What an unspeakable joy there is in all this work. How it occupies one's brain and body, and drives away all despondency, care, blue-devils, and worry. Out in the garden I am a king, a proud monarch, robed in blue flannel shirt and overalls, my scepter a spade, and my right to rule demonstrable by my strong muscles, steady nerves, strong lungs, healthy skin, and clear eyes. Who would not reign in such a realm?
More than all else I feel when living this life that I am lifted above all the petty meannesses of men and women. I am dealing with creative forces--things direct from the hands of God--sunshine, air, water, soil, growth, development, life. And how such feelings expand the soul!
Then I begin to think of the wonderful work in flowers, fruits, and plants performed by Hugo de Vries and our own Luther Burbank, and as I recall their achievements I feel the opening up of a new realm before me. Never can I forget the joy of a couple of days with Burbank at his home at Santa Rosa, and his "proving grounds," at Sebastopol. I there saw his winter rhubarb, and as we walked along we came to his cactus patch. The first section was of the rude, prickly leaves I was so familiar with on the desert; the next section less prickly and so on, until at last, with a frolic, Mr. Burbank "dived" into the cactus, rubbed his face and ears against the great leaves and demonstrated them free from every vestige of a thorn.
Then we saw flowers that he had completely changed, in size, color, form, and odor, and when you ask how it was all done he declares that any man or woman with the necessary patience and skill (and skill comes with patience) can produce results as apparently marvelous as his own. For the marvel is apparent and not real; it is nothing but the understanding and application of natural laws; laws that Darwin and others have well understood and enunciated.
At Sebastopol I had the joy of seeing him work in the selection of plum trees. Row after row of young bearing plum trees stood before us. With two men following him, one with black strings, and the other with white, he began. Picking a plum from the first tree, he bit into it. I did likewise. To me it seemed a good plum. He rapidly commented upon: 1, its appearance, shape, etc.; 2, color; 3, firmness of texture; 4, flavor; 5, sweetness. Then he did the same with the tree: its extent of foliage, shapeliness, etc. All these things had to be considered. The first few trees he took very slowly and deliberately in order that I might clearly comprehend what he was after. Then, almost as quickly as his eye fell upon a tree, he had put his teeth into the fruit, his trained intellect had decided whether the tree was worth keeping or killing, and as he said "keep" or "kill," the attendants tied on the corresponding white or black strings. To produce the plum he wanted he assured me he has destroyed over a million trees.