Manzanitas are California’s Sculptured Survivors

At Inspiration Point, Yosemite, sticky whiteleaf manzanita tends to occupy south slopes, greenleaf manzanita tends to occupy north slopes. (Photo: NPS)

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As an avid hiker in Southern California, I’ve become a deep admirer of the chaparral that carpets so many of the hills and mountains in the region. When I was younger, I didn’t think much of these plants. They seemed dry, brittle, and uninviting, and they’d often leave nasty red scrapes on your legs if you ever ventured off-trail.

But I’ve come to respect them, not only because they’ve proven to be remarkably hardy, but because when you look closer, they reveal a kind of beauty I failed to appreciate when I was younger. I’ve written here and elsewhere about a few of them: the fascinating history of the toyon (Heteromeles arbutifolia), also known as California holly, which likely inspired the name Hollywood and is now officially recognized as Los Angeles’ native city plant; the incredible durability of creosote bush, featured in a recent Green Planet episode with David Attenborough; and the laurel sumac, whose taco-shaped leaves help it survive the region’s brutal summer heat.

Manzanita branches in the high Sierra. The deep red colored bark enhanced by water. (Photo: Erik Olsen)

But there’s another plant I’ve come to admire, one that stands out not just for its resilience but for its deep red bark and often gnarled, sculptural form. It’s manzanita, sometimes called the Jewel of the Chaparral, and it might be one of the most quietly extraordinary plants in California.

If you’ve ever hiked a sun-baked ridge or wandered a chaparral trail, chances are you’ve brushed past a manzanita. With twisting, muscular limbs the color of stained terra cotta and bark so smooth it looks hand-polished, manzanita doesn’t just grow. It sculpts itself into the landscape, twisting and bending with the contours of hillsides, rocks, and other plants.

There are more than 60 species and subspecies of manzanita (Arctostaphylos), and most are found only in California. Some stand tall like small trees as much as 30 feet high; others crawl low along rocky slopes. But all of them are masters of survival. Their small, leathery leaves are coated with a waxy film to lock in moisture during the long dry seasons. They bloom in late winter with tiny pink or white bell-shaped flowers, feeding early pollinators when little else is flowering. By springtime, those flowers ripen into red fruits: the “little apples” that give the plant its name.

Manzanita flowers (Santa Barbara Botanical Garden)

One of manzanita’s more fascinating traits is how it deals with dead wood. Instead of dropping old branches, it often retains them, letting new growth seal off or grow around the dead tissue. You’ll see branches striped with gray and red, or dead limbs still anchored to the plant. It’s a survival strategy, conserving water, limiting exposure, and creating the twisted, sculptural forms that make manzanita distinctive.

And fire is key to understanding manzanita’s world. Like many California plants, many manzanita species are fire-adapted: some die in flames but leave behind seeds that only germinate after exposure to heat or smoke. Others resprout from underground burls after burning. Either way, manzanita is often one of the first plants to return to the land after a wildfire, along with laurel sumac, stabilizing the soil, feeding animals (and people), and shading the way for the next wave of regrowth.

Manzanita’s astonishing red bark The reddish color of manzanita bark is primarily due to tannins, naturally occurring compounds that also contribute to the bark’s bitter taste and deter insects and other organisms from feeding on it. (Photo: NPS)

Botanically, manzanitas are a bit of a mystery. They readily hybridize and evolve in isolation, which means there are tiny populations of hyper-local species, some found only on a single hill or canyon slope. That makes them incredibly interesting to scientists and especially vulnerable to development and climate change.

Their red bark is the result of high concentrations of tannins, bitter compounds that serve as a natural defense. Tannins are present in many plants like oaks, walnuts and grapes, and in manzanitas, they make the bark unpalatable to insects and animals and help resist bacteria, fungi, and decay. The bark often peels away in thin sheets, shedding microbes and exposing fresh layers underneath. It’s a protective skin, both chemical and physical, built for survival in the dry, fire-prone landscapes of California.

