A little spring sunshine called me outside with a drawing book.

Around 4.00pm I sat on a seat in the middle of Standen woods, as I looked up, a pigeon flew over the wood.

In the quiet wood, it was an event, a pigeon flew over, then it was quiet and still again.  

I sat on the bench with a pencil and a book and mused on the pigeon flying over the wood.

As I watched, no more events occurred after the pigeon's flight.

So I drew retrospectively 'the flight of a pigeon over a wood'