Seeing is believing
THE wildflower meadow in front of me is a colourful tangle of daisies, poppies, harebells and creeping thistle. A honeybee forages happily among the petals of a greater knapweed and a buff-tailed bumblebee hones in on a plump red clover flower. Looking more closely, I spot the flamenco wings of a cinnabar moth and, close by, its handsomely ringed gold-and-black caterpillar wriggling up some ragwort, of which it would, no doubt, make short work—if only it could.
Because what I’m looking at is not, in fact, real, but the exquisite handiwork of milliner-turned-flower-maker Anne Tomlin. Working from her garden studio in West Sussex, just
