♪♪ (Wind Blowing) Marianne: The storms blow hard across the High Sierra.

Snows have a nasty way of bleaching out all color.

Up here, come December, grays and whites dominate.

But, as the days grow longer, color slowly returns across California.

In January, rains turn the coast range a glowing green.

Bike riders rejoice in the hills of grasses brought back to life.

By February, mustard explodes in the vineyards.

It'’s a sea of yellow.

♪♪ March sees color return to the redwood groves as forests of rhododendron celebrate the change of seasons.

"“They'’re gorgeous, this is unbelievable.

"” Roxanne Perkins: They kind of are left speechless.

Jim Celeri: Well, uh, they'’re just so beautiful.

Marianne: And the rhodies and the redwoods dance above a carpet of clover, delicate purple flowers fighting for attention among the giants.

The great Central Valley is suddenly home to billions of bees and what must be trillions of almond blossoms.

♪♪ Soon, the cherries make their annual entrance.

Ernie: The wonder of God'’s blessings.

♪♪ Marianne: By April, flowers paint the California coast a rainbow of colors.

Yellows, purples, oranges, and pastels frame the foamy Pacific in glorious ways.

♪♪ Along the Gold Chain Highway, through gold country, the poppies return.

By May, Yosemite is awash with snowmelt.

And in the valley, those delicate dogwoods awake to splash a little life into the evergreen forests.

By June, the meadows of the High Sierra can hold back no longer.

The wildflowers explode, pushing up from the once frozen ground.

Come July, the rush is on to visit one of the greatest selfie backdrops in the world.

Tuan Nguyn: Do what you gotta do to get the pictures, right?

Marianne: Miles of sunflowers and cameras, as the cartoon-like flowers dance in the glorious sun.

Hmmm... they would make a fantastic cartoon!

In places ravaged by historic fires, miracle flowers not seen in decades return.

Dr. Sasha Berleman: We can go an entire generation, and no one will ever have seen these flowers and then a wildfire will come through and all of a sudden, we'’ll have this pulse of plants that no one even knew existed there.

Marianne: By late summer, with the life baked out of the grasses, and the wildflowers done in by the heat, nature has one last dose of color in store, and it'’s a doozy.

Maria Holloway: They'’re beautiful.

Really, really picturesque.

Marianne: As the vineyards turn orange and red, the real show unfolds here, on the back side of the Sierra Nevada.

The aspens surrender to the shorter days and colder nights.

"“It'’s a special place for a lot of people.

"” Marianne: Forests glow fluorescent.

And then, winter returns, the grays and whites washing the slate clean.

But it will all begin again as the "“Colors of California"” return.

♪♪ (Mission Bell) ♪ singing in Spanish ♪ Long before the Gold Rush, California was pure wilderness.

♪ singing in Spanish ♪ In the days of the American Revolution, Alta California was just a sprinkling of Native American tribes, Spanish explorers, and mission settlements connected by a simple dirt trail - The King'’s Highway.

♪ singing in Spanish ♪ But in the early 1800s, mountain men trickled west and sent back stories of stunning places, the descriptions just too fantastic to believe.

♪ singing in Spanish ♪ The first drawings, and later, photographs, were black and white, tainted with a sepia patina.

Enchanting, in a certain way, but not really telling the whole colorful story of this special place.

Yet it was enough for the dreamers and by the early 1840s, the wagon trains began rolling west, pouring into the great Central Valley.

And here, the pioneers saw it all with their own eyes - ♪♪ the colors of a new and extraordinary place.

Hills covered in lush green grasses, accented with vibrant wildflowers.

A gumbo of powerful, lasting scenes.

Long before winter breaks its hold, the warm California sun soaks into the vineyards, and the mustards return.

By February, the yellow carpet spreads out for miles.

Delicate, close-up.

From afar, it dazzles.

Wine growers love the mustard.

It pumps new life into the soil.

Tradition has it that Spanish priests sprinkled mustard seeds along the El Camino Real, the road linking the missions, the trail thus marked with the bright yellow flowers.

Something even more dramatic unfolds in the redwood forests of California'’s north coast.

A purple carpet spreads out below the giant trees.

The rains revive the clover below the old trees, their leaves and flowers tinted purple.

They create a natural floor to the old forest, and a hint of color in a dark, green world.

But soon, more colors come to these ancient groves.

♪♪ With spring in full force, the rhododendrons return.

Linda Smith: Oh, my God!

Jim Celeri: Thousands of different hybrids, and different species and stuff - all different colors, sizes, shapes.

Marianne: From March to May, pilgrims pour into Fort Bragg to see the show.

"“They'’re gorgeous, this is unbelievable.

