Winter Sunbathing

I'm beginning to feel guilty about enjoying this weather so much. I'm appearing as the harbinger of doom as I insist on warning people that there will be a price to pay down the line. There is absolutely no doubt that there is more energy in the atmosphere. Extreme weather patterns are starting to become quite normal. Sadly, in many parts of the world, they are not as beneficently benign as this one. 

I had an experience on the bike a few days ago which was akin to that when I've gone for a winter break in Spain or the Canaries. There is an instinctive expectation of what the temperature should be at this time of year. It came as a shock - a thoroughly pleasant one - when the unseasonal warmth hit me and I had to adjust to a new reality. Next week is likely to bring the other side of the coin. I'm preparing for the flight home back to the chilly normality of Yorkshire in March.

Today's experience was like that which I've enjoyed many times in the high mountains in summer, when the temperature drops sharply at night but quickly rises again when the sun hits the tops. I set off in the shade, in cold air, taking pictures of ice-encrusted fronds of fern. An hour later I was walking with my shirt off. 

I'm getting better and better at listening to my body. It was telling me to take it very easy today, reminding me with the odd random pain so that I couldn't ignore its voice. It was a day to try and stay in the moment, no need to go far or do anything special. I took my notebook to a favourite secluded corner of the garden and wrote until the sun dropped to the point where the temperature began its plunge back to normal levels. 

It proved to be the warmest winter's day here in recorded history.