Commonwealth Network
At the mouth of the canon, and overlooking the valley and town, is a typical California fruit-ranch. It formerly contained nearly a thousand acres, and embraced not only Santa Paula, but the land across the river and up the canon. It has been divided now, one of the original owners taking the fruit-groves , and the other the pasture-land and apricot-orchards. The vineyard is small, and so is the olive-patch, but the orange and lemon trees cover more than two hundred acres. Wagon loads of the luscious fruits are sent off every day to Ventura, and the trees lend a rich green color to the landscape.
The original home of the joint owners of the property is set on high ground and overlooks the entire valley. In front of the house is a wide veranda, almost entirely covered with vines, among which the California linnets have built their nests. From it a short flight of steps leads to a grassy half-acre of lawn shaded by palms and orange -trees, and bordered by gardens filled with a profusion of flowers. In the morning the birds wake one with their songs, and during the day the vines give a refreshing shade.
A California fruit-ranch affords a visitor almost infinite enjoyment, and to the owner is more than likely to return a liberal profit. Unlike the stock-ranches of the great middle West, it is invariably a most delightful home, whether a profitable one or not. The products of the several ranches near Santa Barbara are varied, some being olives, others oranges or other fruits, and many nothing but walnuts. It is questionable which product yields the most money. In the Santa Ynez valley the climate and soil seem best adapted to olive-growing; and in the Santa Barbara valley olives and walnuts do equally well. In the Santa Clara, the orange , lemon, and apricot trees thrive luxuriantly.
As a rule, oranges grow best the farther away from the sea they are. The trees do not need a particularly rich soil. Indeed, some of the best groves are on land that would not grow anything else. Water is used but sparingly. The ground is kept free of weeds and is ploughed at regular intervals. A grove that is from ten to fifteen years old ought to, and often does, yield a handsome return. The trees are planted in long rows, and are protected from high winds by eucalyptus trees, which grow rapidly and attain a great height. An orange -grove is never without fruit, which ripens early in the spring. Before it is picked, the blossoms have appeared, and the young oranges have formed; so that by the time the old fruit is gathered, the new is ready for market. The trees are carefully tended to prevent scale, and are constantly trimmed back to prevent too rapid growth. They are usually allowed to reach a height of from twenty to twenty-five feet. They never lose their foliage, and throughout the year form great masses of green, that in the Santa Clara, where the groves are numerous, give the valley a freshness that even the dryness of summer cannot destroy.
It was one long holiday for us at the Santa Paula ranch, --an early breakfast, a visit to the grove , the drive to town for the mail, quiet canters about the country, a picnic in the canon, and fishing-trips along the creek. Although the month was April, --fickle and cold in the East, --it was like June in the Santa Clara. The grain was knee-high, the groves were in bloom, the wildflowers carpeted all the fields. From the veranda we could see far up and down the valley, --eastward to where the hills came together and formed pale-blue barriers rising shadowy and indistinct against the bright, cloudless sky; southward to the town, beyond which ran the glistening river; and westward to the sea. The surroundings and climate both encouraged idleness.
Some one ought to write a poem about the Santa Clara valley. It possesses little historical interest, to be sure, but otherwise would easily invoke one's Muse. It has an Arcadian simplicity, but its coloring is superb, delicately shaded afar off, but clear and varied near at hand, a happy mingling of rich contrasts, and with every hue intensified and pronounced.
It is such a restful region too. The people work, but do not worry. The lack of animation might be wearisome in time, but for a month is enjoyable. All are farmers, --one waiting to gather his crops, another to pick his fruits. And while they wait the valley slumbers, and the river steals noiselessly down it to the sea. Such nights for sleep as we had may never come again. Certainly none more perfect can ever be. No sooner was the sun gone down than the air is that of October in the East, --clear, cool, and invigorating. A sputtering fire of eucalyptus logs burns in the open fireplace, and when it goes out bedtime arrives. Windows are thrown wide open, and through them comes the delicious oxygen. No wonder the Santa Clarans idolize their valley. It knows no winter. The seasons are all nearly alike, --one continual June, with flowers in one's garden when the snow is deep over all the Eastern hills, and singing birds and droning bees, when elsewhere in the world the country lies locked in the chill embrace of winter.
But to those interested in making it profitable, a ranch is not forever the scene of idle dreaming. There is always something that needs attention. There is the grain to sow and harvest, the irrigating-ditch to be changed and mended, the grove to be ploughed. Then the fruit pickers and packers must be looked after, or the corral repaired. But time commands no premium, and night brings its rest and recreations.