Busy old fool, unruly Sun,
Why dost thou thus,
Through windows, and through curtains call on us?
Must to thy motions lovers' seasons run?

The Sun Rising
Donne, 1571-1631

If Sun was an old man, this would be his psoriatic scalp. The little white flakes of skin past, pin pricks spanning hundreds of kilometres are this olde-fogeyish gent's most magnetic loci. Our sweet lodestone.

Photo taken September 2007 using the Swedish Solar Telescope on the astronomical island of La Palma in the Canary Islands