One of my favorite blogs, searchingtosee, recently posted a beautiful piece of writing paired with with stunning photographs. Sit down with a cup of coffee and enjoy!
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c.b.w.
He arrived home with two dead pheasants on his back, and thought it would be funny to dangle them in front of my face as I answered the door.
I screamed.
The boy was amused. The girl less so.
He hung them in the garden shed in the dense, bleak night, and after the snow had begun to fall, and a snowmen had been made [two hazelnuts for eyes; a jaunty snow hat, and an elephant for a companion], he began the long, diligent labour of preparing the birds with his strong, adept hands. The snow had created a perfectly crisp white work surface for the task. He plucked the feathers (taking care to put aside the two longest, most elegant), then they were gutted and washed, cleaned, and finally, pink, bald and dimpled, were ready for the pot.
The girl looked on in growing disgust.
“I’m not eating that!”…
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C.B. Wentworth 