I was really something, still am in some ways. I’m made of oak timbers that have weathered all the storms the prairie could throw at me. My silo stands steadfast at my side. Between us we can house the animals feed them, keep them out of the elements, provide storage for hay, machinery and other “stuff”. I’m on in my years now, but as I look out I see green grass, the same kind that used to fill me with hay. I see clouds that may bring some water, but hopefully not much wind. I don’t like the wind as much as I used to.