Imagine the barn sill as a sentient thing, aged, with character, wrinkles and lines, just like an older human face. Think of it as weathered, think of the storms it has weathered, the suns it has seen, the stories it has to tell, each line, chip, peel, nail revealing in its own way. If you close your eyes and open them, and use the gift of your imagination, see it as a kind of being, in the winter of its life.