The garden was dyed violet and blue as summer’s bloom was full and radiant. The butterflies fluttered from flower to flower, filling the air with shimmering waves whilst the ancient willow’s long branches were carried back and forth gently by the breeze. He sat in the centre of the garden, encased by the stoned walls that kept it hidden and safe. His straw hat created a crosshatched shadow over his eyes and he assumed a relaxed yet focused posture on his small wooden stool. Along the walls, stone griffins peered down from the mantle watch towers, guarding the garden’s purity and magic. He was fond of the statues’ company and he felt secure under their sentry as he painted. On his canvas, he traced his strokes thoughtfully, capturing the detail and the subtleties of this mysterious place, its character and vigour shown in the textures and balance. At the setting of the sun, when the light was fading, he slowly packed away his paints and left the griffins to guard over the garden in the silence of the night.