The Red Barn

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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.


Poem by Francine Roberts October 3, 2010 (http://www.poetrysoup.com/poems_poets/poem_detail.aspx?ID=254467)

16 thoughts on “The Red Barn

  1. Our red barns are vanishing, so many of them. Sad. A lot of nostalghia in those words and picture. By the way, this one looks almost Norwegian; the doors are decorated just like here…

    • That is so very interesting Bente. I don’t know the history of this barn. It is in a different area than most of the barns I photograph (which are tobacco barns.) This one looks like its for a different purpose and is considered historical.

      I can’t believe the barns in your area are vanishing. Perhaps soon people will recognize their historical significance and begin preserving them. Thanks Bente!

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