The Natural History of Selborne

Cold black solstice.

Things in the garden do not grow.  Clap of thunder.  Vine-bloom smells fragrantly.

Golden-crowned wrens, & creepers bring-out their broods.

Farmer Turner housed his hay;  it should, I think, have lain a day longer.

Farmer Turner cut my great meadow.  He bought the crop.  Wood-strawberries begin to ripen.

Sparrows take possession of the martins nests.  When we shot the cock, the hen soon found another male; & when we killed the hen, the cock soon procured another mate; & so on for three or four times.

In Mr. Richardson’s garden ripe scarlet strawberries every day; large artichokes, pease, radishes, beans just at hand. Bramshot soil is a warm, sandy loam. Small cauliflowers. Wheat shoots into ear. Barley & peas are good on the sands. The sands by liming, & turniping produce as good corn as the clays.

Many large edible chestnut-trees which grew on the turnpike road near Bramshot-place were cut this spring for repairs: but they are miserbaly shaky, & make wretched timber. They are not only shaky, but what the workmen call cup-shakey, coming apart in great plugs, & round pieces as big as a man’s leg. The timber is grained like oak, but much softer.