In the Middle of the Street

I grew up in an orange rust color house that as everything changed color depending on the kind and amount of light that hit it. I have one vivid memory of going outside just before a large thunderstorm and looking at my house. The sky was red yellow and by projecting itself on my house, it was turned into a glowing orange color. There were strong hints of black and grey reflecting off its tall walls. I remember thinking that it looked so eerie, that it no longer looked like my house just because it no longer had the same color.