We here at the bunker often talk about the hobby butterfly. Like the butterfly we are drawn, powerfully and inextricably toward something beautiful and all consuming. It takes over our hobby desire so completely. We throw ourselves into that project and immerse ourselves in its beautiful nectar. For a short while. Until we catch the alluring scent of the next bloom and we find ourselves floating towards that next shiny thing. So then what happens to all those forgotten flowers? All those neglected blooms? All those undercoated Orks? They sit on shelves, or packed into cardboard boxes stuffed under the stairs. They slowly gather dust, hoping for the day when they will feel the sweet caress of a brush and given their time in the sun. When all at once I saw a crowd, A host, of golden daffodils I’m certain, if you are anything like me, this will be a familiar story. You will have those projects that started with such zeal only to wither and dry out like daffodils left on th...