Before we go any further I need to hit a few notes from the bittersweet melody that is Uncle Jeff's song. Such a man has never lived to tell the beautiful and sad tale of his life in two completely separate cultures one of which is now practically extinct due to the other.
Thomas Jefferson Mayfield came over the Pacheco Pass into the San Joaquin Valley in the spring of 1850 and he was 5 or 6 years old. The town of Sacramento had been formed in February of 1850 and his family was one of the earliest American pioneers to explore the interior of the big valley. These events are chronicled in a book created by anthropologist and historian Frank Latta, who created snapshots of people's lives on the final frontier that will be preserved forever.
The land was untamed with raging rivers feeding massive lakes and green rolling hillsides covered in oak trees and wildflowers. The water was filled with fish, and birds so numerous they darkened the sky above the marshlands and prairie where Grizzly bears weighing up to 2200 pounds hunted whatever they wanted, including people, all year long, never going into hibernation because the weather was so mild and the prey so plentiful.
Uncle Jeff described his voyage into the Golden State as the closest thing to heaven on earth he had ever seen or heard of, with wildflowers and animals on the hills the likes they had never seen. "It was like God himself painted the hillsides..."
From what I remember, Uncle Jeff's description of events to Frank Latta of those wild valley days must have been at least a partial inspiration for the opening scene of the tv show Little House on the Prairie.
The only thing is the description Mayfield gave was more beautiful than any director might create with a half-dead hillside and some phony flowers on a set in Simi Valley. I have personally witnessed glimpses of the natural wonder that once was. Through historical accounts and sometimes art or old photos I can travel to these places in my imagination.
That has always been my problem, I can never find the words, and oftentimes photos do not give justice to the world I see, because appearances are notwithstanding.
To be continued...