A tentative start. The mist comes in from the coast and envelops the site. It is thick and I can barely see other side of the Upper Workshop area where I am working. White fog billows up through the gully that leads down to the coastal path, and it feels like I am inside a cloud. There is a fierce energy which I conscioulsy attempt to put into the carving. Also a sense of the theatrical, as if someone has turned on a smoke machine. It is eerie and few visitors pass by. The sound of my chisel on the stone rings out into the blinding white. As the fog eventually lifts, the sun feebly attempts to pierce the blanket of cloud that has covered the sky since I arrived. My fingers are numb.