In Day One: Evening, Stevens finally decides to walk up the footpath suggested by the stranger. He describes what he sees at the top with imagery:
What I saw was principally field upon field rolling off into the far distance. The land rose and fell gently, and the fields were bordered by hedges and trees. There were dots in some of the distant fields which I assumed to be sheep. To my right, almost on the horizon, I thought I could see the square tower of a church.
The reader may notice that Stevens's imagery matches his temperament in certain ways: it's unadorned and precisely factual. Rather than use metaphorical language or dwell at length on the scenery, he establishes as full an image as possible in very few words by describing things like the light, the buildings he sees, the flora, and the weather. A reader might compare his descriptive style to a painting done in the style of realism. He tries to avoid editorializing and emotion in these descriptions, but clearly the English landscape provokes sentiment in him, as it often causes him to recall a memory or dwell on a philosophical question. As is true of most of the landscapes described in The Remains of the Day, this landscape is peaceful. However, its largeness and relative lack of people might also make readers feel lonely on Stevens's behalf. The sole building is so far away that Stevens can't say with any certainty what it is.
When Stevens wakes early on the second day of his journey, he describes the quiet dawn with sonic and visual imagery:
When I parted [the curtains] just a moment ago, the light outside was still very pale and something of a mist was affecting my view of the baker’s shop and chemist’s opposite. Indeed, following the street further along to where it runs over the little round-backed bridge, I could see the mist rising from the river, obscuring almost entirely one of the bridge-posts. There was not a soul to be seen, and apart from a hammering noise echoing from somewhere distant, and an occasional coughing in a room to the back of the house, there is still no sound to be heard.
This view from the window of an inn is not as remarkable as some of the other landscapes Stevens sees during his journey, but he nevertheless describes it with his usual precise imagery. He describes the charmingly small town, complete with a round-backed bridge, and then describes the few hushed sounds he hears: a hammer, and a guest in the inn coughing. The mist and quiet noises make the moment feel isolated and calm. Readers might feel Stevens enjoys his solitude at this moment, or they might think his emphasis on the lack of people outside is indicative of his desire to see, and connect with, others.
In Day Two: Morning, as a result of Miss Kenton's letter, Stevens reflects on the memory of his father's illness and demotion. He brings the reader vividly into the flashback with visual imagery that especially focuses on sunlight and shadows.
I can recall distinctly climbing to the second landing and seeing before me a series of orange shafts from the sunset breaking the gloom of the corridor where each bedroom door stood ajar. And as I made my way past those bedrooms, I had seen through a doorway Miss Kenton’s figure, silhouetted against a window, turn and call softly: ‘Mr Stevens, if you have a moment.’ As I entered, Miss Kenton had turned back to the window. Down below, the shadows of the poplars were falling across the lawn.
First, note that it's evening, a time of day with significant symbolic implications throughout the novel. Although those implications aren't drawn out until the book's conclusion, readers can nevertheless connect the final scene of the novel to earlier scenes. Ishiguro emphasizes the time of day by describing the long shadows, the orange light, and the darkness throughout the rest of the house. Perhaps the reason it's evening here—besides that time of day generating beautiful imagery—is because Stevens's father is coming to the end of his career. He may or may not know this, and he might try to prevent it, but this end will happen all the same.
Readers might also notice the times when Stevens sees Miss Kenton not clearly or entirely, but instead as a silhouette, a figure, or a shadow. He also sometimes only knows Miss Kenton is present somewhere because of a light on in her room, or because of her footsteps. Reasonable readers could differ on the significance of this, or whether it has significance at all. Plausible interpretations might link this motif to Stevens's unwillingness to form a closer connection with the housekeeper.
In Day Two: Morning, Stevens drives slowly to Salisbury. He stops nearby because a chicken is crossing the road and won't make way for his car. He describes this incident with charming imagery and a touch of personification.
The land had become very open and flat at that point, enabling one to see a considerable distance in all directions, and the spire of Salisbury Cathedral had become visible on the skyline up ahead. […] I saw only just in time a hen crossing my path in the most leisurely manner. I brought the Ford to a halt only a foot or two from the fowl, which in turn ceased its journey […] When after a moment it had not moved, I resorted to the car horn, but this had no effect other than to make the creature commence pecking at something on the ground.
