They say that a sudden cold snap gives the very best foliage leaf-peepers could ever hope for. Looking at pretty, color-changing leaves is written into my history, as crispy shufflewalking to school as a child reminded me of crunching through the first layers of spanikopita which my foodie parents introduced into our meal rotation sometime in the 70s, swearing about the drying-out phyllo optional.
I love the changing leaves, and would nearly develop a case of what here we call tortocolis, but I suppose in English is probably called a stiff neck, craning to the right as I walked to the post office in college, back when a) I lived in New England and b) people sent things through the mail. As an aside, I got my second piece of real mail this year, and it was from the IRS, and no, it was not an audit notice, and I did not even have to go get it from the post office office, miracles do happen.
So, back to the leaves. This year's winter is brutal in Santiago, and people who live in precarious housing are particularly screwed. I may be cold, but at night I can follow some of Abby's clever tips, and a few of my own I'm going to write about, and at least one of which I already mentioned here.
But before the winter set in and most of the trees lost their leaves, or at least their color, we had the most spectacular Santiago fall I've ever seen, most of it concentrated through the park along the river in Providencia and if I smelled hard enough, I could almost smell some apple cider and cider donuts from Atkins, but instead I went to La Tetería and had some chai.
So bundle a little tighter (or turn up the AC if you're in the northern hemisphere) and have a look, at some Santiago fall, just for you. Because color like this is never out of season.