I could spend ages watching dragonflies. From a distance they looked so delicate, but up close their wings revealed an incredible network of tiny shapes and lines that seemed to catch every change in the light.

The more I looked at dragonfly wings, the more I noticed how much they reminded me of flower petals. Nature has a wonderful way of repeating shapes in unexpected places.

Our garden pond was home to a handful of shubunkins. Everyone who visited thought they were expensive koi, but in our house they were affectionately known as the little imposters. I loved watching them weave through the reflections beneath the water.

On warm summer afternoons the pond seemed alive with dragonflies. They never stayed still for long, hovering, darting and dancing through the sunlight before disappearing again.

I don't think I ever saw dragonflies as insects. To me they were tiny magical visitors that arrived on warm summer afternoons, dancing above the pond before disappearing again. In my imagination, their delicate wings were left floating behind like little pieces of light carried on the breeze.

By late spring the irises around our pond had grown so tall they almost hid the water completely. Sitting on the little bench, I felt as though I'd discovered a secret garden all of my own. Their blooms would peek through the leaves like happy little faces, quietly watching over my favourite place in the garden

Early in the morning, tiny droplets clung to every stem and leaf around the pond. They only lasted a short while, but for those few moments everything sparkled.