Whiteleaf manzanita leaves and berries (Photo: NPS)

The plants still have mysteries that are being uncovered. For example, a new species of manzanita was only just discovered in early 2024, growing in a rugged canyon in San Diego County. Named Arctostaphylos nipumu to honor the Nipomo Mesa where it was discovered and its indigenous heritage, it had gone unnoticed despite being located just 35 miles from the coast and not far from populated areas. The discovery, announced by botanists at UC Riverside, highlights that unique species localization, as the plants are found sometimes growing only on a single ridge or in a specific type of soil. Unfortunately, this newly identified species is already at risk due to development pressures and habitat loss. According to researchers, only about 50 individuals are known to exist in the wild, making A. nipumu one of California’s rarest native plants, and a reminder that the story of manzanita is still unfolding, even in places we think we know well.

A new species of manzanita – *A. nipumu* – was discovered in San Diego County last year (2024), surprising reserachers. (Photo: UCR)

For hikers, photographers, and anyone with an eye for the unusual, manzanita is a cool plant to stumble upon. I will often stop and admire a particularly striking plant. I love when its smooth bark peels back in delicate curls, looking like sunburned skin or shavings of polished cinnamon. It’s hard to walk past a manzanita without reaching out to touch that smooth, cool bark. That irresistible texture may not serve any evolutionary purpose for the plant, but it’s one more reason to wander into California’s fragrant chaparral, where more species of manzanita grow than anywhere else on Earth.

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How Citrus Transformed California

A Look into the Roots and Ripened Impact of the Citrus Industry

You might associate California with Hollywood, Silicon Valley, or even its stunning coastline. However, a significant cornerstone in the Golden State’s development, prosperity, and identity was quite literally golden: zesty, golden orbs of citrus fruit. California’s citrus industry had a profound impact on the state’s economic, labor, and global landscape, particularly within Southern California.

The citrus industry in California has surprisingly humble beginnings. Spanish missionaries brought orange seeds to California in 1769. The San Gabriel Mission was established in 1771 and had extensive gardens that included a variety of fruits and vegetables. The seeds for the Mission’s citrus trees are believed to have come from the Spanish missions in Baja California, Mexico, which in turn got them from the Spanish mainland. The original citrus varieties in Spain were likely brought over from Asia, as citrus trees are native to South Asia and the East Indies.

But the true beginning of what became a multibillion-dollar industry can be attributed to one man. In 1841, William Wolfskill, an American-Mexican pioneer, cowboy, and agronomist in Los Angeles, planted the first commercial orange grove on a 100-acre ranch near what is now downtown Los Angeles. Wolfskill, a frontier entrepreneur, had initially tried his hand at vineyards, but saw potential in the rugged, fertile Californian soil for more than just grapes.

Obtaining his initial seeds from the orchards of the San Gabriel Mission, Wolfskill’s citrus venture started small. However, his methodical approach to farming and his adoption of innovative irrigation techniques allowed his grove to flourish in the Mediterranean-like climate of Southern California. Wolfskill’s oranges were renowned for their quality, gaining him a reputation that extended beyond the borders of California.

Known as the father of the California citrus industry, his foresight and innovation set the stage for the development of an industry that became a cornerstone of the state’s economy and identity. Wolfskill’s real legacy lies in his profound impact on California’s agricultural landscape. When William Wolfskill passed away in Los Angeles in 1866, citrus was booming, but it was mostly a local industry.

The real turning point for the Californian citrus industry was the completion of the transcontinental railroad in 1869. The railroad’s establishment allowed for the efficient transportation of his citrus crops to markets in the east, bringing the sweet, sun-kissed taste of California’s oranges to consumers across the country. This access to nationwide markets transformed local citrus farming into a profitable commercial industry.

The citrus boom in California reached its zenith in the late 19th and early 20th century. It was during this period that the citrus industry became a pivotal part of the state’s economy and helped shape its cultural identity. The industry’s growth was inextricably tied to specific regions, primarily Southern California, including Riverside, Los Angeles, and Orange counties.

Orange groves cover the Southern California landscape early in the 20th century.

Riverside, the city in which the iconic parent Washington navel orange tree still stands, was the epicenter of the navel orange industry. These sweet, seedless fruits were a hit across the nation, revolutionizing the American diet and transforming Riverside from a small town to a thriving city.

