Macro photography - Week 6 | The Fireplace

The old man sat by the brick fireplace and put oak logs into his huge maw. He was of a venerable age and had seen a lot and suffered a lot. He lived modestly and meekly with his old wife. From her he had seen many joys, two of which were abroad and visited only once a year.
The neighborhood they lived in was remote and lonely. There was no internet, no cable TV, and more importantly, no young people. stable and in the house.
The old man stretched slowly and turned his shoulders towards the warmth of the fire. His wife was dozing and he was alone in his thoughts...
And what can an old man dream about - of course about his youth. The memory of the past surfaced, and here it was - 60 years earlier. There was no old man, there was a young levant. The young man was as hard as a stone.
Even before he met his wife, Angel had one love. A love that accompanied him all his life. It was the love for HUNTING. And like any love, it was stormy at first, gradually subsided and finally tamed, but with a large dose of life experience The old man looked at both love and hunting with different eyes - the eyes of wisdom.
The old man had an old Krupp parallelepiped with open butts. The years had left scratches on the stock and barrels of the weapon, but it still served its owner faithfully. And what's more, due to the hunter's laid-back nature, the rifle had more successful shots. It wasn't so in youth, when the blood was screaming and the adrenaline was pounding in the temples.
Angel was a large hummingbird and a very hardworking man. The work had cracked his hands and made them stiff. He was 80 years old, but he did not give up yet, despite the pain in his knees and the weight of the years. And he could still pick up a few horned cows from the meadows where they grazed during the day. The old man's friend and helper was a large Karakachan dog, Murad. He was not used to seeing people, but rather guarded against predators and often accompanied the cows through their pastures. He was a good guard. When he barked, his voice it floated from bair to bair and heralded the alarm. But so far the big dog had chased away all the uninvited guests. The old hummingbird had the most faith in this dog. In the morning he drove the herd and Murad galloped around the slowly approaching cows. Angel was calm and did his other chores the fields, the orchard or his household chores. Murad was at his post. From the nearby meadows could be heard the magical sound of the rattles with which the cows were tied. This sound gradually receded and died away in the width of the Balkan meadows.
There was one incident that Angel remembered, but had not shared with anyone. Only the mountain weasels knew about it... but they were even more silent...

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