as far as the eye can see

Fana knelt down, plunged both arms in the snow, and closed one eye. He waited, chewing on his pipestem and humming quietly, until he spotted a birch twig across the courtyard that was batting to and fro. Like a panther fattened on legless poultry, he sprang across the courtyard, pounced on the twig and heartily embraced the snow beneath it. When he threw himself back on his feet, spraying droplets of melted Russian snow, he was holding his only employee Foma in his left hand and his missing sack of tobacco in his right hand.

"I'll get dinner started," mentioned Foma, as Fana efficiently drop-kicked him into the clear blue winter sky.

"That'd be great, thanks," replied Fana, as his employee descended through the dry tree branches in the distance.