Wednesday Filler: A Western Intruder

Rising above some hidden courtyard, along with some disturbingly modern architecture, is a Mexican Fan Palm (Washingtonia Robusta).  In the foreground grows the native and rugged Cabbage Palm (Sabal Palmetto). 

In Southern California and parts of Arizona and southern Texas, Mexican Fan Palms get planted so much that one would think them native to such parts of the world (they are actually from Sonora and both states on the Baja peninsula).  They feature prominently in street plantings, and often form an urban backdrop in Los Angeles and San Diego, even more so to the extent than how the Cabbage Palm is used in Charleston.  With two native palm choices that nearly grow like weeds already in Charleston, I was amazed to find one at all, but snickered a little bit when I saw how hidden away it was.  Next post, the promised look at the green spaces of Charleston.

Sugar Pine

Far be it from me to dismiss the western pines when speaking of stately beauty and gracefulness supported by a sturdy frame.  While it is no Eastern White Pine, the Sugar Pine (Pinus Lambertiana) is definitely worthy of such remarks.  In fact, it actually is a "white pine", bearing needles in clusters of five and sadly being a victim of white pine blister rust.

Rim of the World Drive, San Bernardino County, California.

The Sugar Pine has the added distinction of prominently bearing cones which "drip" from its branches.  Its many picturesque qualities have made it the subject of many paintings and photographs, just as the Eastern White Pine was a favorite subject for artists such as the Group of Seven.  An Ansel Adams photograph of a Sugar Pine is prominently featured in the first floor gallery of the Department of the Interior building in Washington, D.C.

Like most trees of the Pacific range forests, the Sugar Pine is huge.  The tallest specimens are over 250 feet tall.  With the possible exception of pre-colonial Eastern White Pines, such specimens mean that this is the most massive pine in the world.  If you want to see one up close and personal, you need to head to southern Oregon, California, or Baja California, where they can be found in abundance when one climbs higher than a mile above sea level.

When the Beach Seems Like a Good Idea...

...everyone else will be there too.  Much of the continent is baking today, with even some of the Cree towns around James and Hudson Bay reporting in 80+ degree weather.  Some areas in Kansas and Oklahoma are calling in 108 degrees, which is actually the same temperature that Death Valley is reporting!  The map below illustrates how hot we are getting, and it also shows where some of the natural features of the continent (well, the United States anyway) are fighting back against the sweltering mess.

As we can see, the mountain ranges are somewhat effective at walling off the heat, or at least keeping it off of themselves.  The Great Lakes are dulling the northward push a little bit, at least by a few degrees, and much further where the deep cool waters of Traverse Bay are knocking things down into the seventies.  Florida is not suffering too much either, as the hot and humid waters surrounding it seem to be effective enough in holding off both the extremes of hot and cold alike.  The northwestern states, as usual, are blessed by being blocked in both by highly prominent mountain ranges and a cold northern Pacific Ocean which carries the California Current past its shores, which also benefits immediate coastal areas as far south as Tijuana.

That in mind, I would love to be here right now:

That would be South Laguna Beach, where the sea is a cool 65 degrees and the air is holding at about 72, and yet sunshine and palm trees still hold dominion.  Like I said, though, most of the Los Angeles metro area is probably thinking the same thing.  Southern California, at least on the coast, is a dream destination for those seeking summer moderation.  The beaches are wonderful, usually completely natural, and have fun things like the tide pools and sea caves that protrude from the land at the top of the picture.

In case you were wondering, those are Mexican Fan Palms (Washingtonia Robusta) towering over the parking lot, and yes, they are exotic to the area, but not entirely alien, as they naturally grow within a couple of hundred miles to the south of here in canyons of Baja California.  The municipal authorities in the region have plans to not replant these things (which have naturalized anyway) in order to create more a more native, shady landscaping "theme".  While I do think this is mostly a good idea, the palms take up so little space and use relatively little water.  They handle the salt spray pretty well, and let's face it, a palm tree on a beach or in the region's lovely sunsets is just a pleasant thing.

Anyway, find some friends, form up a car pool ride or take some mass transit, and hit the beach or some place close to a large body of water or a higher elevation and have a new appreciation for such places.

Old California: The Missions

California.  The word conjures up images of a vast urban landscape, mountains with towering trees in them, a pleasant climate, dramatic looking beaches, orchards and vineyards that seem to go on forever, and depending on one's political views, either a paradise or a cesspool.  Both in state and abroad, the left focuses on what they deem to be progress, while the right focuses on what a mess progress has made of things.  The past gets ignored quite well here, dismissed either as backwards or a pointless exercise in nostalgia.  Here and there, historical memory can be a bit hard to ignore.  Many of the names of the cities of California bear witness to both a colonial Spanish and Mexican past, and many recall the peoples who once dwelled for thousands of years here.  In some places, the names remain unchanged or slightly altered from older designations that identified them as missions.

