25 September 1854 – 1 October 1854

P. M. — To boat opposite Bittern Cliff via Cliffs. I suspect that I know on what the brilliancy of the autumnal tints will depend. On the greater or less drought of the summer. If the drought has been un- commonly severe, as this year, I should think it would so far destroy the vitality of the leaf that it would attain only to a dull, dead color in autumn, that to produce a brilliant autumn the plant should be full of sap and vigor to the last. Do I see an F. hyemalis in the Deep Cut? It is a month earlier than last year. I am detained by the very bright red blackberry leaves strewn along the sod, the vine being inconspicu- ous. How they spot it! On the shrub oak plain, as seen from Cliffs, the red at least balances the green. It looks like a rich, shaggy rug now, before the woods are changed. I see several smokes in the distance, of burning brush (?). The button-bush leaves are rapidly falling and cover- ing the ground with a rich brown carpet. The ponte- derias, too, show decidedly the effect of the frost. The river is as low [as] ordinarily in summer, eight or nine inches below the long stone, and the stripe of the bayo- net rush, now clear dark pink, eight or nine inches wide, is again exposed. Saw at a distance a fox or an otter withdrawing from the riverside. I think that if that August haze had been much of it smoke, I should have smelt it much more strongly, for I now smell strongly the smoke of this burning half a mile off, though it is scarcely perceptible in the air. There was a splendid sunset while I was on the water, beginning at the Clamshell reach. All the lower edge of a very broad dark-slate cloud which reached up backward almost to the zenith was lit up through and through with a dun golden fire, the sun being be- low the horizon, like a furze plain densely on fire, a short distance above the horizon, for there was a clear, pale robin’s-egg sky beneath, and some little clouds on which the light fell high in the sky but nearer, seen against the upper part of the distant uniform dark-slate one, were of a fine grayish silver color, with fine mother- o’-pearl tints unusual at sunset (?). The furze gradu- ally burnt out on the lower edge of the cloud, changed into a smooth, hard pale pink vermilion, which gradu- ally faded into a gray satiny pearl, a fine Quaker-color. All these colors were prolonged in the rippled reflection to five or six times their proper length. The effect was particularly remarkable in the case of the reds, which were long bands of red perpendicular in the water. Bats come out fifteen minutes after sunset, and then I hear some clear song sparrow strains, as from a fence-post amid snows in early spring.

‘Took my last bath the 24th. Probably shall not bathe again this year. It was chilling cold. It is a warm and very pleasant afternoon, and I walk along the riverside in Merrick’s pasture. I hear a faint jingle from some sparrows on the willows, etc., — tree or else song sparrows. Many swamp white oak acorns have turned brown on the trees. Some single red maples are very splendid now, the whole tree bright-scarlet against the cold green pines; now, when very few trees are changed, a most remarkable object in the lJand- scape; seen a mile off. It is too fair to be believed, especially seen against the light. Some are a reddish or else greenish yellow, others with red or yellow cheeks. I suspect that the yellow maples had not scarlet blos- soms. The bunches of panicled corne] are purple, though you see much of the gray under sides of the leaves. Viburnum dentatum berries still hold on.

R. W. E.’s pines are parti-colored, pre- paring to fall, some of them. The sassafras trees on the hill are now wholly a bright orange scarlet as seen from my window, and the small ones elsewhere are also changed. Sweet-briar hips ripe. As I complain that the voyager to arctic regions, in his description of the scenery, does not enough re- mind the reader directly or indirectly of the peculiar dreariness of the scene or of the perpetual twilight of the arctic night, so he whose theme is moonlight will find it difficult to illustrate it with the light of the moon alone.

P. M.— To Lee’s Bridge via Mt. Misery and return by Conantum. Yesterday was quite warm, requiring the thinnest coat. To-day is cooler. The elm leaves have in some places more than half fallen and strew the ground with thick rustling beds, — as front of Hubbard’s, — per- haps earlier than usual.’ Bass berries dry and brown. Now is the time to gather barberries. Looking from the Cliffs, the young oak plain is now probably as brightly colored as it will be. The bright reds appear here to be next the ground, the lower parts of these young trees, and I find on descending that it is commonly so as yet with the scarlet oak, which is the brightest. It is the lower half or two thirds which have changed, and this is surmounted by the slender, still green top. In many cases these leaves have only begun to be sprinkled with bloody spots and stains, — sometimes as if one had cast up a quart of blood from beneath and stained them. I now see the effect of that long drought on some young oaks, especially black oaks. Their leaves are in many in- stances all turned to a clear and uniform brown, hav- ing so far lost their vitality, but still plump and full- veined and not yet withered. Many are so affected and, of course, show no bright tints. They are hastening to a premature decay. The tops of many young white oaks which had turned are already withered, appar- ently by frost. . Saw two either pigeon or sparrow hawks, appar- ently male and female, the one much larger than the other. I see in many places the fallen leaves quite thickly covering the ground in the woods. A large flock of crows wandering about and cawing as usual at this season. I hear a very pleasant and now unusual strain on the sunny side of an oak wood from many — I think F. hyemalis (?), though I do not get a clear view of them. Even their slight jingling strain is re- markable at this still season. The catbird still mews. I see two ducks alternately diving in smooth water near the shore of Fair Haven Pond. Sometimes both are under at once. The milkweed down is flying at Clema- tis Ditch. This evening is quite cool and breezy, with a pro- longed white twilight, quite Septemberish. When I look at the stars, nothing which the astrono- mers have said attaches to them, they are so simple and remote. Their knowledge is felt to be all terres- trial and to concern the earth alone. It suggests that the same is the case with every object, however familiar; our so-called knowledge of it is equally vulgar and remote. One might say that all views through a telescope or microscope were purely visionary, for it is only by his eye and not by any other sense — not by his whole man — that the beholder is there where he is presumed to be. It is a disruptive mode of viewing as far as the beholder is concerned.

P. M.—Vvza Assabet to the monarda road. I am surprised to see that some red maples, which were so brilliant a day or two ago, have already shed their leaves, and they cover the land and the water quite thickly. I see a countless fleet of them slowly carried round in the still bay by the Leaning Hem- locks.*. I find a fine tupelo near Sam Barrett’s now all turned scarlet. I find that it has borne much fruit —— small oval bluish berries, those I see — and a very little not ripe is still left. Gray calls it blackish-blue. It seems to be contemporary with the sassafras. Both these trees are now particularly forward and con- spicuous in their autumnal change. I detect the sassafras by its peculiar orange scarlet half a mile distant. Acorns are generally now turned brown and fallen or falling; the ground is strewn with them and in paths they are crushed by feet and wheels. The white oak ones are dark and the most glossy.

The young black birches about Walden, next the south shore, are now commonly clear pale- yellow, very distinct at distance, hke brght-yellow white birches, so slender amid the dense growth of oaks and evergreens on the steep shores. ‘The black birches and red maples are the conspicuous trees changed about the pond. Not yet the oaks.