Plant growth goes on
before our eyes, and every tree in the woods, and every bush and flower
is seen as a hive of restless industry. The deeps of the sky are mottled
with singing wings of every tone and color; clouds of brilliant
chrysididae dancing and swirling in exquisite rhythm, golden-barred
vespidae, dragon-flies, butterflies, grating cicadas, and jolly,
rattling grasshoppers, fairly enameling the light.
[Illustration: IN THE SAN GABRIEL VALLEY.--WHITE SAGE.]
On bright, crisp mornings a striking optical effect may frequently be
observed from the shadows of the higher mountains while the sunbeams are
pouring past overhead. Then every insect, no matter what may be its own
proper color, burns white in the light. Gauzy-winged hymenoptera,
moths, jet-black beetles, all are transfigured alike in pure, spiritual
white, like snowflakes.
In Southern California, where bee-culture has had so much skilful
attention of late years, the pasturage is not more abundant, or more
advantageously varied as to the number of its honey-plants and their
distribution over mountain and plain, than that of many other portions
of the State where the industrial currents flow in other channels.
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