June 16 It is eight days since I plucked the great orchis still fresh in my pitcher. June 16, 1854 tinyurl.com/hdt-540616

June 17 As white and yellow flowers give place to the rose and soon red lily yellow sun of spring becomes red sun of June heat – midsummer flower. June 17, 1854 tinyurl.com/hdt-540617

June 18 Many strawberries this season, in meadows now – just fairly begun. June 18, 1854 tinyurl.com/hdt-straw

June 19 The rain comes at a time and place that baffles all our calculations. Suddenly the gust big drops slanting from the north – birds fly rudderless. June 19, 2024 tinyurl.com/hdt-540619

June 20 Rosa lucida – stouter hooked prickles than the R. Carolina. June 20, 1854 A Book of the Seasons, by Henry Thoreau, Crickets are eating the Wild Strawberries tinyurl.com/hdt-540620

June 22 Is not the rainbow a faint vision of God's face? June 22, 1852 I feel my Maker blessing me. June 22, 1851 tinyurl.com/hdt-520622

June 23 Beautiful clear air – the glossy light-reflecting greenness of the woods. June 23, 1854 tinyurl.com/hdt-540623

June 26 Bright silvery light reflected from fresh green leaves – the dark shade of June. June 26, 1854 tinyurl.com/hdt-540626

June 30 Oppressively warm – haymakers are mowing now in early twilight. The lark sings a note which belongs to New England summer evenings. June 30, 1851 tinyurl.com/hdt-510630

July 1 I see from this hill the horizon-edge distinct clear air after rain. Shadows pass slowly over the green forest top clouds floating in sky. A late breeze rises wood thrush and tanager sing sparkling the river. July 1, 1854

July 2 The cocks crow hoarsely ushering in the long-drawn thirsty summer day . . . The spring of the day yet I do not remember the spring far behind. July 2, 1854 tinyurl.com/hdt-540702

July 4 Rich uncut grass-lands now waving under the wind waves of light and shade sweeping the breadth of the land waves of light and shade over the breadth of the landscape pursuing each other like waves hastening to break on a shore. July 4, 1860 tinyurl.com/hdt600704

July 6 That first faint tinge of moonlight from the east before day has departed it is wonderful our senses ever span so vast an interval as the grass turning to hay and flowers to fruits – that June is now past. July 6, 1851

July 10 Bream poised over its sandy nest on waving fin – so it has poised here and watched its ova before this New World was known. July 10, 1853

„In den dunkelsten Stunden unserer Geschichte gab es am 20. Juli 1944 ein kleines flackerndes Licht, das allzu schnell wieder erlosch. Aber dass es dieses Licht überhaupt gab, darf uns auch heute noch mit großer Dankbarkeit erfüllen.“ (tm) #MerzMail