The light was constantly changing and the mist thinned and dispersed, then rolled in once more. The sun gleamed on fragments of limestone up on the ridge as the frost melted fast. Skeletons of winter trees loomed out of the mist, and vanished. It was dazzling walking south with the low sun in my eyes, high humidity steamed up my glasses every few seconds and the cliff edge was rather a blur. All in pursuit of one's art.
Today, the Lyth Valley held its pall of thick white mist that flowed out into Morecambe Bay until the afternoon. The blaze of bright white mist was to the south, toward Morecambe Bay. Looking north, higher up the valley, the mist assumes a bluish hue and fragmented, giving more colour to the scene.