I looked towards the small mounds that were California coastal mountains. The mounds were covered with brush and small trees. Heading south towards Mexico, the occasional spring would rise into the low crevices of a canyon and create a lush almost tropical scene. A pool of clear, fresh water nestled between the rocky faces and numerous varieties of green plant life sprouted. Palm trees soared above; their thick fronds heavily festooned with clusters of coconut pods. This land had been traversed for centuries by all kinds of animal and human life. It was a luxurious and comfortable home under the sun with morning mists that crept over the mountains each morning from sea. Each day dawned clouded in sea mist that dissipated as the sun rose and cast it’s glorious bright light over the canyons.
This region of California was the edge of the high desert. The high desert rose from the edges of the lowlands into a drier climate and endless blue skies. It was mostly scrubby and full of brush; but the canyons were small oases of lush vegetation and pools of water. Some of these bastions of hydration had been developed into famous hot springs where people from all over the world gather. They came, as they say; to take the water for rejuvenation and relaxation.
These mountains were full of history and mystery. Just above the city of Corona were old roads that wound around the hillsides and created passages into Orange County and the neighboring beaches. The roads dated back to the pioneer days. Cabins of the first homesteaders and abandoned mines still existed and waited to be explored. Vintage tools could still be found buried in the dirt roads. The old roads were a local hiking favorite. There were historic homesteads and oddities; such as a wall made of over ninety antique cars to hold back flash floods. There was a hill where an nineteenth century victorian had stood and was now rumored to be haunted. It was a favorite Halloween pastime to head up there and try to spot the spooks and make contact with the netherworlds. Each town along the interstate heading south had it’s story and it’s local folklore.
Most of all, there was beauty. A wild, lush, cacophony of plants, birds and animals that thrived along side civilization. The contrast of dryness and water, sometimes only inches away from each other created unique and beautiful natural environments. Everything from succulents to pine trees grew untamed and created a harmony of natural life that could only be found in this part of the world. Cougars ranged the mountains with bears. Bluebirds flew in the vast skies with seagulls that were vacationing at inland lakes.
I decided one day to take my dogs on an outing to the local dog park next to the Corona Airport. It was situated in a park with baseball diamonds and a playground. It was the end of the day and the sun was setting. Beyond the airfield, the edge of the Prado basin rose it’s lush, green head of thick vegetation. Just behind the greenery, the dry hills of Chino created a boundary between the inland valleys and Los Angeles county. The sunset was spectacular in hues of red, orange, purple and blue. There was a small bench just at the edge of the park and perfect for viewing the show.
Dogs were running about enjoying the last minutes of light and the cooling breeze as darkness descended and cooled the earth. Another dog lover joined me and we had a chat about her pug as we watched the glorious sunset. As the sun descended behind the green skyline, casting it’s rays upward one last time into the purple blanket of night; the silhouettes of palmtrees took the stage. One last vision of tropical nights in Southern California.
