I give a blank canvas its colour and hue, or give an old wooden fence a coat that looks new.

One syllable, five letters long, I am where the heat belongs. I flicker, I flutter, I never stay still. Say my name?

In patterns of lace, my weave does flow, A catcher's charm, where waters do show. With threads so thin, by the shore I wait, A fisher's delight, when the hour's late.

I can turn a plain potato into something divine, melt me on top and I’ll disappear in no time.

The Natural History is preserved here.