Someone told me at the beginning of my 365 project, in the depths of winter, that the secret of photography was to think of the light. And I have. Obsessively. I have begun to notice the evening sun leaving a golden trail across the kitchen and as it moves across our bedroom, lighting up my books as it does. Of course the sun has burnt for billions of years and will continue to do so, but I have never noticed the pictures it paints before. My obsession with natural light has rubbed off on our children. Often while we are walking together, Miles will stop and when I ask him why, he will respond that that there is “golden light”. He is usually right and I will run to get the camera. Ella and her best friend shrieked for me during a sleepover last week, to watch the dancing, dappled shadow of a tree on the wall in the hall. The evening before Ella left for a week of sailing, we headed to the Thames and she pointed out this shadow on a staircase. If you look carefully, as a friend pointed out, there is a dove made of light between our shadows.