"” Marianne: Visiting the Mendocino Coast Botanical Gardens, a small plot of land on a coastal bluff, packed with a ton of rhodies.

Roxanne Perkins: People just turn into kids.

They love seeing the rhododendrons.

They kind of are left speechless.

Linda Smith: I was an abstract painter so, color- ♪♪ It'’s the saturation of the color.

I'’m not into pastels.

♪♪ ♪♪ Dick Jones: Great place for growing rhododendrons, not too hot, not too cold.

We can grow ones here that people simply cannot grow elsewhere.

Jim: And they do great in our climate up here in Fort Bragg.

We'’ve got the cool summers and the mild winters.

Roxanne: We get a lot of phone calls - "“When are the rhododendrons going to be the best?

We need to plan to travel.

"” And we usually say mid- April to mid-May.

"“Mm.

Oh, it smells wonderful.

"” Marianne: Each May brings the Rhodie Show, where the competition is fierce and the flowers, well, perfect.

Jim: A lot of it is freshness of the flower.

We don'’t want to see brown spots on the petals.

It'’s good to have good, open blossoms.

Marianne: The judging is serious business.

"“This is our- That'’s our blue.

"” Marianne: But really, on the north coast, every flower is a winner.

(train horn) And in this area, you will find some of the legendary old "“witness trees"” that have watched centuries pass.

Ride the Skunk Train up Pudding Creek and you'’ll find redwoods that have been around for a thousand years.

But the redwoods don'’t have a lock on longevity.

This magnificent Fort Bragg tree dates back 170 years.

Jone Lemos: My theory is that the house next door was part of the original fort, and ladies who lived there planted the trees.

Marianne: Jone Lemos works surrounded by this beauty.

In springtime, it creates a canopy of color.

Jone: Every morning, when I walk into my office and I come through this canopy of cherry blossoms, I feel very lucky to have this space.

I'’ve had people who have come back to Fort Bragg, who grew up here, telling me, "“I kissed my first girl in that tree.

"” Marianne: For the real cherry show, head to the Central Valley.

Ernie Giannecchini: They're spectacular, they're absolutely... absolutely gorgeous right now.

Marianne: Just outside Stockton, Ernie Giannecchini'’s orchard is awash in blossoms and bees.

Ernie: I planted them by hand.

2,202 trees.

The wonder of God'’s blessings.

Marianne: His orchard of bing cherries, shipped all over the world, have a delicate white flower and are just hypnotic in their beauty.

Ernie: You can see the bees.

Marianne: Bees are the key.

Ernie: They're workers, and they bring the pollen back and forth from one flower to the next, and that's what creates a... a pollinized cherry.

Marianne: But before the cherries bloom, it'’s the almond'’s turn, with the flowers ranging from white to a pale pink.

It'’s hard to miss, with a million acres of California planted in almond trees - or '‘amond'’, as some folks say.

Ernie: I think it'’s God'’s plan to have fruit throughout several months.

Marianne: Here, also, the bees are hard at work, and so is the wind.

At times, the orchard floor is matted solid with the fallen blossoms.

Spring brings a dramatic, yet fragile color to the California foothills.

Andrea Hern: They'’re beautiful.

Marianne: For just a few days in March or April, Daffodil Hill explodes in color near the town of Volcano.

Kim Grady: My great -great-grandparents bought it in 1887 from a gentleman named Pete Denzer, who came from Holland and brought some of the daffodils with him and planted them here and my great-great-grandmother loved them and took care of them.

Marianne: They plant between 6 and 20,000 new bulbs each year, and it feels like a hundred thousand visitors pour onto the hill from all over the world.

Peter Hayward: We came over from England.

They'’re lovely.

You can really tell the smell, as well.

Marianne: Sadly, by 2019, the event had become so popular, such an internet sensation, the family had to close the hill to visitors.

Just too many people and too much congestion.

But the flowers still bloom and remain a wonderful tribute to one of California'’s early pioneer families.

♪♪ In the Sierra, the dogwoods come out in April and May, announcing a new season.

Taylor Lewis: They'’re a good harbinger for spring up in the foothills, for sure.

I think it'’s, uh, the flower mystique and they'’re kind of all over California.

Marianne: But they are especially unique along the Merced River in Yosemite Valley.

With the waterfalls running full, they become the accent of the forest.

To the north, in the shadow of Mount Lassen, high mountain meadows are choked with wildflowers.

The snowflowers poke up through the forest floor.

In wet years, springtime has a field day on the California coast.

It'’s most dramatic in the coast range, where storms drop more rain and sea breezes keep temps down.

Spring is especially colorful on the Monterey coast.

In Pacific Grove, a walk along the water is a blend of waves and all sorts of color - oranges, and purples, pinks, and the pure white of the lilies.

