My first night in England turned out to be in across the border into Wales. A village known as Gresford. I went for a walk to explore this new place as the sun was going down.  I walked past a pub and took a right toward the steeple I saw on the horizon. I was attracted by the bells of the  impressive old church that chimed and beckoned me to walk through the ancient cemetery that led to the church. Birds of all kinds were settling in for the night by singing out to their mates. One song very was close to me but I couldn’t see the bird. It was  loud, incredibly beautiful and unknown to me. My thoughts went to the recent short story by Oscar Wilde, The Nightingale and the Rose which I read on the plane over here. I kept walking and walking anxious to see what was around each corner….what was around the bend. I had hoped to get some sketching in but the night turned dark eliminating details. Plus, I was walking. Hard to draw when you are walking. So I sat on a stone bench across the street from the pub and looked around for something appealing. I liked the way the light lit up a row of houses. I got my small watercolor pad and a fine permanent marker out and began to draw the scene. I worked on it diligently for a spell before realizing the temperature had gone down and I was cold. I went back to my cousin’s house and worked on the drawing some more. I was inspired to paint it so I stayed up late working with my watercolors until I was happy with it.