Still liquid, the lakes hovered on the brink of freezing. These aquatic bodies glowed cerulean in the acutely angular light - sparkling irises of pristine composition backdropped by brilliant white summits and vibrant fall foliage. In between the imperceptible gusts that softly rustled the canopy, the scene became doubly magnificent in the undisturbed surfaces.
Well below zero, the red tones radiated by ancient oaks warmed the atmosphere to a bearable degree. So, fully threaded with every stitch I had, I braved the added cold of windchill and saddled up, stopping often to shake the blood back into my digits. The araucarias gave me courage, seeing their massive appendages flexing upward in masculine exhibition of strength, despite the cold. Expressions of awe were retarded by frozen face muscles, but if one could have read lips in slow motion through a snotstache, mine would have said ¨wow.¨
For good reason, this region has gained celebrity status in nature´s gossip. Softly banked corners dive in and out of thickets, often exploding into panoramas of muted colors. Purple mountains dusted in streaks of snow plummet through dense forests into huge bodies of water, and, contrary to its namesake, there are far more than Seven Lakes.
This time of year, the days feel like they're continually beginning or ending. It's hard to tell when it's actually arrived because at that point, it's already leaving. Anticipation grows as the clouds congregate, knowing that with a fraction more saturation, the particles would gain critical mass, but haste evaded me in favor of an idleness encouraged by the awesome consistency.Urgency in the air, countered by stillness of mind, balanced well.