Don’t Ask What It’s For. I’ve Already Picked Its Spot.

Oh, great. One look at this butterfly and I'm already rearranging my desk in my head.

It could sit beside the monitor, clipped to the lamp. Daylight through the wings, a little glow after dark. Nothing bright enough to turn the room into a gaming setup. Small base, power cable tucked behind it. I haven't even got the thing, and apparently I've already decided how to hide the wiring.

Edison Science Corner's photograph is dangerously good at starting this sort of thought. Copper-colored shapes cross transparent wings. Fine traces reach little LEDs, and the dark components remain visible in the middle. Zooming in makes me like it more: it actually looks like a circuit board. Cover everything up until it resembles an ordinary plastic butterfly light, and I'd lose half my interest.

Next comes the hunt for files. Is there a board design available? How small are those LEDs? Could I manage them with my soldering iron? Would flux residue look particularly bad on a transparent surface? A photograph of the back would help, too. The front doesn't tell me where everything needed for power would go.

Then I'd have to choose: buy one assembled, or get a bare board and enjoy the fiddly part. I'd probably total up the shipping first, then check the parts drawer for anything usable. Perhaps a different LED color while I'm at it. Somehow a shopping basket for one butterfly would acquire a bag of things that might come in handy someday.

I'd want to try a slow fade, almost like breathing beside the desk. That would mean checking whether the circuit could be adapted; the photograph promises no such effect. Rapid flashing would drive me mad while trying to read.

If I got it working, it might make a lovely present. Though giving it away could be harder than expected. Especially when someone asks, “You made that?” and I get to pretend it was no trouble: “Yeah, just soldered a few LEDs.”

Easy to say. Choosing the color of the base could take me another evening.