I remember

I remember when windmills were more than just towering structures on the horizon. They were beautiful, aesthetic, and seamlessly integrated into the landscape. Back then, windmills did more than harness the wind; they crushed grain into flour, playing a vital role in the rhythm of rural life. Their sails turned gracefully, each rotation weaving a tale of tradition and sustenance.

As a child, I’d watch them from afar, mesmerized by their gentle dance against the azure sky. Farmers would gather, bags of grain in tow, awaiting their turn to transform wheat into the flour that would nourish families and communities. These majestic figures stood as sentinels of history, whispering stories of simpler times.

In today's fast-paced world, it’s easy to forget the windmills of old. But I cherish these memories, these echoes of the past, reminding us of an era where beauty, functionality, and community flourished in perfect harmony.