Twenty-eight Degrees Oil Painting

My car's thermometer registered twenty-eight degrees, but I was determined to paint plein air--I loaded up my palette and gear, bundled up and drove down to the beaver pond to paint. I pulled the ear flaps of my Tilley hat down and trundled over a snow bank to this spot.

Two-thirds of the way into the painting, my hands had become so numb from the cold I had to take a break. Getting in the car, I took my gloves off and warmed my hands with my breath, lots of massage and clapping, then put the gloves back on to continue painting. By the time I finished both my hands and feet were completely numb, so I deemed it prudent to pack up and go back to the house. It was a bit after noon and the temperature had risen to a balmy thirty-two. It took an hour and lots of hot tea and soup for my hands and feet to thaw out completely.