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For a town named after a case of mistaken botanical identity, Larkspur has done pretty well for itself. So well, in fact, that the town recently celebrated its centennial with a gala bash replete with a birthday cake, a parade down Magnolia Avenue and a historical reenactment of the 1908 city incorporation.

But everything might have been different had the people who named Marin's quaint burg been a bit better at identifying plants—-namely, the flowers that grew rampant throughout the area. Assumed to be larkspur, the blossoms were (and are) actually lupines.

The 100-year anniversary of Larkspur's marriage with Marin is unquestionably noteworthy, but the city's history stretches back even further. Up until the 1850s, the land later to be known as Larkspur, like much of Northern California, was unspoiled and overgrown with majestic ancient redwoods—-a state of affairs the Baltimore and Frederick timber company took care of in short order. The company's aggressive logging left many of the area hills bare; in the absence of the felled trees dairy farms sprouted up.

The budding businessman Charles Wright purchased one of those farms in 1882. Half-a-decade later Wright owned a large share of the farms in town and used his newfound clout to lobby the Northern Pacific Railroad to install a station. Told that the area needed at least five residences to qualify, the resourceful and determined Wright constructed a handful of Victorian houses. Thus placated, the rail authority built a station in 1891.

Wright gave over naming rights of the new station to his wife, who fancied the pretty blue flowers that grew wild in her yard—-even if she didn't know their name.

The newly christened Larkspur Rail Station brought an influx of settlers, and the downtown area quickly began to take shape and grow. During the 1880s, the town's population was composed of a rather rough-and-tumble mix of farmers and sawmill workers who frequented the 11 saloons lining downtown.

In 1894, the first Larkspur-Corte Madera school was built at the site of what is now Marin Primary & Middle School. A year later, the Blue Rock Inn was erected at the corner of Magnolia and Ward.

Magnolia, at the time known simply and unimaginatively as County Road, was a pothole-ridden, unpaved stretch of dust (and in the rainy months, thick mud) until after 1910, when the city council had the road paved and initiated the construction of city hall.

The arrival of Prohibition led to the closing of most of Larkspur's rowdy watering holes (the Silver Peso is the only tavern that still survives from that bygone booze-fueled era). But as the saloons disappeared and the town's character changed, more people started showing up.

In 1920, Larkspur had just 600 residents; by 1970, that number had swelled to more than 10,000 (today the population stands at around 12,000). Growth breeds more growth. New schools, including Redwood High School, opened in the 1950s and in the late '70s, the ferry terminal and Larkspur Landing Shopping Center were constructed, solidifying the area's status as a legitimate destination for Marinites and outsiders alike.

Through it all, the downtown remained largely unchanged, retaining its singular, charming appeal. In 1982, the U.S. Department of the Interior recognized this fact by designating downtown Larkspur a historic area.

Today, visitors and residents can enjoy a range of fine shops, restaurants and activities. Stroll along Magnolia (the target of a rejuvenation project launched in February 2008 and set to involve tree planting and the installation of new bike racks) and you'll find, among sundry other establishments: the Escalle Winery, the picturesque and renowned Lark Creek Inn (backed, as the name would suggest, by a babbling creek) and the authentic, multiple award-winning Parisian-style eatery Left Bank.

The recently rescued and restored Lark Theater screens an array of interesting, provocative films and puts on a slate of special events.

The town also hosts several well-attended annual public events, including the classy and perennially popular Food and Flower Festival (something old Mrs. Wright would no doubt have approved of, lupines or not) and a lively Fourth of July shindig.

The Larkspur Library, a small but glistening gem, boasts one of the county's largest collections of audio books and also plenty of old-fashioned bound paper volumes, with special emphasis placed on books on World War II history, art, current events, travel, interior decorating, gardening and cooking.

In all, like much of Marin, Larkspur is a place blessed with an embarrassment of riches: scenic beauty; a lively, close-knit population; numerous exemplary business establishments; a colorful history; and, by all indications, a bright future.

One elderly female resident, basking in the glow of the town's centennial celebration, put it well: "This is just the kind of town that, once you're here, why would you want to be someplace else?

"There aren't as many places like this as there should be."

Not bad for a place named after the wrong kind of flower.

Larkspur Landing