Carpets of ice plant spread all over and waving in the breeze, framed by the crashing waves, you'’ll find the pride of Madeira, native to the island of Madeira near Portugal.

The coastline is the perfect backdrop for this purple flower, but it'’s considered an invasive species, and being removed in many places.

Further north, the mustard continues its dance in the coastal wind, framed by the Pigeon Point lighthouse.

In Valley Ford, Sonoma County, the rains paint the hills a thousand different shades of green and lets the mustard linger.

It'’s here the green hills meet the rocks, and the blue sky, and the foamy white waves.

Artists will come and just savor and smile.

Old sun-bleached barns and twisting roads showcase the rolling hills to perfection.

Along Pleasants Valley Road in Solano County, the coast range gives up to the Central Valley - prime country for weekend drives.

Bike riders find a special sort of heaven out here.

In the Altamont Pass near Silicon Valley, the rolling green mixes with the spinning blades of the windmills.

Old and new share the scenery in a special partnership.

But, of course, all this soothing green is fleeting.

As summer approaches, these hillsides transform into a dry gold.

But, of course, there'’s a downside to the golden hillsides.

On windy days, nature turns them into a lethal fuel waiting for a single spark.

As we saw in the wine country fires of 2017, the dead grasses can spread devastation on a big scale.

Yet, the flames are natural, and for the plants and trees, fire becomes a source of rebirth.

Dr. Sasha Berleman: Most of our plants in California actually need fire of one kind or another to thrive.

Marianne: Dr. Sasha Berleman is a fire ecologist who studies the effects of major fires.

Dr. Sasha Berleman: Fire on our landscapes is often times actually a very positive thing.

Basically, just cleaning up the understory and making a healthier forest by increasing light availability, reducing competition between the plants, making water more available.

Marianne: October 8, 2017.

The Nuns Fire races through Sonoma County into the Bouverie Preserve, it'’s land set aside by the Audubon Canyon Ranch in Glen Ellen.

Months after the fire, we get a rare look inside this preserve.

Fire damage is everywhere.

But among the blackened chaparral, you find flowers thriving.

Dr. Sasha Berleman: And that'’s actually part of what causes these wildfire blooms that are so common after a fire.

You get this pulse of nutrients into the soil, and all of these beautiful wildflowers have a chance to thrive.

Marianne: But most amazing, there are flowers here that only appear after the fires.

Dr. Sasha Berleman: There is a subset of wildflowers that only bloom after a wildfire.

Their seed requires either smoke or intense heat in order to germinate.

After a fire, they drop their seeds back into the soil and those seeds can stay dormant in the soil waiting for the next fire, for up to about a hundred years.

So, we can go an entire generation and no one will have ever seen these flowers and then a wildfire will come through and all of a sudden, we will have this pulse of plants that no one even knew existed there.

Marianne: Above Napa Valley, at the Foote Preserve on Mount George, that '‘once in a generation'’ happened.

The fire poppies returned.

Dr. Sasha Berleman: It's a really bright orange, with a... a yellow ring around the center.

It grows pretty tall on a nice, long stock.

Marianne: Fires hit this whole region hard, and now, we are seeing the results - the good and the bad.

High in the Mayacamas Mountains, it'’s easy to see where the fires downed fir trees and created knarled black skeletons of manzanita.

But among all this death, the California poppy explodes back to life.

Everywhere, you see this river of orange flowing among the charred ruins.

Indeed, in the spring, you will see the state flower all over California.

Paired with green hillsides and blue skies, the robust, yet delicate flower is something you never get tired of.

(train passing) By the middle of summer, one of the truly great floral wonders brings an invasion of people to Dixon, California.

♪♪ Giant fields of sunflowers mature and suddenly, people arrive with ladders, cameras, and big smiles, trying to capture the perfect portrait.

Tuan Nguyn: Well, I guess a friend recommended that we... we need a, uh, a ladder or something so I...

I only have one ladder.

So I was like OK, a couple of stools probably will do.

You gotta, you know, do what you gotta do to get the pictures, right?

"“I love sunflower.

"” Marianne: It'’s a steady stream of flower-lovers, as social media drives an army of people to fields as they peak out.

Al Ruiz: They didn'’t have sunflowers until the last five years, and all of a sudden, everybody'’s growing '‘em.

♪♪ Marianne: Bike riders love it out here.

You see them everywhere.

Al: This is neat, I like- Especially this time of morning.

It'’s really nice out here.

Marianne: But there is a big challenge: all the bees.

Al: You gotta be real careful.

I had one get in my helmet one time.

I had to, uh, abort the helmet real quick, like, so I wouldn'’t get stung.