Characterized by its bright orange skin, seedless interior, and distinctive “navel” at the blossom end, the navel orange is a variety synonymous with California. But its journey to the Golden State began thousands of miles away, in the far-off city of Bahia, Brazil.

The navel orange is a natural mutation that occurred in a Selecta orange tree, a variety of sweet orange, in the early 19th century in Bahia. This mutation caused a secondary fruit to develop at the base of the primary fruit, giving the appearance of a ‘navel’. The resultant fruit was larger, sweeter, and seedless, distinguishing it from other orange varieties.

But the navel orange is not the only variety that came to define California citrus. Orange County, aptly named, was a crucial player in the citrus game, its groves sprawling over thousands of acres. At one point, Orange County was the largest producer of Valencia oranges in the world.

Valencia oranges, named for the city of Valencia in Spain, are believed to have originally come from Southeast Asia, just like all other citrus varieties. Citrus trees are native to regions including present-day China, India, Myanmar, and surrounding countries. Over centuries, traders and explorers disseminated citrus fruits across the globe.

The Valencia orange was brought to the United States in the mid-19th century. In California, they found a new home in the perfect growing conditions of Southern California. The peak ripening season of Valencia oranges — late spring through mid-summer — complemented that of the navel oranges, which ripen in the winter. This made Valencia oranges an appealing addition for California citrus growers as they could provide fresh oranges to markets year-round by growing both varieties.

Los Angeles County, although now synonymous with the urban sprawl of the film industry, was once carpeted with citrus groves. The rolling, sun-dappled orchards were integral to the local economy and became an iconic image of the Golden State.

But the growth of the citrus industry brought about significant labor issues. As the demand for citrus surged, so did the need for labor. Initially, much of the work was done by Chinese immigrants. However, with the implementation of the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1882, growers turned to Japanese immigrants, then later to Mexican immigrants.

Working conditions in the citrus fields were often harsh, leading to numerous labor disputes and strikes, notably the Citrus Strike of 1936 by Mexican workers in Tulare County. The citrus industry thus played a significant role in the evolution of labor rights and immigration policy in California and the United States more broadly.

The golden fruits of California did not just revolutionize the state but also had far-reaching global impacts. California’s citrus industry significantly influenced agricultural practices worldwide. Its innovative irrigation systems, pest control methods, and marketing strategies were adopted by many other countries.

However, the industry also faced challenges on the global stage. Competition from other citrus-growing regions, like Florida and countries in the Mediterranean, put pressure on California’s growers. Additionally, changes in international trade policies and global consumer preferences continually shaped the trajectory of the state’s citrus industry.

Today, while the landscape has changed with urbanization and competition, California’s citrus industry remains a significant part of the state’s agriculture, generating billions of dollars annually. Moreover, the citrus industry’s historical and cultural impact is undeniably intertwined with California’s identity. Its echoes can still be seen in the names of places, like Orange County, or tasted in the sweet tang of a California navel orange.

The story of citrus in California is a tale of transformation, from a single orange grove in Los Angeles to a global industry that rippled through the state’s economy, workforce, and identity. It’s a testament to the power of agriculture to shape a region and its people and serves as a vivid reminder of California’s golden past.

Today, California Citrus State Historical Park preserves some of the rapidly vanishing cultural landscape of the citrus industry and tells the story of this industry’s role in the history and development of California. Furthermore, it recaptures the time when “Citrus was King” in California, recognizing the importance of the citrus industry in southern California.

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The Ancient Cycads: A Living Fossil Collection at Descanso Gardens

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Imagine a world lost in deep time. The atmosphere held less oxygen than at any point since the Cambrian explosion, and the land was dominated by iconic dinosaurs like Allosaurus, Brachiosaurus, Archaeopteryx, and Stegosaurus. It was an era poised for a new type of plant life that would come to define the landscape—cycads. While Jurassic forests are often depicted as dense with ferns, with their coiled fronds and lush foliage, these plants were not the sole stars of the ancient botanical world.

