Thoreau writes in his journal:
This is about the last ofthe very dry leaves in the woods, for soon the ground will be shaded by expanded green leaves. It is quite hazy, if not smoky, and I smell smoke in the air, this hot day. My assistants, being accustomed to work indoors in the factory, are quite overcome by this sudden heat . . .
At evening I hear the first sultry buzz of a fly in my chamber, telling of sultry nights to come.