The Story

Somerville Hastings was a surgeon who loved mountains more than medicine—at least on vacation. In the late 1800s and early 1900s, he crisscrossed the High Alps of France, Switzerland, and Italy on foot and by mule, notebook in hand. This book is his field journal of Alpine blooms: the fuzzy pink blossoms of `Senecio`, the delicate stars of `Saxifraga oppositifolia`. But it's less about plant names and more about the race against the rain. Hastings chased the brief window when high mountain slopes explode into color after the snowmelt. He tells you the exact weeks (late June through mid-August) for each species, and the exact slope direction. It's practical lore, not dusty diagrams. You hear rock falls; you feel windburn.

Why You Should Read It

Two things stand out. First, Hastings loves detail: he describes how `Eritrichium nanum` seems to be picked a hundred snowflakes and dyed them ultraviolet-blue. Second, he doesn't just celebrate beauty—he heads straight for the sadness behind it. Many of these flowers only last a few hours. A storm can rub out a site for years. Since the book was published, climate change and hikers have made some species rare or extinct. So reading his old lists (and drawings) feels a lot like someone showing you photos of a birthday party they had in a forest you can no longer visit. That somber edge made me love it deeper than any glowing coffee table volume.

Final Verdict

Who should snag this strange little title? Anyone obsessed with wildflowers—but also triers studying herbology and tourism. Historical adventure buffs (Into the Wild with edelweiss). And perfectly anyone who stops mid-stride on a path, looking for the names to become the thing they love. You don't float out now into a trail understanding the no patience behind wild color.
Rating: 4.5/5. Two caveats: the old names and Latin taxonomic language is original (1906 era), however the poetic mind makes this easy to enjoy using dictionaries where overwhelmed. This is a potent fit for bedside on colder trips.