26 July 1852 – 1 August 1852

By my intimacy with nature I find myself withdrawn from man. My interest in the sun and the moon, in the morning and the evening, compels me to solitude. The grandest picture in the world is the sunset sky. In your higher moods what man is there to meet? You are of necessity isolated. The mind that perceives clearly any natural beauty is in that instant withdrawn from human society. My desire for society 1s infinitely increased; my fitness for any actual society is dimin- ished. Went to Cambridge and Boston to-day. Dr. Harris says that my great moth is the Attacus luna; may be regarded as one of several emperor moths. They are rarely seen, being very liable to be snapped up by birds. Once, as he was crossing the College Yard, he saw the wings of one coming down, which reached the ground just at his feet. What a tragedy! The wings came down as the only evidence that such a creature had soared, — wings large and splendid, which were designed to bear a precious burthen through the upper air. So most poems, even epics, are like the wings come down to earth, while the poet whose adventurous flight they evi- dence has been snapped up [by] the ravenous vulture of this world. If this moth ventures abroad by day, some bird will pick out the precious cargo and let the sails and rigging drift, as when the sailor meets with a floating spar and sail and reports a wreck seen in a certain latitude and longitude. For what were such tender and defenseless organizations made? The one I had, being put into a large box, beat itself — its wings, etc. —all to pieces in the night, in its efforts to get out, depositing its eggs, nevertheless, on the sides of its prison. Perchance the entomologist never saw an en- tire specimen, but, as he walked one day, the wings of a larger species than he had ever seen came fluttering down. The wreck of an argosy in the air.

Tuesday. 4 P.M.— To Assabet behind Lee place. It is pleasing to behold at this season contrasted shade and sunshine on the side of neighboring hills. They are not so attractive to the eye when all in the shadow of a cloud or wholly open to the sunshine. Each must enhance the other. That the luxury of walking in the river may be per- fect it must be very warm, such as are few days even in July, so that the breeze on those parts of the body that have just been immersed may not produce the least chilliness. It cannot be too warm, so that, with a shirt to fend the sun from your back, you may walk with perfect indifference, or rather with equal pleasure, alternately in deep and in shallow water. Both water and air must be unusually warm; otherwise we shall feel no impulse to cast ourselves into and remain in the stream. To-day it is uncomfortably cool for such a walk. It is very pleasant to walk up and down the stream, however, studying the further bank, which is six or seven feet high and completely covered with verdure of various kinds. I observe grape-vines with green clus- ters almost fully grown hanging over the water, and hazelnut husks are fully formed and are richly, au- tumnally, significant. Viburnum dentatum, elder, and red-stemmed cornel, all with an abundance of green berries, help clothe the bank, and the Asclepias incar- nata and meadow-rue fill the crevices. Above all there is the cardinal-flower just opened, close to the water’s edge, remarkable for its intense scarlet color, contrast- ing with the surrounding green. I see young breams in small schools, only one inch long, light-colored and semitransparent as yet, long in proportion to their depth. Some two inches long are ludicrously deep already, like little halibuts, making the impression, by their form, of vast size like halibuts or whales. They appear to be attended and guarded still by their parents. What mnumerable enemies they have to encounter! The sun on the bottom is indispensable, and you must have your back to it. Woodcocks have been common by the streams and springs in woods for some weeks. Aster dumosus (?) by wood-paths. A quarter before seven p. m.—To Cliffs.

P. M.—To Yellow Pine Lake. Epilobium coloratum, roadside just this side of Den- nis’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 (N shaped sagitta- ria out, a large crystalline-white t hree-petalled flower. Enough has not been said of the beauty of the shrub oak leaf (Quercus alicifolia), 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 quinquejolia is in blossom. Is it identical with that about R. W. E.’s posts, which was in blos- som 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; 7. e. there are several kinds of each out. What is that slender hiera- cium 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.

P. M.—To Burnt Plain.

The fore part of this month was the warm- est weather we have had; the last part, sloping toward autumn, has reflected some of its coolness, for we are very forward to anticipate the fall. Perhaps I may say the spring culminated with the commencement of hay- ing, and the summer side of the year in mid-July. 3.30 p. M.— To Flint’s Pond.

P. M.— To Assabet over Nawshawtuct. There is more shadow under the edges of woods and copses now. ‘The foliage appears to have increased so that the shadows are heavier, and perhaps it is this that makes it cooler, especially morning and even- ing, though it may be as warm as ever at noon. Saw but one Lysimachia stricta left in the meadows, the meadow-sweet meadows. The green cranberries are half formed. The absence of flowers, the shadows, the wind, the green cranberries, etc., are autumnal. The river has risen a foot or so since its lowest early in the month. The water is quite cool. Methinks it cannot be so warm again this year. After that torrid season the river rises in the first rains and is much cooled.

P. M.—To Conantum. Is not that the small-flowered hypericum? The ber- ries of what I have called the alternate-leaved cornel are now ripe, a very dark blue — blue-black — and round, but dropping off prematurely, leaving handsome red cymes, which adorn the trees from a distance. Chelone glabra just out. Singing birds are scarce. I have not heard the catbird or the thrush for a long time. The peawaisings yet. Early apples are ripe, and the sopsivine scents my handkerchief before I have per- ceived any odor from the orchards. The small rough sunflower (Helianthus divaricatus) tells of August heats; also Helianthus annuus, common sunflower. May it not stand for the character of August? Found a long, dense spike of the Orchis psycodes. Much later this than the great orchis. The same, only smaller and denser, not high-colored enough.