in Thoreau’s Journal:

This genus so kind to the human race the malus or pyrus—Rosaceae the the family or others say Pomaceae. Its flowers are perhaps the most beautiful of any tree.

I am frequently compelled to turn & linger by some more than usually beautiful 2/3 expanded blossoms— If such were not so common—its fame would be loud as well as wide. Its most copious & delicious blossoms.

But our wild apple is wild perchance like myself who belong not to the aboriginal race here—but have strayed into the woods from the cultivated stock—where the birds winged thoughts or agents have planted or are planting me. Even these at length furnish hard stocks for the orchard.

in Thoreau’s Journal:

A warm, drizzling day, the tender yellow leafets now generally conspicuous, and contrasted with the almost black evergreens which they have begun to invest. The foliage is never more conspicuously a tender yellow than now. This lasts a week from this date, and then begins to be confounded with the older green. We have had rain for three or four days, and hence the tender foliage is the more yellow.

in Thoreau’s Journal:

The earlier apple trees are in bloom––& resound with the hum of bees of all sizes & other insects. To sit under the 1st apple tree in blossom is to take another step into summer.

The apple blossoms are so abundant & full––white tinged with red––a rich-scented pomona fragrance––telling of heaps of apples in the autumn––perfectly innocent wholesome & delicious––

in Thoreau’s Journal:

Now is the season of the leafing of the trees & of planting. The fields are white with houstonias, as they will soon be yellow with buttercups.  Perchance the beginning of summer may be dated from the fully formed leaves––when dense shade? begins––I will see.  High blue berries at length. It is unnecessary to speak of them.  All flowers are beautiful. The salix alba is about out of bloom. Pads begin to appear though the river is high over the meadows. A caterpillar’s nest on a wild cherry. Some apple trees in blossom— Most are just ready to burst forth—the leaves being half-formed. I find the fever bush in bloom but apparently its blossoms are now stale. I must observe it next year. They were fresh perhaps a week ago. Currants in bloom by Conants spring—are they natives of America?

A ladies slipper well budded & now white. The v. ovata is of a deep purple blue—is smooth &––pale blue delicately tinged with purple reflections.––  the cucullata is more decidedly blue slaty blue & darkly stained.

The white violets by the spring are rather scarce now. The red oak leaves are very pretty & finely cut about 1 3/4 inches long.  Like most young leaves they are turned back around the twig parasol like. The farmers apprehend frosts these nights. A purplish gnaphallium with 3 nerved leaves. 

in Thoreau’s Journal:

Found the arum triphyllum & the nodding trillium or wake Robin in Conant’s swamp.

An ash also in bloom there—& the sassafras quite striking—

Also the Fringed Polygala by Conantum wood.

[Photos: Trillium erectum and Polygala paucifolia]

in Thoreau’s Journal:

The Rhodora in blossom—a delicate colored flower.

in Thoreau’s Journal:

In the case of the early aspen you could almost see the leaves expand and acquire a darker green––this to be said the 12th or 13th or 14th––under the influence of the sun and genial atmosphere. Now they are only as big as a nine pence, to-morrow or sooner they are as big as a pistareen, and the next day they are as big as a dollar. This from its far greater prevalence than the aspens, balm-of-Gilead, white maples, etc., is the first to give the woodlands anywhere generally a (fresh) green aspect. It is the first to clothe large tracts of deciduous woodlands with green, and perchance it marks an epoch in the season, the transition decidedly and generally from bare twigs to leaves. When the birches have put on their green sacks, then a new season has come. The light reflected from their tender yellowish green is like sunlight. 

in Thoreau’s Journal:

Yesterday when the blossoms of the Golden Willow began to fall—the blossoms of the apple began to open….It is a splendid day—so clear & bright & fresh—the warmth of the air & the bright tender verdure putting forth on all sides make an impression of luxuriance & genialness—so perfectly fresh & uncankered. A sweet scent fills the air from the expanding leafets or some other source—  The earth is all fragrant as one flower & bobolinks tinkle in the air. Nature is perfectly genial to man.

in Thoreau’s Journal:  

Trees generally are now bursting into leaf.  The aspect of oak and other woods at a distance is somewhat like that of a very thick & reddish or yellowish mist about the evergreens— In other directions the light graceful—& more distinct yellowish green forms of birches are seen—& in swamps the reddish or reddish brown crescents of the red maple tops—now covered with keys— Oak leaves are as big as mouse ear & farmers are busy planting.

in Thoreau’s Journal: 

To-day for the first time, it appears to me summer-like and a new season.

in Thoreau’s Journal:

The shad blossom…a very beautiful delicate flower….with its purplish stipules & delicate drooping white blossoms— — So large & graceful a tree or bush— 

The shad blossom days in the woods.

in Thoreau’s Journal:

I have seen a little blue moth a long time.  My thick sack is too much yesterday & today.  The golden robin makes me think of a thinner coat.

in Thoreau’s Journal:

The shower is apparently going by on the north. There is a low dark blue black arch—crescentlike in the horizon sweeping the distant earth there with a dusky rainy brush—and all men like the earth seem to wear an aspect of expectation — There is an uncommon stillness here disturbed only by a rush of the wind from time to time––

in Thoreau’s Journal:

He is the richest who has the most use for nature as raw material of tropes & symbols with which to describe his life….I pray for such inward experience as will make nature significant.

in Thoreau’s Journal:

This has been almost the first warm day––none yet quite so warm. Walking to the Cliffs this afternoon––I noticed on Fair Haven Hill a season still-ness as I looked over the distant budding forest & heard the buzzing of a fly–– 

in Thoreau’s Journal:

How dead would the globe seem—especially at this season if it were not for these water surfaces…We are slow to realize water—the beauty & magic of it. It is interestingly strange forever….I look round with a thrill on this bright fluctuating surface on which no man can walk—whereon is—no trace of foot step—unstained as glass.

 in Thoreau’s Journal:

If man is thankful for the serene & warm day—much more are the flowers—

in Thoreau’s Journal:

Bluets now just begun.— Dewy calls it Venus Pride! Gray says truly “a very delicate little herb” — “producing in spring a profusion of handsome bright blue blossoms fading to white with a yellow eye.”  I should say bluish white.

May 6, 1851 in Thoreau’s Journal:

How important is a constant intercourse with nature and the contemplation of natural phenomenon to the preservation of Moral & intellectual health. The discipline of the schools or of business–can never impart such serenity to the mind.

in Thoreau’s Journal:

Every part of the world is beautiful today— — The bright shimmering water—fresh light-green grass springing up on the hills—tender firm moss-like before it waves.— the very faint blue sky without distinct clouds is least beautiful of all, having yielded its beauty to the earth—& the fine light smokes—sometimes blue against the woods.— and the tracts where the woods have been cut the past winter. The beautiful etherial not misty blue of the horizon—& its mts, as if painted. Now all buds may swell methinks—now the summer may begin for all creatures. The wind appears to be a little N of W. The waters still high have a fine shimmering sparkle over a great part of their surface—not so large nor quite so bright as in the fall.

As I can throw my voice into my head & sing very loud & clear there, so I can throw my thought into a higher chamber, & think louder & clearer above the earth than men will understand.

in Thoreau’s Journal:

Leaf-stem, bud, and flower are all very handsome in their place & season.