hatched

or whatever it's called when a dragonfly bursts out of this and flies off.

Humans may look at our pond and tell us all about what we have done wrong (while I yawn and feel bored because I really don't care) but when a dragonfly looks at our pond s/he thinks (translated into human) "this is perfect, just what I've been looking for" and, to be honest, I care more about that. Every year we live here, our garden gets a bit less of a square of flatness with plants in rows and more into the kind of place that nature enjoys - we have more insects, more birds, hedgehogs, frogs and probably other stuff that hides from me so I don't know about and every year it gets more and more. We also, of course, have lots of slugs and ants and things that humans don't like so much, but we're working on a compromise with them and one day, we'll sign a peace-treaty and I'll stop the genocide and they will stop eating my plants and invading my kitchen.