The Old Red Barn and I

The first time I painted the old red barn I was twenty years old and the skies were blue. There it sat in the middle of the hay field Waiting to be immortalized on canvas. The second time I painted the old red barn I was thirty-nine and my life was in turbulence. The fall thunderclouds predominated the picture. The hayfield almost orange with the coming sunset. The last time I took my easel to the field The barn had faded to a dusty rose colour, But the skies were blue and the clouds were fluffy. The hay waved joyously in the breeze. The barn and I had both aged and faded with time But we were still blessed with the sun shining on the hay.