I grew up amidst a small, tidy farm in central Illinois. The colors that primarily swirl in my memory are the greenness that stretched in acres of corn or soybeans on every side, or the grass that could only be truly experienced through one’s toes. The affectionately flaking bright red of the barn stands tall in my mind, along with the mottled red of the apple trees. And there’s the white of our ancient farmhouse trimmed neatly with black shutters.