Wolf Worm

The clear weather seemed to be sticking around and I seized the opportunity to work on the balcony.

It was a beautiful workspace. Seated at the table, all I could see were tree branches and a sea of leaves, which rustled and sighed and shifted like women rearranging green petticoats.

The overhanging roof kept direct sun at bay for most of the day but it was bright and open and airy.

Sadly, the improved light made me stare at my current illustration—Nicrophorus marginatus, the margined burying beetle—and realize that all the colors were much too bright, the shell was more blue than black, and that I was an utter fraud at all forms of artistic endeavor.