The true giants of the Jurassic flora were the cycads, seed-bearing plants with stout, woody trunks and crowns of stiff, feather-like evergreen leaves. In fact, the Jurassic is often referred to as the “Age of Cycads”. Cycads thrived during this period, approximately 280 to 145 million years ago, as evidenced by abundant fossils. These resilient plants, which once dominated prehistoric landscapes, have remarkably endured the passage of time, remaining largely unchanged (although this is now disputed) and offering a living glimpse into a world ruled by dinosaurs.

One of the most remarkable features of cycads is the toughness of their leaves. Touch them with your fingers. They have a much greater stiffness than most other plants. Cycad leaves are thick, leathery, and often waxy to the touch, with a heavy cuticle, a protective outer layer that makes them remarkably durable. Unlike the soft, broad leaves of many modern plants, cycad fronds are built to withstand intense sunlight, conserve water in dry environments, and deter herbivores. The stiff, sometimes spiny edges of the leaves would have made them a difficult meal, offering a critical evolutionary advantage during a time when giant plant-eating dinosaurs roamed the Earth.

Cycad leaves are quite hard and resistant to insects. Evidence shows that dinosaurs ate cycad leaves regularly. (Photo: Erik Olsen)

Despite their formidable defenses, evidence shows that dinosaurs did in fact eat cycads. Fossilized dinosaur dung, known as coprolites, has been found containing fragments of cycad tissues and pollen. Some herbivorous dinosaurs like Stegosaurus and Ankylosaurus are believed to have browsed on cycads, along with other tough plants of the Mesozoic landscape. These animals likely evolved strong jaws and specialized teeth capable of grinding down fibrous, sturdy plant material. In turn, the resilience of cycad leaves helped the plants survive repeated grazing and harsh environmental stresses, allowing them to persist across millions of years into the present day. FYI: Flowering plants, or angiosperms, only came into being during the late reign of the dinosaurs, during the Cretaceous Period (145–66 million years ago).

Recent fossil discoveries are also reshaping how scientists view cycads. In 2023, researchers uncovered an 80-million-year-old fossilized cycad cone in Silverado Canyon, California, revealing that ancient cycads were far more diverse than their modern descendants. Previously thought to be “living fossils” that had remained largely unchanged since the dinosaur era, cycads now appear to have undergone significant evolutionary changes during the Cretaceous period. The find, assigned to a new genus called Skyttegaardia, highlights how much more dynamic and complex cycad history may be than once believed.

Cycads are cool to look at and examine closely, and it turns out that one of the best places in the United States to see actual living cycads in Descanso Gardens in La Canada Flintridge. But how’d they get there?

In 2014, La Canada Flintridge residents Katia and Frederick Elsea called the city’s Descanso Gardens with an odd proposal: would the famous horticultural center take their collection of over 180 rare cycads, a fern-like plant from the days of the dinosaurs?

The garden said yes, and now those plants are part of an effort to recreate a prehistoric landscape. Sixty-six species were transplanted from the Elsea collection to the garden’s Ancient Forest. Cycads form the heart of the forest, but there are also Tree ferns, with feathery fronds, and Ginkgo biloba, known for its distinctive fan-shaped leaves. This area, dedicated to showcasing some of the world’s oldest and most primitive plant species, highlights the remarkable resilience and beauty of plants that have survived for millions of years.

Cycads are a type of gymnosperm. Gymnosperms are a group of seed-producing plants that includes cycads, conifers, ginkgoes, and gnetophytes. Unlike angiosperms (flowering plants), gymnosperms do not produce flowers or fruits; instead, their seeds are exposed or “naked,” typically held in cones or on the surface of scales. They also have a unique structure, with a large crown of stiff, fern-like leaves arising from a stout trunk. They may look like palms or ferns, but they are actually their own distinct group of plants, with over 300 species in the world.

In contrast, flowering plants have been far more evolutionary successful. Angiosperms dominate most of the planet’s ecosystems, with an estimated 300,000 species, vastly outnumbering the gymnosperms. Their ability to form flowers and fruits has allowed them to diversify into nearly every terrestrial habitat on Earth.

