Monday morning. Sounds of the broom seed pods popping in the sun, the smell of ripening blackberries in the air. The shift of the seasons has begun. I am back by the pond, a place I have not visited since early Spring. I sit down and get out my drawing paper and suddenly this jewel of blue and its compliment of scorching orange flashes in front of my eyes away to the rushes on the island. I am sharing my morning with a kingfisher. It keeps coming back, again and again as if trying to get my attention, and every time I see it my heart leaps. Really it does. The thunder of the traffic not far on the dual carriageway scores the soundtrack against its flight. How utterly beautiful, its blue impossible to describe, and I feel deeply touched by its presence.