Now and Again

Now and again you come across a piece of prose that just catches you with its imagery. Even at 30,000ft and with a long day ahead you're spellbound.
When you first set out there were still heavy horses pulling the ploughs but before long they were all but gone, and chugging tractors slogged their way across the patterned fields, between drystane dykes and hedgerows and fences and strands of trees, and white plumes of gulls followed the tractors by day, and black parliaments of crows convened in the trees as night fell.
James Robertson. And the Land Lay Still.