Cycad cone (*Dioon edule*) at Descanso Gardens. Built for an ancient world: Cycad cones are among the largest and oldest seed structures on Earth, evolving long before the first flower bloomed. Their rugged design helped cycads thrive alongside dinosaurs — and survive into the modern day. (Erik Olsen)

The cycads at Descanso Gardens come from all over the globe, including Africa, Australia, and the Americas. They are part of the International Palm Society’s Cycad Collection, one of the largest and most diverse collections of cycads in the world. The collection at Descanso Gardens features over 200 cycad specimens, including rare and endangered species.

One of the fascinating plants showcased in the garden is the Sago Palm (not actually a palm), Cycas revoluta, a dioecious species, meaning it has separate male and female plants. Male Sago Palms produce multiple cones at their center, releasing pollen that insects carry to the female plants. The female plants develop a single, large cone in the center, which contains seeds. When the pollen fertilizes these seeds, a new plant can grow, continuing the cycle of this ancient species.

Another fitting addition to the Ancient Forest is the monkey puzzle tree, Araucaria araucana. This small, spiky tree is entirely covered with sharp, scale-like leaves that resemble thick, dense pine needles but are much tougher. Known as one of the earliest living conifers, the monkey puzzle tree stands as a living relic from the time when these ancient trees dominated prehistoric landscapes.

Cycads are fascinating not just for their ancient history, but also for their unique biology. Unlike most plants, which have a single apical meristem (a region of cell division at the growing tip), cycads have multiple meristems, which allows them to produce new leaves even if the growing tip is damaged. They also have a symbiotic relationship with cyanobacteria, which live in their roots and fix nitrogen from the air, allowing the plant to grow in nutrient-poor soils.

Despite their ancient origins, cycads are facing modern-day threats. Many species are endangered due to habitat loss and over-collection for the horticultural trade. The cycad collection at Descanso Gardens is not just a beautiful display, but also an important conservation effort to preserve these ancient plants for future generations.

At Descanso Gardens, the cycads have been planted according to the geographic region where they originate: Africa, Asia, Madagascar, Australia and Mexico. Some of the plants no longer exist in the wild.

“For a really long time, this was plant life on Earth,” the former director, David R. Brown told the Los Angeles Times. “This helps remind me that, for as self-absorbed as we are often, we’re but a part of a story that has been going on for a very, very long time.”

If you’d like to learn more about Descanso Gardens, it’s collections and how it came into being check out this episode of Lost LA. And if you’re interested in seeing the cycad collection at Descanso Gardens for yourself, try visiting during the late afternoon, when the golden hour light heightens the beauty and mystery of these cool plants.

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The genius of Luther Burbank, father of the most famous potato in the world

Luther Burbank created some of the world’s most commercially successful fruits and vegetables, all from his Santa Rosa, California farm.

luther burbank - Library of Congress — Luther Burbank in his garden – Credit: Library of Congress

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Editor’s note: This article is part of an ongoing series about lesser-known Californians who have made a significant impact on the state. California Characters seeks to bring their stories to light, highlighting voices and achievements that history has often overlooked. Through this series, we aim to celebrate the individuals who have shaped California in ways both big and small, ensuring their contributions are recognized and remembered.

The Los Angeles Times recently ran a review of fast-food french fries that caused a stir because the writer placed fries made at California’s beloved In-N-Out burger somewhere near the bottom. This infuriated the state’s rabid fan base for what is arguably one of the best burger joints in America. (Raises hand in support). But one interesting side story, the ideal kind of story we cover here, is this: if it were not for the work of one Californian farmer, we would likely not have french fries at all, or at least not as we know them today.

That is because most french fries today are made with a particular strain of potato – the Russet Burbank – that exists largely because of one man: Luther Burbank. Burbank is a little-known Californian (part of an ongoing series) whose contributions to science, in particular botany, have had an outsized impact on much of the fresh produce we consume today.

Burbank is a towering figure in horticulture, credited with creating the science of modern plant breeding. For decades in the late 19th, early 20th centuries, his experimental farm in Santa Rosa, California, was famous throughout the world for the stunning variety of new fruit and vegetable varieties that emerged from the farm’s fertile soil.

