Vincent van Gogh The Red Vineyard

Vincent van Gogh The Red VineyardVincent van Gogh The potato eatersVincent van Gogh The Bedroom at Arles
THE SKY? said Bill Door, surprised at the sudden excitement. ‘Come on!’ She whirled back into the kitchen and scrabbled on the dresser for a candle lantern and some matches.
BUT YOU of the smithy.
Ned Simnel pumped the furnace bellows until the heart of the coals was white with the merest hint of yellow.
It had been a good day. The Combination Harvester had worked better than he’d dared to hope; old Peedbury had insisted on keeping it to do another field tomorrow, so it had been left out with a tarpaulin over it, securely tied down. Tomorrow he could teach one of the men to use it, and start work on a new improved SAID IT WOULD DRY.‘In a normal storm, yes. In this lot? It’s going to be ruined! We’ll find it spread all over the hill in the morning!’She fumbled the candle alight and ran back again. Bill Door looked out into the storm. Straws whirred past, tumbling on the gale.RUINED? MY HARVEST? He straightened up. BUGGER THAT.The hail rumbled on the roof