Situated on the western verge of the continent, so far removed from the other parts of our country, not only by great distance, but by those mighty natural barriers that traverse the continent from north to south, California is eminently individual in her natural features. Stretching through nine and one half degrees of latitude, with a sea-coast of seven hundred miles, and several ranges of fine and lofty mountains, there is probably not another State in the Union that has so wonderful a diversity of climate and vegetation. Her shores, bathed by the warm Japan Current, or Ku-ro Si-wa, which is deflected southward from Alaska, are many degrees warmer than their latitude alone would warrant.

Her general topography is simple and readily understood. The Sierra Nevada, or "snowy range," upon the eastern boundary, with its granite summits and its shoulders clothed with successive belts of majestic coniferous forests, with an occasional snow-peak towering above the range, forms the eastern wall of the great Central Valley, which is inclosed upon the west by the Coast Range, less in height than the Sierra, but equally beautiful, less forbidding, more companionable. The great Central Valley, four hundred and fifty miles long, is drained by two rivers, which meet in its center and break through the Coast Range, delivering their waters to the ocean through the Golden Gate. The Sacramento and San Joaquin Rivers receive many important tributaries from the east, fed by the melting snows of the Sierras, and flow through one of the most fertile regions of the world.

The Sierras may be divided into five different belts, of varying altitudes along the length of the range, beginning with the foothill region, which may be termed the chaparral region. This is succeeded by the yellow-pine belt, above which is the sugar-pine, or upper forest, belt, which is in turn succeeded by the sub-alpine, while the alpine dominates all.

The Coast Range is channeled on both sides by many beautiful wooded caÑons, affording homes for some of our loveliest flowers. Mr. Purdy writes of it: This "is not a continuous range, but a broken mass of parallel ridges from forty to seventy miles wide, with many other chains transverse to the general trend of the range, and inclosing numerous valleys, large and small, of widely different altitudes. In the Coast Range there is no warm belt, but isolated warm spots. Climate here can only be ascertained by experience. The geological formation of the ranges and the character of soils constantly vary, and often widely at short intervals. Hence the flora of this region is particularly interesting. It is hardly probable there is a more captivating field for the botanist in the world."

In the north and the south the two great ranges meet in some of the noblest snow-peaks on the continent. Below their southern junction, to the eastward, lies an arid desert region, and above their northern junction extends a dry and elevated plateau to the northeast. Thus there arises a great diversity of natural condition. As all living organisms are greatly influenced by their environment, the flora naturally distributes itself along the lines of climatic variation. Thus we have alpine species on the snowy heights of the Sierras, and sub-alpine forms luxuriating in the meadows fed from their snows; inland species in the Central Valley, and following some distance up its eastern and western walls; the leathery and hardy forms of the wind-swept coast; the curious prickly races of arid regions; delicate lovers of the cool and shaded brook; dwellers in marshes and on lake borders; denizens of dry, rocky hill-slopes, exposed to the glare of the sun; and inhabiters of shaded woods. It may be said that the most characteristically Western plants of our flora are to be found in the Central Valley, in the lower belts of the Sierras, and in the valleys of the Coast Range, many of which extend beyond our borders, both northward and southward. Many of our alpine species are common to the East, and our maritime flora is of necessity somewhat cosmopolitan, containing many introduced species from various parts of the world.

The climate of California is divided into two seasons—the wet and the dry,—the former extending from October to May, the latter occupying the remaining months of the year. And this climatic division coincides almost exactly with the area of the State. Of course, these dates are not absolute, as showers may occur beyond their limits.

It will be readily seen that the rainy season, or the winter, so-called, is the growing time of our year—the time when the earth brings forth every plant in his kind. On the other hand, the summer is the time of rest. Most of the plant-life having germinated after the first moisture of the fall, grows luxuriantly during the showery months of winter, blossoms lavishly in the balmy sunshine of early springtime, produces seed in abundance by early summer, and is then ready for its annual rest. Instead of shrouding the earth in snow during our period of plant-rest, as she does in more rigorous climes, Nature gently spreads over hill and valley a soft mantle of brown.