Born in 1849 in Lancaster, Massachusetts, Burbank came to California in 1875, buying a four-acre plot of land to start a nursery and garden in order to breed edible crops. While not a trained scientist, Burbank had a preternatural knack for identifying desirable characteristics in plants, which he selected for through an arduous, time-consuming, and oftentimes brilliantly intuitive series of techniques that led to the creation of some of our most cherished strains of fruits and vegetables.

Over the course of his 55-year career, Burbank developed more than 800 new strains and varieties of plants, including flowers, grains, grasses, vegetables, cacti, and fruits. These include 113 varieties of plums, 20 of which remain commercially valuable, especially in California and South Africa. He also developed 10 commercial varieties of berries (including the oxymoronically-named white blackberry) as well as more than 50 varieties of lilies.

Amazingly, Burbank was able to achieve all this without direct knowledge of plant genetics, pioneered by the Augustinian friar Gregor Mendel in what is now the Czech Republic in the mid-1800s (and whose papers on growing pea plants were brought to light in 1901, long after his death in 1884). Burbank’s lack of precise record-keeping and somewhat unorthodox — some would say sloppy — record-keeping, has led some modern scientists to criticize his credentials. Purdue University professor Jules Janick, wrote that “Burbank cannot be considered a scientist in the academic sense.”

Luther Burbank with spineless cactus that he developed. (Library of Congress)

That said, Burbank’s innovations in Santa Rosa were revolutionary and garnered him worldwide attention, as well as financial support from benefactors like Andrew Carnegie, who supported Burbank because he believed the work was of great potential benefit to humanity.

Burbank perfected techniques in common use today such as grafting, hybridization, and cross-breeding. At the time, his efforts resulted in large yield increases for numerous edible species in the United States in the early 20th century.

But perhaps Burbank’s most lasting achievement was the Russet Burbank potato, which first came on the scene around 1902. Burbank bred the new stain from an unusual “seedball” he found on his farm, which came from a strain called Early Rose. Burbank planted the seeds, chose the most select fruits and further hybridized those. Soon, he had a wonderfully robust and hearty potato that he could sell.

This large, brown-skinned, fleshy-white tuber is now the world’s predominant potato in food processing. The Russet Burbank is ideal for baking, mashing, and french fries. It is now grown predominantly in Idaho, the top potato-growing state in the US, where the variety makes up more than 55% of the state’s potato production.

Burbank came up with the Russet Burbank potato to help with the devastating situation in Ireland following the Irish potato famine. His aim was to help “revive the country’s leading crop” due to the fact that it is “Late blight-resistant”. Late blight disease destroyed potato crops across Europe and led to a devastating famine in Ireland because the country was so dependent on potatoes as a common foodstuff. Unfortunately, Burbank did not patent the Russet Burbank because plant tubers, of which the potato is one, were not granted patents in the United States.

But the Russet Burbank was such a hearty strain, and so nutritious and flavorful (though some disagree), that it became the potato of choice for many grocery stores and restaurants. This did not happen automatically, but took about two decades to catch on. In fact, in 1930, the Russet Burbank accounted for just 4% of potatoes in the US. But things would quickly change with the advent of frozen french fries in the 1940s and the subsequent emergence of fast-food restaurants like McDonald’s in the 1950s. The Russet Burbank was perfectly suited for french fries and remains the world’s most popular potato by a long shot.

Unfortunately, Luther Burbank had a dark side, especially by modern mores. He believed in eugenics, the idea that human beings should be selectively bred like produce. He was a member of a national eugenicist group, which promoted anti-miscegenation laws, segregation, involuntary sterilization, and other discrimination by race.

Luther Burbank home in Santa Rosa, California. Credit: Library of Congress

Luther Burbank died after a heart attack and gastrointestinal illness in 1926. His name is known in certain regions of California, in and around Santa Rosa, although if you asked the average person who he was, few would be able to say. The Luther Burbank Home and Gardens, in downtown Santa Rosa, are designated as a National Historic Landmark.

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Luther Burbank created some of the world’s most commercially successful fruits and vegetables, all from his Santa Rosa, California farm.

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