On the other side of a weathered barn, smoke billowed from a farmhouse chimney.

There was a pale green glow hovering around the farmhouse chimney.

She had no idea where they were, and there was no sign of any habitation, not even a thin stream of smoke rising from some far-off farmhouse chimney.

Smoke made feathery gray plumes above farmhouse chimneys, goodwives doing the morning's baking, by the smell.

Strangely there was no one in sight, no smoke rising from the farmhouse chimneys beyond the fields.

A thin thread of smoke rose from a farmhouse chimney, fixed in the still air.

IF you have lived in country far enough north to experience real seasons, you know that late autumn is when cold fronts barge in from Canada, blue smoke plumes from farmhouse chimneys, and terrified 600-pound deer leap out of hedgerows and onto the hood of your car.

Wood smoke rose from farmhouse chimneys, the yards and fences neatly kept.

Smoke rose from farmhouse chimneys and flattened out to the east.