IN CALIFORNIA 73 



and in their throats patches of yellow, blowing to 

 the desert air a faint fragrance as of violets. Amid 

 the foliage hung still a few seed pods of the year be- 

 fore, in shape like elongated string beans, but dry 

 and brown now and splitting to release queer, lit- 

 tle, silken-fringed seeds. 



A dry tangle of litter and drifted brush, ridges 

 of sand and a huddle of rocks gave a look of sloven- 

 liness to the locality in which the desert willows 

 stood, and the trees themselves grew bunchily and 

 untidily; but a short distance away were a half- 

 dozen trees that for neatness and smartness of ap- 

 pearance I had never seen surpassed in a city park. 

 They stood, some twenty feet in height, in clean, 

 level ground swept clear by the wind, and were re- 

 markable for a general airiness of aspect for which 

 I could not at first account. I walked over to one 

 but it was some moments before I realized that the 

 entire bark of the tree trunk, branches and 

 twigs was light green. Moreover, the leaves were 

 quite small, pale and sparse, so that the limb-skele- 

 ton showed plainly through the foliage; and to 

 crown all, a wealth of bright yellow flowers, each 

 about the size of a buttercup, filled the tree with a 

 mild radiance that seemed of a world more spiritual 

 than this. The effect of the green and gold against 

 a cloudless, turquoise sky, thrilled me as a strain 



