The Red Barn

I grew up on a farm, and spent many Saturdays and Sundays working in the fields. It was not the farm in this picture, but this picture in many ways reminds me of my childhood. We raised beef cattle, and tobbaco. We had one bull that seemed to get out every night when my brother and I were eating dinner. This particular bull was very stubburn, and he had a thing for the neighbor's female cows. So, we would get him fenced in, and we would get a call saying, "your bull is over here visiting again. My brother, father, and I would drive the bull (chase) through thickets, briars, weeds, and thickets. One time my father and I both lost Bucth the bull.

My father was very creative in some of the names that he called me and the bull. So we went back to our farm defeated. When we were walking back, my younger brother had gotten the bull back by himself and gotten Butch into the barn.

Farming does not leave a very good memory in my mind. If I were to try and turn it around today and make something good out of it, I would say that it made me tough enough to withstand some of the storms I have withstood in my life. I am like that red barn.

Even though it may appear that my paint is fading, my timber is still strong and I am still standing. I have wisdom and I am a survivor. My roof may be silver, but I still have some fire left inside, and I can still kick and stomp a little too.

Go out and find your barn, and put some fire in it today.
Peace