Once a Generation

A Cuckoo Marans rooster with smooth dark slate-grey plumage in a pale khaki cotton drill jacket over a white shirt and a wide-brimmed straw hat, seated upright like a gentleman on a low folding wooden camp stool, his scaled grey rooster legs reaching to the ground, among broad-petalled magenta desert wildflowers covering a slope in the Atacama Desert at noon, bare brown mountains and a cloudless deep-blue sky behind

Pink as Far as Copiapó

It rains here perhaps once a generation, and when it does the hills go pink for a month. He drove up from the coast to sit in the middle of it with his hat on and nowhere else to be until it fades.

26 September 2026