Stevens's deliberate and slow pace has yet another benefit: he won't run over any loose chickens. He admires the English landscape once more and looks from a distance at the cathedral and the horizon, describing both with his usual clean imagery. However, the chicken (which is just as much a part of the English landscape) is only visible from up close. Stevens makes the personified hen sound as if it's on vacation, or doesn't have a worry in the world—he says it "[crossed] my path in the most leisurely manner." He also calls its escape a "journey." Once again, his formal tone and the humorous situation he finds himself in are juxtaposed to comedic effect.
In Day Two: Morning, Stevens describes one of his memories of serving dinner to Lord Darlington and another guest. The flashback is described with mildly ominous visual and sonic imagery:
Much of the room was in darkness, and the two gentlemen were sitting side by side midway down the table – it being much too broad to allow them to sit facing one another – within the pool of light cast by the candles on the table and the crackling hearth opposite. I decided to minimize my presence by standing in the shadows much further away […] Of course, this strategy had a distinct disadvantage in that each time I moved towards the light to serve the gentlemen, my advancing footsteps would echo long and loud before I reached the table […]
Stevens explains that for some reason, the more intimate dining room, which would normally be used for a dinner of only two, was not available that day. As a result, Darlington and his guest had to sit in a much larger dining room, at an excessively large table. Candles and the fire cast a "pool of light," but the rest of the room is in shadows. Stevens, trying as always to be thoughtful, stands back in the shadows to make the men feel as if they're not being watched. But if the visual imagery wasn't dark enough, Stevens also adds the sonic imagery: his own footsteps echoing toward the table as he approaches. It reads like an unsettling dining experience. Perhaps that mood is appropriate because Darlington spends much of the dinner dejectedly talking about the economic ruin in Germany. In fact, it's Darlington's sympathy for the Germans that leads him to take up their cause, trust their leaders, and ultimately fall from grace when people begin to associate him with the Nazis.
In Day Two: Afternoon, Stevens uses imagery to describe the pond that the former "batman" (a servant assigned to a military official) suggested he visit.
The pond is not a large one – a quarter of a mile around its perimeter perhaps – so that by stepping out to any promontory, one can command a view of its entirety. An atmosphere of great calm pervades here. Trees have been planted all around the water just closely enough to give a pleasant shade to the banks, while here and there clusters of tall reeds and bulrushes break the water’s surface and its still reflection of the sky.
This is one of many careful, concise, and un-metaphorical visual descriptions that Stevens fills his account with. His exploration of the English landscape is spurred largely by either coincidence or by the advice of friendly strangers, like this servant. Stevens earlier claimed that England's natural beauty is not ostentatious, but instead self-assured and subtle. Accordingly, this pond is "not a large one," but its size allows Stevens to see the entire body of water and the fishermen enjoying it. The water is still, and foliage decorates the banks. Just as Stevens has his own favorite spots and views from the windows of Darlington Hall, so too does this retired "batman" know his own slice of England, and he wants to share it with travelers like Stevens.
In Day Three: Evening, Stevens's car runs out of fuel (petrol, as he calls it in his British dialect), and he explores the area on foot. He describes the beautiful but desolate English landscape around him with visual imagery:
On the other side of the gate a field sloped down very steeply so that it fell out of vision only twenty yards or so in front of me. Beyond the crest of the field, some way off in the distance – perhaps a good mile or so as the crow would fly – was a small village. I could make out through the mist a church steeple, and around about it, clusters of dark-slated roofs; here and there, wisps of white smoke were rising from chimneys.
First, it's worth noting that "as the crow flies" is an English-language idiom that has spread to both sides of the Atlantic. It means the speaker indicates the shortest distance between two places on a map, rather than the actual distance a walker or driver would have to take. A crow doesn't need to follow paths or account for terrain, but simply flies from one location to the next in a straight line.
Once again, Stevens describes the subdued but lovely landscape he encounters. The land falls off so steeply that it looks like he's peering off a cliff, and further away the field rises up again. Then he sees a mist-covered village.
It was not a happy feeling to be up there on a lonely hill, looking over a gate at the lights coming on in a distant village, the daylight all but faded, and the mist growing ever thicker.
This time, similar imagery is used to a despondent effect as Stevens contemplates the encroaching night. Note the similarities between this passage and one in Day Six: Evening, when Stevens watches the lights go up on the dock during the evening. During this scene, the sun is also setting, and this sight causes Stevens considerable apprehension. By the time the final chapter rolls around, Stevens has made his peace with the metaphorical end of the day (the final years of his life) and does not feel concern at its approaching. Of course, this scene offers no indication that evenings will later serve a larger symbolic purpose at the end of the novel, but it offers a kind of foreshadowing for that later significance, especially because Stevens has spent the novel thinking about his past and legacy.