hearth

It’s a dark night, sang the kettle, and the rotten leaves are lying by the way; and above, all is mist and darkness, and below, all is mire and clay; and there’s only one relief in all the sad and murky air, and I don’t know that it is one, for it’s nothing but a glare; of deep and angry crimson, where the sun and wind together; set a brand upon the clouds for being guilty of such weather; and the widest open country is a long dull streak of black; and there’s hoarfrost on the finger-post, and thaw upon the track; and the ice it isn’t water, and the water isn’t free; and you couldn’t say that anything is what it ought to be…

~Charles Dickens, The Cricket on the Hearth

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Photography by David Lee Black Studios. All images copyrighted. DavidLeeBlack.com


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