Acorns Grown Upon the Summit of Mount Lowe. 6100 Feet Above Sea Level.
For the lowest as well as the highest of organizations the mountains are a grateful retreat. The simple amoeba, whose existence is undoubtedly the oldest of all times, finds living here impossible, for in water it must live and move and in desert wastes it must perish.
The stately yuccas—the candlesticks of our Lord—their white fragrant blossoms borne on the straight stalks, at a distance looking like so many white stakes set by surveyors, grow only on the mountains and foothills; while down in the deep canyon streams the lowest of plants, the algæ, abound.
The nearer one approaches to the mountains the more abundant are the signs of life, the more prolific is nature, the more do the flowers multiply; until when the foothills are reached one sees them to be literally covered with blossoms.
The ferns are already at the mountains, while the flowering plants all seem to be on their way thither, as emigrants from the dry valley, leaving but few by the roadside, stragglers loitering on the mountain march, or perhaps not stragglers, but simply doubters, hesitating whether to still proceed to where the water ever flows, or whether to wait and see what further wonders man can accomplish with his irrigation.
From the fertile, semi-tropical fields of Altadena, aglow with golden poppies, stretching up in the mountains to the rocky summit of Mount Lowe, where saxifrage and penstemons, ferns and nightshade harmoniously cleave to the rocks and strive to gain a living in summer time against altitude and dryness only to be buried in snow in the window months, the line of march extends.
Garden of the Gods, showing Two Sections, with portion of Circular Bridge, Mount Lowe.