THE BEE-PASTUKES 343 



countless forms of life thronging about me, lying 

 down almost anywhere on the approach of night. 

 And what glorious botanical beds I had ! Often 

 times on awaking I would find several new species 

 leaning over me and looking me full in the face, so 

 that my studies would begin before rising. 



About the first of May I turned eastward, cross 

 ing the San Joaquin River between the mouths of 

 the Tuolumne and Merced, and by the time I had 

 reached the Sierra foot-hills most of the vegetation 

 had gone to seed and become as dry as hay. 



All the seasons of the great plain are warm or 

 temperate, and bee-flowers are never wholly want 

 ing ; but the grand springtime the annual resur 

 rection is governed by the rains, which usually 

 set in about the middle of November or the begin 

 ning of December. Then the seeds, that for six 

 months have lain on the ground dry and fresh as if 

 they had been gathered into barns, at once unfold 

 their treasured life. The general brown and pur 

 ple of the ground, and the dead vegetation of the 

 preceding year, give place to the green of mosses 

 and liverworts and myriads of young leaves. Then 

 one species after another comes into flower, grad 

 ually overspreading the green with yellow and 

 purple, which lasts until May. 



The " rainy season " is by no means a gloomy, 

 soggy period of constant cloudiness and rain. 

 Perhaps nowhere else in North America, perhaps 

 in the world, are the months of December, January, 

 February, and March so full of bland, plant-build 

 ing sunshine. Referring to my notes of the winter 

 and spring of 1868-69, every day of which I spent 



