But I may be
mistaken. What I prefer to remember is one day's trip in that springtide
of prune bloom. For hours and hours of motor speed, we glided through a
snowy world that showed no speck of black bark or fleck of green leaf; a
world in which the sole relief from a silent white blizzard of blossom
was the blue of the sky arch, the purple of distant lupines alternating
with the gold of blood-centered poppies, pouring like avalanches down
hills of emerald green.
Getting out of the scenery zone only to fall into the climate zone.
Reader, it's just the same with the climate as the scenery. It's got to
be done some time, so why not now?
That's what California produces in the way of scenery and fodder. So
now, let's consider the climate, even if I am invading Jesse Williams's
territory. For it has magical properties - that climate of California.
It makes people grow big and beautiful and strenuous; it makes flowers
grow big and beautiful; it makes fleas grow big and - strenuous. It
offers, except in the most southern or the most mountainous regions, no
such extremes of heat or cold as are found elsewhere in the country. Its
marvel is of course the season which corresponds to our winter.
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