la primavera

Spring is truly spectacular in Chile.  It's not like spring in the States, which is all wrapped up in the smell of wet earth and industrious worms and tender green.  Chile is dry, thanks in part perhaps to the hole in the ozone layer right above the country.  The sun glares pretty fiercely in the afternoon, which I'm imagining will make for a fairly brown and dry summer. But for now everything is soaking up those rays of heat and you can see the sun dancing in the brilliance of everything that is blooming.  Burgeoning. That's really the only word for it.  Roses are literally spilling over walls and gates with cala lilies peeking through, snapdragons are towering higher every day, and the hills in the campo are carpeted with pink, yellow, orange, purple, and white wildflowers.  One thing you have to understand is that the words we have to describe colors do no justice to what these flowers actually look like.  

We went to the campo on Sunday to ride horses, and looking around me I couldn't help but feel more connected to the earth mother.  Imagine looking out over rolling hills with the snow-capped mountains in the backdrop.  The hills are literally every shade of green and brown imaginable, from chartreuse to hunter green, from terra cotta to dark chocolate and coffee.  The smell of eucalyptus is carried on the breeze, and in that smell you can even see the calm blue-green of the eucalyptus leaves.  Willow trees gracefully bend into glittering streams, and pine trees add a hint of spice to the air.  The sky, of course, is always a clear bright blue.

Also, I allowed myself to be surrounded by bees, which is pretty amazing.