Thoreau writes in his journal:
Pyrus arbutifolia melanocarpa fruit begins to be black. Cephalanthus occidentalis, button-bush.
The bass on Conantum is a very rich sight now, tlxnlgh the flowers are somewhat stale . . . The tree resounds with the hum of bees,—bumblebees and honey-bees; rose-bugs and butterflies, also, are here—a perfect susurrus, a sound, as C. says, unlike any other in nature,—not like the wind, as that is like the sea. The bees abound on the flowers of the smooth sumach now. The branches of this tree touch the ground, and it has somewhat the appearance of being weighed down with flowers. The air is full of sweetness. The tree is full of poetry . . .