Away at the grange, one side of the haystacks was lit up, the other sides blue-grey.

A waggon of sheaves rocked small across the melting yellow light.
The sun was going down.

Every open evening, the hills of Derbyshire were blazed over with red sunset.

Mrs.Morel watched the sun sink from the glistening sky, leaving a soft flower-blue overhead, while the western space went red, as if all the fire had swum down there, leaving the bell cast flawless blue.

The mountain-ash berries across the field stood fierily out from the dark leaves, for a moment.