in Thoreau’s Journal:

Like the fruits, when cooler weather and frosts arrive, we too are braced and ripened. When we shift from the shady to the sunny side of the house, and sit there in an extra coat for warmth, our green and leafy and pulpy thoughts acquire color and flavor, and perchance a sweet nuttiness at last, worth your cracking.

in Thoreau’s Journal:

There are various degrees of living out-of-doors. You must be outdoors long, early and late, and travel far and earnestly, in order to perceive the phenomena of the day. Even then much will escape you. Few live so far outdoors as to hear the first geese go over.

in Thoreau’s Journal:

This is the season of fogs.

in Thoreau’s Journal:

The conspicuous & handsome bluish masses of A puniceus erect or fallen stretch in endless rows along the brook — often as high as your head— Sometimes make islands in the meadows.

in Thoreau’s Journal:

If you sit at an open attic window almost anywhere, about the 20th of September, you will see many a milkweed down go sailing by on a level with you, — though commonly it has lost its freight, —notwithstanding that you may not know of any of these plants growing in your neighborhood.

in Thoreau’s Journal:

And next the redness became a sort of yellowish or fawn colored light & the sun now set fire to the edges of the broken cloud which had hung over the horizon—& they glowed like burning turf.

in Thoreau’s Journal:

While the grass is fresh the earth is in its vigor. The greenness of the grass is the best symptom or evidence of the earth’s youth or health. Perhaps it will be found that when the grass ceases to be fresh & green or after June—the birds have ceased to sing—& the fireflies too no longer in myriads sparkle in the meadows—

in Thoreau’s Journal:

A certain refinement & civilization in nature which increases with the wildness. The civilization that consists with wildness. The light that is in night. A smile as in a dream on the face of the sleeping lake.  There is light enough to show what we see—what night has to exhibit—any more would obscure these objects.

in Thoreau’s Journal:

In the woods near the top the Vib. lantanoides Hobble bush-Am. in fruit—mostly large & red but the ripe dark blue. or black like the V. nudum— what I have formerly falsely called Moose-berry.

in Thoreau’s Journal:

Some galls on the oak an inch in diameter like cast steel-soap balls–quite handsome. Some smaller and redder….

in Thoreau’s Journal:

See one or 2 lilies yet.

The fragrance of a grape-vine branch, with ripe grapes on it, which I have brought home, fills the whole house. This fragrance is exceedingly rich, surpassing the flavor of any grape….

Would it not be worth the while to devote one day each year to collecting with pains the different kinds of asters––perhaps about this time––and another to the goldenrods?

in Thoreau’s Journal:

The Soapwort gentian out abundantly in Flints-Bridge Lane—ap. for a week—a surprisingly deep faintly purplish blue….it has the flowering of the sky.  The sky has descended & kissed the earth….Why come these blue flowers thus late in the year.

in Thoreau’s Journal:

It is always essential that we love to do what we are doing, do it with a heart. The maturity of the mind, however, may perchance consist with a certain dryness.

in Thoreau’s Journal:

I see white lilies wide open at 2: 30 P. M. They are half open even at 5 P. M. in many places this moist cloudy day and thus late in their season.

in Thoreau’s Journal:

The reflections are perfect.

in Thoreau’s Journal:

The clearness of the air which began with the cool morning of the 28th ult— makes it delicious to gaze in any direction….Coolness & clarity go together.

in Thoreau’s Journal:

All these high colors in the stems and leaves and other portions of plants answer to some maturity in us. I presume if I am the wiser for having lived this season through, such plants will emblazon the truth of my experience over the face of nature, and I shall be aware of a beauty and sweetness there.

in Thoreau’s Journal:

We did not come to a fence or wall for about 4 miles….heard some large hawks whistling much like a boy high over the meadow.

in Thoreau’s Journal:

Goodyera Pubescens–Rattle-snake Plantain is ap. a little past its prime– It is very abundant on Clintonia swamp hill-side quite erect with its white spike 8 to 10 inches high on the sloping hillside the lower half or more turning brown–but the beautifully reticulated leaves which pave the moist shady hill-side about its base are the chief attraction. These oval leaves perfectly smooth like velvet to the touch about 1 1/2 inches long–have a broad longitudinal white white mid-rib & 4 to 6 white parallel veins very prettily & thickly connected by other conspicuous white veins transversely—& irregularly—all on a dark rich green ground.  

Is it not the prettiest leaf that paves the forest floor? As a cultivated exotic it would attract great attention for its leaf– Many of the leaves are eaten. Is it by Partridges? It is a leaf of firm texture partially not apt to be eaten by insects or decayed– & does not soon wilt. So unsoiled and undecayed– It might be imitated on carpets & rugs–some old withered stems of last year still stand.

in Thoreau’s Journal:

More wind & quite cold this morning but very bright & sparkling autumn-like air–-reminding of frosts to be apprehended–-but hear a rumor tempting abroad-–to adventure….The red maples of Potter’s swamp show a dull purple blush-–& sometimes a low scarlet bough-–the effect evidently of the rain ripening them….