144 East and West 
All about the grove, ceanothus, wild currant, 
gooseberry, and purple nightshade are bloom- 
ing as early as the middle of November— 
not fall flowers but the first spring blossoms 
—while California fuchias and some golden- 
rods are left over from the summer. Winter, 
in the Coast Range and the valleys of Cali- 
fornia, is the growing time, for it is the rainy 
season. 
While in New England, red and scarlet oaks 
are bared to the wintry blasts and white oaks 
are clothed in the few shrivelled leaves which 
cling dishevelled and forlorn like the tatters of 
a garment, the gentle goddess is tripping 
through the live oaks and the ancient groves 
have begun to renew themselves. But this 
renewal is inconspicuous. There is no mar- 
vellous transformation as with the decidu- 
ous oaks—a bursting of grey winter buds and 
a simultaneous unfolding of myriads of green 
and red and pink flags—but one by one 
an old leaf falls, a new leaf appears, and the 
visible change is slight. Beneath the oaks, 
however, blue-eyes, toothworts, and white 
forget-me-nots have the ethereal charm pe- 
culiar to the most delicate and exquisite 
spring blossoms and wherever they appear, 
their presence makes it spring. 
