Rosamond Lehmann, The weather in the streets (1936):
Out of the station, through gradually thinning fog-banks, away from London. Lentil, saffron, fawn were left behind. A grubby jaeger shroud lay over the first suburbs; but then woollen day clarified, and hoardings, factory-buildings, the canal with its barges, the white-boled orchards, the cattle and willows and flat green fields loomed secretively, enclosed within a transparency like drenched indigo muslin. The sky’s amorphous material began to quilt, then to split, to shred away; here and there a ghost of blue breathed in the vaporous upper rifts, and the air stood flused with a luminous essence, a soft indirect suffusion from the yet undeclared sun. It would be fine. My favourite weather.
Great writing, isn’t it? One thing I love about copying up quotes is that you see things you didn’t see, racing along with the story the first time. I would claim that this is a specifically southern English description.
The picture is of Dorset, further west, at the end of the autumn before last, and the green fields aren’t flat, but maybe the light has something to do with Lehmann’s.