Windmills have always fascinated me. I have many memories of these tall pillars that would pump water from the ground to give life to people, animals, and vegetation. The feel of the wooden handle worn smooth from many touches. The bottom of the handle was usually still rough and splintery.
Grandma & Grandpa Kinney had a storage tank that sat on a metal platform that I climbed on, dreamed of being an acrobat in the circus , & spent many hours on with my cousins Cindy & Mike. It seemed so tall, I wonder if it really was. I'm scared of heights now, so I guess it's a good thing I didn't run away & join the circus.
I don't remember this, but Mama and Daddy do. When we moved to Windthorst, I was around 2 years old. Mama was hanging the washing out on the clothesline and missed me. She found me climbing up the windmill. She climbed up after me telling me all the way not to let go & carried me back down to safety. Daddy cut the bottom steps off the ladder so I wouldn't be able to do that again.
This has been a lifelong job for them, protecting me & carrying me to safety as they have always been there for me in every aspect of my life. I love you both!
On a lighter note, Daddy wrote a song when he was around 10 years old about windmills. It never made the hit charts, but maybe someone will see it on this blog & become a star.
"Blow windmill blow.
Pump them cows some stock water."