The colors in her fur are like a mackerel sky.

"Mackerel sky, mackerel sky, not long wet nor not long dry," said a man in a black silk top hat to Tristran and Yvaine.

We stay in the present moment and talk about the mackerel sky and the planes she thinks are birds.

The lilies had died back to the ground; the bark of the crepe myrtles had all peeled away; there was a mackerel sky.

But now they were higher and smaller, settling at last into a mackerel sky like a beach at low tide.