Yourba Ma-te.

Senora Estella and Don Martin sweat layers of contentment and bare eyes are a better camera in their kitchen.  If only I could capture generosity and humility with this man made computing image contraption.  No papers required at border crossing just, "we're going to Senora Estella's casa." They exist between borders of Argentina and Chile perfectly and rightly so.  Neither Southern Chile or Southern Argentina beholds their venturesome statute.  Anticipatorily Estella and Martin produce produce for the eco feria.  Their farm will feed their community.  Consume Sano.  Consume locally.  Consume Patagonia and not from the trucked in weeks worth of produce.  But not without homage to their uncapturable appearance, this is a comment of daily Patagonia mate invitations.  

The invitation arrives in a tiny cup from Don Martin with a bombilla, a decorated castlesque metal straw.  Mate's lesson on ethics is, things are better when premeditatively shared.  Don Martin watches the kettle on the wood burning stove.  He methodically moves it about so the water remains a constant warm hot.  The mate, bombilla, cup, and warm hot water is passed from right to left each time returning to its host.  It continually and periodically reaches my hands until "gracias" is proclaimed, a final utterance of good fortune and fulfillment, or over-caffination.  I habitually say gracias each time the delight is handed to me.  This is excused, allowing for continual reception of beautiful trinket mate memories.  In mate invitations conversation supersedes all existence in priority.  Its slows sun time and my north americaness.  It is the el dorado of southern afternoons and it is a reason I might notice orion and his belt upsidedown.