Ingleborough above the clouds

Another mad scramble to get dressed and out of the house before the mist burned off in the sunshine. One day I'll get better at predicting when it will form and I'll be up early and ready. It was astonishing how ephemeral it was today, the mist encircling Arnside Tower Farm vanished before my eyes in a couple of minutes.

Yesterday's Poet, Philosopher and Failure generated some interesting comment. I'm inclined to the view expressed by waipushrink that these were her own words after a life of struggling to get her work printed and recognised. Would a bereaved husband be so unkind as to have such a wording inscribed on his wife's headstone unless he was following her express wishes? I will do some more digging to see if I can get to the bottom of the story.