It's twenty past five in the evening, I have been stitching butterfly scales across the hind wing of a Camberwell Beauty butterfly all afternoon, now the tiny stitches have merged into shadow; receded into the shade of tired eyes no longer bright enough to focus attention.
As day light fades my energy inevitably ebbs; like a songbird I feel compelled to abandon my studio perch and seek a more homey nesting place. This evening however, though darkness has fallen, I can still hear songbirds; beautiful, bright, lyrical notes striking the heartstrings of Spring. Rain is pattering hypnotically on my studio roof... roosting calls echo from the rookery in the ancient woods in a reassuringly ancient way.
There is perhaps nothing more beautiful than the meditation of peace and quiet, unlike silence it holds gentle phrases and whispered promises. I think I'll rest here a while before I go in, my eyes may be tired but my ears are wide awake!