A colourful sunset follows a drab day on the rural outskirts of Sheffield.
Image Credit: Photograph by Carey Davies
The window of my room here looks south-west, over the rooftops of a Sheffield suburb draped over the foothills of the Pennines, and through it I watch the endless traffic of the sky all day; the fleets of clouds steaming past on their journey from coast to coast, the planes etching contrails that wobble tipsily in the winds.
Recently, the sky has seemed muted, in the way it often does when the light is at its leanest and the weather settles for grey neutrality.
But a marvel of midwinter is how even the most austere, threadbare days can give rise to the most lavish of sunsets.
At this time of year, the sun sets directly before the window, often inducing me to leave my desk and walk a few streets to where, in that typically Sheffield way, the city abruptly terminates, and clean-scrubbed streets of bungalows give way instantly to expanses of high-raised farmland.