I weary of five thousand calla-lilies in one church at Easter, and lose a little interest in roses when they bloom perennially and in such profusion that I have had enough given me in one morning to fill a wash-tub or clothes-basket! The wealth of color on the hills and mesas in springtime can never be described or painted.

The State flower, the yellow poppy with the name that would floor any spelling-match hero--the eschscholtzia--is most conspicuous, and can be seen far away at sea; but there are dozens of others, that it is better to admire and leave unplucked, as they wilt so soon.

"The ground is literally dolly-vardened with buttercups, violets, dodecatheons, gilias, nemophilas, and the like.

And yet these are the mere skirmish line of the mighty invading hosts, whose uniforms surpass the kingly robes of Solomon, and whose banners of crimson and yellow and purple will soon wave on every hilltop and in every valley.
"In April and May the lover of nature may pass into the seventh heaven of botanical delight.

Then in favored sections the display reaches a gorgeousness and a profusion that surpass both description and imagination." No one can paint the grain fields as they look when the sun puts into every blade a tiny golden ray and it is no longer every-day common grain, but an enchanted carpet of living, radiant, golden green.