Wild Geraniums in bloom

Wild geranium

More spring flowers! Today the first of the wild geraniums are up. They qualify as one of my favorites. That lovely pale purple shade isn’t common on the wildflowers around Roundtop. That alone makes their presence welcome.

Wild geraniums are a small flower. Even with that unusual shade they can easily be overlooked. I first saw this bloom last night as I was walking Baby Dog. I checked the surrounding landmarks and then returned later with my camera. And I still spent a minute or so looking for it.

The near-frost I had in the morning didn’t hurt the plant any. In fact, none of the woodland flowers that are out right now were bothered by the 30 degree drop in temperature. Perhaps it’s only the cultivated flowers that are less able to withstand big drops in temperature.

So far this May has been cooler than most. I don’t mind that in the least as long as whenever the seasonal warm-up finally does arrive it doesn’t appear all at once. I hate those years when I have to turn off the heat in the morning and turn on the air conditioner later that same afternoon. This year my heat is turned off, but the overnight chill was enough to make me, momentarily, re-think that choice. Instead I opted for a sweater and another cover on the bed, where I was eventually joined by every cat in the house. Amazing how quickly they want to sleep with me when the night is a cold one.

Shades of Purple

Wild Geranium

The first wild geraniums are in bloom on Roundtop Mtn. today. So far I haven’t seen any others. Every few or several years, the forest seems full of these lovely little purple flowers. Then after that, several more years will pass with fewer numbers of them. It’s too soon to know how many will bloom this year, though it’s probably still a year or so too soon for them to produce another banner crop.

2012 is producing a banner crop of wild violets, at least around my part of the forest. These deep purple flowers are everywhere. Don’t tell the other flowers, but I think the wild violets are my favorite—at least this year.

Rain is forecast for this weekend and into Monday, lots of it. Inches of it. Though no one wants rain on a weekend, my region is so dry right now that I’m not going to mind. Without any snow this past winter and few April showers this spring, the local rivers are already nearly as low as August. The soggy weather will likely put a damper on my hiking, birdwatching and photography—the three outdoor things I enjoy the most—but I’ll deal with it. The rain is much needed and will be welcome.

Wild violets

Geraniums in bloom

Wild geraniums are my Friday photo. This morning I am feeling as though I’m “done” with flower photos for the short term and plan to look for other woodland things that catch my eye this weekend. On Roundtop I’ve pretty much photo’d all the regular spring wildflowers found the mountain. Summer brings a different set of blooms, but even with the heat that’s predicted for this weekend, it will be too soon for them for a while.

Wild geraniums are a favorite of mine. That shade of pale purple or lavendar is striking and unusual. For a wildflower the blooms are large and gaudy. The plant is usually 8-10 or so inches tall and the blooms are close to an inch across. Each plant has several blooms, which only makes them stand out even more. This year the number of geraniums is fairly normal, which is something of a letdown after last year when they ran riot across the forest floor.

The wild geranium has several common names—wood geranium is one I like—but I’ve never heard it called that around here and “here” is where I live, so I’m sticking with wild geranium. The plant is happy in both dry and moist woods. Roundtop falls into the generally dry category, at least most of the time. Apparently the blooms can sometimes be white or nearly so, too. That’s another version I’ve never found here. I don’t think I’d like the white version as much as the purple ones. Part of the reason I like the flower is for the color of it.

Geraniums in bloom

I know I’ve already posted a photo of wild geraniums this spring, but I couldn’t resist another one. The geraniums are especially nice this spring, and this bunch is huge, much larger than is typical. Geraniums prefer dry conditions, which it was here for most of the spring, if not at the moment.

Sometimes, weather conditions favor what best suits one species. Just like in certain years strawberries are wonderful, and the next year they aren’t, the same is true of the forest’s plants. This year is particularly good for wild geraniums. The jury is still out on the strawberries.

Rain, rain go away (...and Wild Geraniums)

Another .75 inch of rain fell on the mountain yesterday, most of it last evening. I managed to quickly snap a few photos of the wild geraniums around the cabin before the next round of rain hit. Right now, the geraniums are the most prevalent of the local wildflowers. I can’t walk along the side of the cabin without having to dodge them. There are dozens of them around the cabin right now.

