We are looking at the history of one person's work, or several. They would excuse themselves from their daily chores, talk about painting the shack. Or maybe they were sullen and never spoke of it, and family members knew to give them space because they hated painting the shack. They went to the same paint store, probably. And bitched when their favorite brand was no longer made. There was a moment of pride, regardless of how they perceived their finished work, where they stood back and were maybe relieved the job was done. They may have taken care of their brushes, or maybe not. They might have done it at the start of spring, or towards the end of summer. There may have been times when their work was interrupted, for frivolous things, like stopping for lunch or inclement weather. Or worse things, the death of someone close to them.

In any event, we are seeing that time spent, all of us. And it should be a reminder that our time here is fleeting, and we should make the most of it.