In the 1930s and ’40s, picture-perfect rows of citrus trees covered most gently rolling hills surrounding the town of El Toro.
The hillsides, in turn, led to a mix of craggy peaks and canyons that are the Santa Ana Mountains.
For those living within the wide valley that led down to the sea, or for anyone traveling along the 101, this tableaux of neatly maintained orchards in the foreground, framed by natural hillsides in the background, was made all the more impressive by two mountain peaks – Modjeska and Santiago, collectively known as Old Saddleback – that, depending on the availability and location of the sun, turned various shades of amethyst and blue.
On most days, the sun appeared bright and warm. Only during the fall and winter months did wind currents off the Pacific Ocean bring occasional rainfall, rinsing dusty leaves to their original dark green.
It was, in short, the ideal Mediterranean climate for the world-famous California orange.
That is, until Jan. 11, 1949 – the day that it snowed on not just Old Saddleback but throughout much of Orange County as well.
Orange, Tustin, and what is now Irvine each recorded 3 inches of snow. The coastal hillside towns of Laguna Beach, Corona del Mar and San Clemente received enough of a coating to require their suddenly icy, slick roads, linking them to the inland, be closed.
The foothills and canyons, of course, received the greatest amount of snowfall. Ranchers in what is today Lemon Heights noted up to 5 inches of snow. Not to be outdone, the residents of Silverado Canyon reported 6 inches.
And what of El Toro’s orchards? The hillsides – now home to the city of Lake Forest – likewise were covered by the surprise snowfall, rendering the generally reliable smudge pots ineffective. Putting a positive spin on the situation, a claim was made that the snow would protect the already ripe navel oranges and soon-to-ripen Valencias from freezing. Before that optimism could be fully tested, however, the sun came out and turned the sparkling crystals into slush.
But not before local residents captured the rare occurrence with their trusty Kodaks. Among them were the Protheros, whose groves extended along El Toro Road, now occupied by El Toro Library and several shopping centers.
Flash-forward six decades, to the early-morning hours of Dec. 31, 2014, when a fierce rainstorm and falling temperatures left the community of Robinson Ranch and adjacent Rancho Santa Margarita with enough snow to inspire snowball fights and hastily constructed snowmen.
From snow to drought to El Niño drenchings, who says our Southern California weather is dull?