Sometimes you will invite people over to dinner, and during the course of the meal, you will unroll a giant, unweildy map you have on the country, and this will happen.
And then, when you're least expecting it, someone will call you on the phone, and say, hey, let's go up to the mountains for the weekend.
And you will take the metro, getting off at the new Los Dominicos stop.
And find these silly boys with their arrow signs and follow those, as if you hadn't guessed that the connecting bus was upstairs, and would have wandered around for the rest of your life in the new metro station, or at least until it closed and they kicked you out.
And then for good measure you could follow the signs on the street, in case you'd gotten confused between the arrows and outside.
And then you would get off the bus here, at San Carlos de Apoquindo
And then you would walk, up and away from the city
first slowly, in the sun, then more quickly as time moved forward and you saw this behind you
And this ahead:
Until it was so dark and you couldn't see anything at all, except the glow of the city in the background, the snacks you ate for dinner and a sole candle burning in a tuna can in the firepit because we were all too lazy to even think about building a fire.
Like I did, you'll have to wait to see the flora. But oh! was there flora.
Plants come tomorrow. They always do.
Here's a preview, of wild asters, in three stages.
Vivid (the actual salto, or waterfall in the background)
Ready to be reborn (my favorite, brought to you by manual focus, thorns in my knee and a whole lot of patience).