Marianne: In the distance, Mount Diablo stands guard over the fields, and if you watch closely, it almost feels the flowers are tracking the path of the sun.

♪♪ Some of California'’s best colors only show up as the growing season ends, and fall arrives.

Come autumn, a drive into the Sierra Nevada is to visit a great cathedral.

Maria Holloway: They are spectacular.

They'’re beautiful.

Really, really picturesque.

Marianne: Words are not enough to describe the power of an October up here.

Maria: The texture and the depth of all the different colors combined, it really allows you to see the mountains and the hillsides in such a different way than in the summertime because the colors are so deep.

Marianne: The colors last just a few weeks, but the memories last forever.

Meghan Miranda: I think it surprises people.

A lot of people don'’t realize that this is happening in the eastern Sierra.

You think a lot about pine trees and the snow, and potentially summer hiking as well, and I think the color surprises people.

Marianne: On the east side of the Sierra Nevada, leaf-lovers pour into Mono County the way wine fanatics invade Napa Valley.

Ron Sawyer: Oh, this is the time of year.

If you miss this, you miss one of nature's greatest shows.

That's all there is to it.

♪♪ I have to have my... my High Sierra fix.

I haven't been all over the world, but this has got to be one of the most beautiful places on earth.

"“I'’m absolutely just loving it.

"” Kerry Parnell: Breathtaking.

Post-card every way you look.

Taylor Lewis: I'm a big October guy as it is.

This is the month I've been waiting for.

I appreciate the whole change.

I can almost... You can almost smell it in the air.

But I love the whole process of fall.

Marianne: The cold nights make this show so brilliant, but scientists are a bit baffled by the mechanics of it all.

Taylor: We still don'’t fully understand the whole process of why leaves, why they change colors.

Marianne: Taylor Lewis studied Environmental Horticulture at UC Davis and manages the arboretum and public garden.

Taylor: The tree knows that it'’s about to go into winter soon, and so it has to start this process of accumulating and drawing back all of these nutrients and all of these sugars back into the tree so that it can go through winter.

It doesn'’t want to try to support these leaves through the winter, and so it has to shed them.

Marianne: The oranges and yellows and reds are always there until the green chlorophyll gives up to the approaching winter.

Taylor: You start to see the green fade away from the plant, so chlorophyll is just a pigment.

In the leaf, as well, there are these carotenoids.

The carotene, which is an orange pigment, and the xanthophyll, which is, uh, yellow pigment.

These are the... the compounds that are already in every leaf.

Marianne: Folks up here are more concerned with when they change.

Jeff Simpson: It'’s a half -a-billion-dollar industry for us here.

Marianne: Jeff Simpson is with Mono County Tourism, and tracks the progress of the color, day by day.

Jeff: Yeah, we're inundated with calls daily on... on updates on... on the fall colors.

We do a weekly update every Wednesday, on where to see the fall colors, and how, um, they've progressed over the weeks.

Meghan: We spend a lot of time out and about this time of year getting real time photos, because people want to make sure that they'’re not going to miss the color, and it'’s so weather dependent.

One snow, or one cold snap, or even just a windy day can strip some of the trees of their leaves.

The aspen trees are really delicate.

It is a lot of spur -of-the-moment trips, mostly because you can'’t really predict with the timing of the leaves.

♪♪ Marianne: Folks from L.A. to San Francisco hold on every word written by Jeff and Meghan.

Olly Kramer: When I first moved here, the fall, there was nobody here.

Now, you see all kinds of people everywhere.

Richard Adams: It'’s great.

I mean, you'’re alive.

Marianne: Photographers like Richard Adams love it up here, and love capturing nature at her finest.

The magic is in the light.

At Lundy Lake, the trees paint the water a vibrant gold.

But perhaps, the best is along the dry escarpment of the east side of the Sierra Nevada.

Aspen groves snake down the ancient creek beds, stealing what moisture they can, creating dramatic "“rivers of color.

"” Meghan: When you'’re doing lots of fall color drives, you, you know, might see a vein of aspen grow along the creek, going up the side of a hill.

Marianne: But then, in California, the colors can change just like that.

Olly: It'’s kinda year to year.

You'’ll see some that turn redder, and, you know, some that just turn the gold.

When it starts cooling off is when they start turning.

And they can all go away overnight if you get a real cold snap.

Marianne: Red, yellow, purple, pink, green and white.

It'’s all there.

Taylor: Our eyes gravitate towards them.

This is why we love art.

This is natural art.

Marianne: Spring, summer, autumn, or winter, the colors always find a way through our eyes... into our hearts.

Out on the road, I'm Marianne McClary wishing you luck hunting the "Colors of California."

♪♪ ♪♪