It was rainy season in the Peruvian Amazon and we were told there was little dry land in the region. This was easy to believe, with the swollen river tossing whole trees like twigs down its miles-wide torrent. But as our skiff rounded a tributary, a large swath of lawn emerged, dotted with tufts of springy grass. The too-bright stretch of lime called to me from the boat, begging me to bound down its lush length.
As my eyes adjusted, I realized that this seemingly solid carpet of green was actually a large, dense grouping of water hyacinth, throbbing with electric blue and crimson dragonflies, spindly mottled spiders and monstrous ants. The rare break in vegetation revealed the river’s inky black water, where anaconda, piranha and alligator-like caiman lurked beneath.
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