The Farm

There is nothing like Golden Hour.

The shadows grow long.

The sun transforms the world into a jeweler’s shop – everything becomes priceless an covered in shimmering gold.

This humble red barn and silo, I must confess, was not discovered by me. It was my dear friend, and fellow painter, Andrea Hart who showed me this diamond in the ruff. This little farm was located by her childhood home in Acton, Massachusetts. She said that she dreamed of painting the spot when she would pass it on her way home from grade school.

The “spot” itself was less than romantic. We were in the weeds on one side of the ditch next to a road. The opening in the weedy-brush for view of the scene was smaller than you would expect – like a secret window one wouldn’t notice unless they were looking.

But when the sun started to set – the tall grass and the bugs for companions on a hot summer night was the last thing on my mind. Sheer wonder and awe filled me when I saw the grass set on fire and the red barn side become blood orange.

I am bias – I love “the farm”. It is a visual of mankind’s harmony and cultivation of nature. God creates the grape. Mankind cultivates it into wine. God creates the grass the the animals. Cultivation sets boundaries, creates pastures, and cares for the livestock.

Thank you God for your Golden Hour. Thank you for cultivation.