in their midst are un- touched. As it began late, it falls early. Its balls are equally browned, and may now be said to be ripened by frost. After those frosts a day’s sun revealed what mischief the frost had done by the withering and black- ened leaves. Many plants fall with the first frosts, — grapes, button-bushes; what else? Probably some asters and goldenrods. Monroe has shot a loon to-day.

Sunday. 6 a. m.— To Hill. Low fog-like veil on meadows. On the large sassafras trees on the hill I see many of the handsome red club-shaped pedicels left, with their empty cups which have held fruit; and I see one or two elliptical but still green berries. Apparently the rest have ripened and fallen or been gathered by birds already, unless they fell prematurely. Gray says that the berries are dark-blue and ripen in Sep- tember. Catnep still in bloom. Hear the flicker note. See a song-sparrow-like bird singing a confused low jingle. Afterward hear from a willow by river a clear strain from a song sparrow! Man identifies himself with earth or the material, just as he who has the least tinge of African blood in his veins regards himself as a negro and is identified with that race. Spirit is strange to him; he is afraid of ghosts. The Viburnum Lentago berries now turn blue-black in pocket, as the nudum did, which last are now all gone, while the Lentago is now just in season. P. M. — By boat to Grape Cliff. These are the stages in the river fall: first, the two varieties of yellow lily pads begin to decay and blacken (long ago); second, the first fall rains come after dog- days and raise and cool the river, and winds wash the decaying sparganium, etc., etc., to the shores and clear the channel more or less; third, when the first harder frosts come (as this year the 2lst and 22d znst.), the button-bushes, which before had attained only a dull mixed yellow, are suddenly bitten, wither, and turn brown, all but the protected parts. The first fall is so gradual as not to make much impression, but the last suddenly and conspicuously gives a fall aspect to the scenery of the river. The button-bushes thus withered, covered still with the gray, already withered mikania, suddenly paint with a rich brown the river’s brim. It is like the crust, the edging, of a boy’s turnover done brown. And the black wil- lows, slightly faded and crisped with age or heat, en- hance my sense of the year’s maturity. There, where the land appears to lap over the water by a mere edging, these thinner portions are first done brown. I float over the still liquid middle. I have not seen any such conspicuous effect of frost as this sudden withering of the button-bushes. The muskrats make haste now to rear their cabins and conceal themselves. I see still what I take to be small flocks of grackles feeding beneath the covert of the button-bushes and flitting from bush to bush. They seldom expose them- selves long. The water begins to be clear of weeds, and the fishes are exposed. It is now too cold to bathe with comfort, yet the clams have not gone down. The river is still low. I scared up a duck (wood?) (white under side wings), which circled round four times, twice (middle times) high in the air a diameter of a hundred rods, and finally alighted with a long, slant- ing flight near where it rose. The sumachs (though I have not observed the poison (venenata)) are now turned before trees. Green-briar berries ripe, blue- black, or purplish, apparently with the frosts of 21st and 22d. The red maple leaves along the river are much curled and show their whitish under sides even more than a month ago, owing probably to their age as well as the summer’s drought (from which last they had partly recovered a fortnight (?) ago). Saw a warbler which inquisitively approached me creeper-wise along some dead brush twigs. It may have been the pine-creeping warbler, though I could see no white bars on wings. I should say all yellow- olivaceous above; clear lemon-yellow throat and breast ——and vent (?); narrow white ring around eye; black bill, straight; clay-colored (?) legs; edge of wings white. Young hickories, pretty generally, and some black oaks are frost-bitten, but no young white oaks. On the shrub oak plain under Cliffs, the young white oaks are, generally now tending to a dull inward red. ‘The urcifolia generally green still, with a few yellowish or else scarlet leaves. The young black oaks with many red, scarlet, or yellowish leaves. The chinquapin pretty generally a clear brilliant dark red. The same with a few twigs of the scarlet oak, but not brilliant, 2. e. glossy. The tupelo green, reddish, and brilliant scarlet, all together. The brightest hazel dim vermilion. Some red maple sprouts clear scarlet deepening to purplish. The panicled cornel green with a tinge of reddish purple. Only these young trees and bushes are yet conspicuously changed. The tupelo and the chinqua- pin the most brilliant of the above. ‘The scarlet oak the clearest red. But little bright Solidago nemorosa is left. It is generally withered or dim. What name of a natural object is most poetic? That which he has given for convenience whose life is most nearly related to it, who has known it longest and best. The perception of truth, as of the duration of time, etc., produces a pleasurable sensation.