When the first shrill notes of the cicada are heard in late spring, we awake to a sudden realization that summer is at hand, and, looking about us, we see that the flowers have nearly all vanished; hill and valley no longer glow with great masses of color; only a few straggling species of the early summer remain; but they too are soon gone, and soft browns and straw-colors prevail everywhere. It is then that the deep, rich greens of our symmetrically rounded Live-Oaks, so characteristic of this region, show in fine contrast against this delicate background, forming a picture that every Californian dearly loves; the MadroÑo and the Laurel spread their canopies of grateful shade; while the Redwood affords cool retreats from the summer sun. Then our salt marshes, as though realizing the need of refreshing verdure, put on their most vivid greens; and our chaparral-covered hill-slopes make walls of bronze and olive.

Perhaps no coniferous forests in the world are so beautiful or so attractive as the Redwood forests of our Coast Ranges; and they play so important a part in the distribution of our plants, it will not be out of place to devote a little space to them here.

The main Redwood belt is of limited range, extending along the Coast from Monterey County to Humboldt County, and nowhere exceeding twenty miles in breadth. Straggling trees may be found beyond these limits, but nowhere a forest growth or trees of great size. In its densest portion, the stately and colossal trees are too close together to permit of a wagon passing between them.

Mr. Purdy writes: "The Redwood is not only a lover of moisture, but to an extent hardly to be believed, unless seen, a condenser and conserver of moisture. Their tops reach high into the sea of vapor, and a constant precipitation from them, like rain, takes place. The water stands in puddles in the roads under them. This causes the densest of undergrowth; hazels, huckleberries, various Ceanothi, ferns of large size and in greatest profusion, large bushes of rhododendron, and numerous other plants make the forest floor a perfect tangle in moister portions."

Many charming plants find their homes amid the cool shade of these noble trees. Trillium, and scoliopus, and dog's-tooth violets vie with clintonias and vancouverias in elegance and grace, while little creeping violets, and the lovely redwood-sorrel, and the salal make charming tapestries over the forest floor about these dim cathedral columns.

On the other hand, the open forest belts of the Sierras, which are of far greater extent, present another and quite different flora from that of the Coast Range and the Redwood belt. There may be found many interesting plants of the Heath family—cassiope, bryanthus, chimaphila, ledum, various pyrolas, and the snow-plant; there the aconite, false hellebore, eriogonums and gentians, and new and beautiful pentstemons and Mimuli and lilies deck the meadows and stream-banks.

After the season of blossoming is over in the lowlands, we may pass on up into the mountains and live again through a vernal springtime of flowers.

Perhaps in no country in the world does the arrival of the spring flowers "so transform the face of Nature as in California." The march of civilization has brought changes in its wake; the virgin soil has been broken and subdued into grainfields and vineyards; still enough of the lavish blossoming is left us to appreciate Mr. Muir's description of the face of the country as it appeared years ago. He says: "When California was wild, it was one sweet bee-garden throughout its entire length, north and south, and all the way across from the snowy Sierra to the ocean.... The Great Central Plain ... during the months of March, April, and May was one smooth, continuous bed of honey-bloom, so marvelously rich that in walking from one end of it to the other, a distance of four hundred miles, your foot would press about a hundred flowers at every step. Mints, gilias, nemophilas, castilleias, and innumerable CompositÆ were so crowded together, that had ninety-nine per cent of them been taken away, the plain would still have seemed to any but Californians extravagantly flowery. The radiant, honeyful corollas, touching and overlapping and rising above one another, glowed in the living light like a sunset sky—one sheet of purple and gold.... Sauntering in any direction, hundreds of these happy sun-plants brushed against my feet at every step and closed over them as if I were wading in liquid gold. The air was sweet with fragrance, the larks sang their blessed songs, rising on the wing as I advanced, then sinking out of sight in the polleny sod; while myriads of wild bees stirred the lower air with their monotonous hum—monotonous, yet forever fresh and sweet as everyday sunshine."