Lest you think that living in a cabins in the woods is all peace, quiet and wildflowers, the rain is forcing me to deal with a flooded basement. Even on a mountain, such things happen. In my case the water enters around the well casing. I’ve had plumbers look at it but none have yet come up with a good solution. It’s ground water from soaked ground, and even if I managed to completely block it at this entry point, the water would only go someplace else and the someplace else could be worse than where it goes now. Or so they say.

As a result, over the years I have armed myself with a variety of pumps. My basement is nothing more than a small space that houses the hot water heater and the electrical panel—all of which are raised off the floor of the basement. The little space can quickly get several inches of water in it. If it’s been dry, it takes a good many inches of rain to flood it. In spring, I often get a flooded basement when the snow melts off the mountain. This rain, which has been going on since Saturday, has the mountain pretty saturated, and I wasn’t surprised to discover an inch of water in it this morning.

I have both battery-powered pumps and an electric pump. The electric pump is a workhorse but requires a bit of work to set up. The battery-powered pumps are small, lightweight handheld things, originally designed for small sport boats. They are good for small jobs and have the advantage of working when the electricity is out. That wasn’t the case this time around, but it was after one such instance when my electric pump was useless that sent me looking for something that would work when I didn’t have power.

This morning, I set up both battery-powered pumps, and both were sucking air within an hour. I still have a slightly wet basement. None of the pumps will pump when the depth is much less than .25 inch. At least I shouldn’t get any more rain today. Tonight, perhaps a few showers but apparently nothing measurable is expected to fall, for which I am grateful.

A Walk at Night

On a moonlit night I stepped out of the cabin and went for a walk. I paused for a few moments at the bottom of the steps to wait for my eyes to adjust to the darkness. The moon wasn’t yet full, but it was close enough that the forest was filled with its silver shadows.

The night was still, calm, warm enough for mid-May. I carried no flashlight. The moon was bright enough. A ways off, I heard a deer step across leaves on the forest floor. The foxes called to each other, one close, the other very distant.

A walk through the woods at night always makes me feel a bit adventurous. Civilization seems far away. Sometimes I feel as though I could just keep walking and end up anywhere, miles away maybe. Somewhere in the next county or the next state, perhaps.

The moon is high. The stars are visible, if dimmed by the bright moon. I stay to the trails and woods roads. Those little open spaces let the moon shine into the forest and make the night bright enough for me to walk without my own illumination. I stumble on an unseen rock, step carefully over a downed tree and eventually reach a pond where the open water allows a clear view of the night sky. To the north, I see the lights of the city, miles away yet still very bright. To the west, I can follow the outline of the darkened ridges, sweeping away into eventual obscurity.

I find a log and sit on it, watching the sky and the night. Nearby, a Canada goose grumbles a brief warning to other geese, then quiets. I try to think no thoughts and let my mind reach out, away from the small thoughts of the day, to the distant stars. I watch the moon shine into the pond and spread its light into its depths. Be still, I tell myself. As still as the pond, as still as the moon, as still as the stars. The trees whisper among themselves, a different song of stillness. Minutes pass, an hour. The stillness remains, feels no time passing. For a few moments, I feel that timeless stillness, too. It is enough. The cabin beckons.

The Wild Geranium (and More Birds Arriving)

Wild geraniums are common as all get out here in the woods of the eastern U.S., but don't take that to mean I don't like them. They are also one of the prettiest of the native flowers. I'm simply reporting how common they are because if you're reading this from somewhere in the eastern U.S., you can probably find them just about anywhere you can find woods near you. The plants are small, though, so they don't jump right out at you. Wild geraniums are often found with or near mayapples, which are larger and easier to see, and which is where I found this one.


I've looked at a fair number of photos from other places around the east, and the color of the geranium varies a lot from blue to deeper purple, to my pale lilac shade. They are not supposed to ever be white, though. The leaves are heavily toothed.

It's another big migration weekend here at the cabin. I've heard the first wood thrush, seen blue-headed vireo and black-and-white warbler. The black-and-white warbler is a bit of an oddity. They prefer conifers, and I don't have many of those here in the oak forest. Of course it was just passing through.

The arrival of the wood thrush is only a day or so later than average. I still have only heard one and I haven't yet heard or seen an ovenbird, which usually arrive on the same bus with the wood thrush. Maybe today.