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Rising above

A thin rim of mountain about to be obliterated by mist

A thin rim of mountain about to be obliterated by mist

This morning it was brilliantly sunny. The dew was sparkling and the golden leaves swam in a blue sky.

I had to go into the valley on various errands because Clive is due to be admitted to a rehabilitation centre next week, and as I went down I sank deeper and deeper into fog.

On my return home, I broke the ceiling of the fog and popped into the sunshine, like surfacing out of a cold and murky pond.

But almost as soon as I’d parked up, I noticed that the mist was rising. The photo shows the nearest mountain just peeping out before it’s engulfed.

Then the fog reached me where I was. It was like day had turned to night in the blink of an eye. It could have been a different day; a different season. I was very glad of the blazing fire in our stove.

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