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GLEANINGS IN BEE CULTURE 



November, 1922 



THE fifteenth birthday anniversary of the 

 only daughter of our family fell on Aug- 

 ust 30, and as that is also the anniver- 

 sary of her parents' engagement it seemed 

 fitting that it should be observed by a holi- 

 day, although we had some difficulty in per- 

 suading the busy man to see it that way. 

 However he did consent to join us if we 

 woi;ld let him go down to his office in the 

 city for a few hours, and therefore ten 

 'clock in the morning found the two Boy- 

 den families assembled in Pasadena to take 

 the auto stage, which makes a daily trip 

 up Mt. Wilson. None of the eight who made 

 up the picnic party had been up this par- 

 ticular mountain although at least one of 

 them never looked at the peak, with its 

 gleaming white sun tower belonging to the 

 observatory, that she did not wish she could 

 be there. 



Mountains are so full of mystery and il- 

 lusion. For instance, from our home that 

 ■white sun tower appears to be at a little 

 distance to the west of a peak rising con- 

 siderably higher. ' But we had long noticed 

 that, as we drove to the east, say to Ar- 

 cadia, the sun tower appeared to be just 

 as far to the east of that peak, and for a 

 time we thought there must be two such 

 towers. Then someone explained that the 

 sun tower is on the highest point, and that 

 the other peak, being between us and the 

 sun tower, appeared higher for that reason. 



In previous articles I have alluded to the 

 mountains appearing like a long, high ridge 

 to the north serrated with higher peaks 

 and then, when the lights and shadows are 

 just right or snow picks out the higher peaks, 

 one can see, instead of a ridge, many ridges 

 and peaks, the higher peeping over the low- 

 er ones, probably separated by deep canyons 

 and gorges. But when we drive close to 

 the foot of the mountains in the effort to 

 penetrate their mystery the near-by lower 

 ridges hide the distant penks so we can see 

 less than when we are at a distance. 



As the ascent of Mt. Wilson is made by 

 auto stage on the toll road (unless one has 

 strength enough to mnke the climb on foot) 

 it seemed to me, if we watched closely, we 

 would know all about the shape of the great 

 tilted-up mass of earth which is known as 

 Mt. Wilson. But now T am hoping a future 

 airplnne ride will reveal what the drive did 

 not, for Mt. Wilson is still a beautiful mys- 

 terv to me, and so are Mt. Lowe and Tamal- 

 pais. although I have been up both of them. 



After leaving the tollhouse the road dips 

 down into a canyon, crosses it on a bridge 

 and then starts up the narrow trail which 

 can be traced for some distance from the 

 valley below. On and up wo climbed stead - 

 ilv, curving into unsuspected canyons and 

 clinging to their steep sides, curving out 

 again where we hod fascinating glimpses of 

 the valley fnr below, making frequent 

 "hairpin turns" where a little cnrelessness 

 on the part of the driver would have shot 

 us off the narrow road into space. These 

 mountain drives always seem to me more 



dangerous than airplane rides, for automo- 

 biles cannot volplane down if they miss the 

 trail, but I believe accidents are extremely 

 rare. There were places where we could 

 see a section of our own road high above us 

 and perhaps two more sections away below, 

 which we had just traversed. 



The nine-mile drive from the tollhouse 

 to the peak is filled with beauty. As we 

 climbed higher the features of the valley 

 below showed only faintly through a violet 

 light, although the day had given promise 

 of being clear. The views of distant moun- 

 tains were magnificent, the trees and shrubs 

 in the canyons and on the mountain slopes 

 were surprisingly green for the season, and 

 although there were not many shrubs in 

 bloom there were a few which were very 

 fine, many covered with little creamy plumes, 

 like tiny pampas plumes. 



We ate our birthday picnic luncheon in a 

 little summerhouse in a quiet grove, which 

 looked quite like an ordinary resort with its 

 little hotel and scattered, tiny cottages for 

 the hotel guests. One might forget that he 

 was on a mountain peak unless he glanced 

 down through the trees and saw the broad 

 San Gabriel Valley spread out over a mile 

 below (6000 feet). Don't laugh at my en- 

 thusiasm, you readers who may live near 

 some of the high peaks of the Sierra Nevada 

 or the Rockies. Remember our mountains 

 here rise almost from the sea, and they are 

 satisfyingly high to ex-Ohio eyes. 



The temperature on Mt. Wilson averages 

 much lower than the valley, but we seem 

 to carry superlatives with us, for that was 

 the hottest day of the year on the peak up 

 to that time, 88 degrees. But it was alto- 

 gether delightful. Out on Echo Rock, with 

 the mountain sloping steeply away in three 

 directions to blue depths which made one 

 dizzy, while Mt. San Antonio (10,000 feet) 

 and its neighboring peaks stood out clearly 

 and deceptively close to the east, a wonder- 

 ful, cool air rose from the canyon depths, 

 air with a woodsy fragrance. 



Of course we went through the museum 

 and enjoyed the pictures taken through the 

 great telescope, and later we were conduct- 

 ed through the observatory in which is the 

 mammoth reflecting telescope, the greatest 

 in the world. We also learned that a pro- 

 fessor from Northwestern University has 

 been conducting a series of experiments re- 

 flecting light from Mt. Wilson to Mt. San 

 Antonio ("Baldy") to revise figures on the 

 velocity of light waves, and by the end of 

 another summer it is hoped some interesting 

 results may be made public. 



But life doesn't permit us to stav long on 

 mountain peaks, either figurativelv or lit- 

 erally, and so the time for descending came 

 all too quickly, especially for the nineteen 

 year-old boy who numbers astronomy among 

 his hobbies and who lingered in the observa- 

 tory up to the last second. And the fifteen- 

 year-old young lady thinks her mountain 

 peak birthday picnic was the finest cele- 

 bration she has had yet. 



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