Our back garden is rather small, and west-facing (if a pit surrounded by high trees and walls can be described as "facing" any particular direction), so is only penetrated by sunlight at certain times on certain days, like one of those Megalithic structures on the Orkneys. More often, as this morning, it can be seen blazing over the roof from the east, illuminating the copse beyond our wall.
I quite often gaze at this spectacle absent-mindedly out of the kitchen window as I brew a first pot of tea. This morning, however, the combination of a slight frost in the garden and the warm beams beyond the wall seemed quite enticing, so I actually opened the back door, and ventured out in the garden half-dressed and with flip-flops on bare feet. This is as far as I generally go in the direction of suffering for my art. I leave it to others to cover the Antarctic and Alaska. You'd need to put your socks on for that, I reckon.
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