The small, rustling sounds of pencil on paper, the scratching you can hardly notice during the day is magnified in the moonlit silence at 3am. I anticipate this and roll over ever so gently, avoiding waking my incredibly patient husband whose snuffling breaths rhythmic. I wish I were sleeping soundly as he is.
But I'm laying here, wide awake, dreaming up new designs. I reach for the pencil and tablet I keep on the bedside table for moments like this, and hold my breath, hoping I can write ever so gently, and avoid waking Russell.
This is my time of inspiration and often my best ideas come in the middle of the night like this.
Whether it's nostalgic fashion for a mug with a pincushion tucked in or chrysanthemums on a lamp or leaping bunnies for cards, my dreams seem to be peppered with ideas and I am awakened with a flash of inspiration which just has to be recorded with a scratchy-sounding pencil on my wee little tablet, so the plan won't vanish when daylight comes.
In the morning, my husband will find my chicken scratching on stray sheets of paper littering the bedroom floor. He will smile and shake his head.
"My creative wife," he'll mutter, "She's even drawing in the dark." We creative types are definitely hard to understand sometimes.
For now I reach for the pencil and note "mums overall... vary scale... plum on vellum..." I just love those middle of the night ideas and the pencil and paper laying by a good book. How lovely to make your passion your job.