First, a little history.  In the push northwards into the deserts and mountains, colonial Mexico stopped sending forth armies to subdue the frontier, and instead encouraged missionaries to introduce Christianity to the various peoples there.  The Franciscans and the Dominicans were usually the first to heed the call, but they were not extremely successful in adapting to very foreign cultures.  Though they would not give up, these orders knew that they were not making steady progress in evangelization.  They were proud of their histories, and proud of the work they were doing in the name of their faith.  Needless to say, when an upstart, young, and fancy religious order came along that seemed to improve on their work everywhere they went, well, rivalries developed into heated debates.  This new group, of course, was called the Society of Jesus, known commonly as the Jesuits.

The Jesuits started off a little differently from the older religious orders.  They did not have a cloistered division, they were not founded for any particular reason to reform or combat the enemies of Roman Catholic Church, and they centered themselves on a theme of "contemplation in action", meaning they existed to bring otherwise secular experiences and disciplines into a religious and theological context and understanding.  Needless to say, they drew in many different kinds of men, but most if not all of them shared a common intellectual fire.  As such, when missionary opportunities presented themselves, the Jesuits leaped at the chance.  Evangelization, you see, was not only a chance to spread the faith, but to explore the world, and even more exciting, to explore cultures outside of the European theater.  This got them into trouble in China, when the Dominicans insisted that religious conversion had to go hand in hand with cultural assault.  The Pope sided with the Dominicans, and, well, China did not see significant missionary activity again until the 19th century.

On the other side of the world, as the doors to China were closing, the gates in New France were thrown open by the Franciscans who were daunted by the wilderness and seemingly savage native cultures before them.  They invited the Jesuits to join them, who proved to have far more vigor in engaging the mysterious forests of Quebec and Ontario than they could have imagined.  In 1629, both orders were thrown out of New France by the English, who briefly held Quebec.  When the dust settled in 1632, the Franciscans did not return.  The Jesuits, on the other hand, threw themselves into their efforts.  In 1639, they founded Sainte Marie on the southern shores of Georgian Bay, the eastern enclosure of Lake Huron.  By 1642, they had founded a mission at Windsor, which would later become Assumption Parish.  This work among the Hurons (Wyandottes), Algonquins, Muskegon, Ottawa, Montagnais, and Iroquois was extremely difficult.  Flexibility aside, the two worlds were very different from one another, with entirely different outlooks on civilization.  The Iroquois openly attacked the Jesuits and French, the Muskegon, Ottawa, and Montagnais tolerated but largely ignored their efforts, and the Algonquins and Hurons suffered greatly for supporting them.  In 1649, the Society of Jesus learned a very painful lesson in adaptation: their first major loss.  Saint Marie was burned to the ground.  Today a church stands over the long lost ruins, which, in the opinion of your author, is one of the holiest places on this planet.

The Jesuits would later return, and push further inland.  Far to the south, they opened up a second front in the Chihuahuan and Sonoran deserts.  Running the length of Baja California, as well as along the western slope of the Sierra Madre Occidental and north into Arizona, there are a series of missions founded by the Jesuits, many of which remain intact and in use as parishes.  One of the most famous remains as Tumacacori, south of Tucson.  The Jesuits had a significant impact on the local culture, offering the "northern" peoples a different look at Spanish and Mexican civilization than they had otherwise become forcibly accustomed to.  Unfortunately, again, this would not last.  On the 21st of July, 1773, after decades of struggle with European monarchs regarding human rights, the Society of Jesus was suppressed.  Overnight, the black robes in the missions were replaced with grey and brown robes of the Franciscans.  Fortunately, much had changed in the relations between the two orders by that point, and the Franciscans, while not abandoning their methods, knew that the walk in this frontier world did indeed require adaptability.  Perhaps more strikingly, they also continued the Jesuit tradition of evangelization through art, and embraced the exquisitely ornate Baroque and Rococo styling of the Jesuit missions.  They built their missions in this style as they moved up the coast of California under the leadership of Junipero Serra.  Here is the most famous of their missions, San Juan Capistrano, built in 1782.

As you can see, Alta California never really disappeared, even under the smog and glitz.  Sorry if the image was a bit blurred, I had issues keeping the camera steady because I was in a state of awe, and this is after having been throughout some pretty amazing churches in Europe.  The smell of cedar wood and countless flowers outside, in gardens planted by the friars (who are better horticulturalists than Jesuits... well... maybe), combined with the wooden beams of the ceiling and hanging chandeliers absolutely shout "Alta California".  I half expected Zorro to jump out at me!  San Juan Capistrano lies mostly in ruins, having been damaged by an earthquake in 1812.  The above "side chapel" is intact, while the main sanctuary forms some of the most impressive ruins in the United States.

This is far from the end of the story, however.  The rest of the mission is largely intact.  In 1833, the mission was secularized, but a parish was formed later, and President Lincoln returned the property to the Church in 1865.  The parish here lives on, having been rebuilt in present form in the 1980's.  Come by tomorrow to see it, and be prepared to be shocked in a good way.