Oh windmill, windmill, up on high: the matter of windmills

Windmill_ SouthCoast Today

By Don Quixote, Knight

From my time tussling with windmills, those greatest of foul beasts and terrors of the night and day and mid-afternoon and evening and slightly before evening and twilight and breakfast and after breakfast, not to mention mid-morning relievings…

Anyways, windmills! I come to the kingdom of Dartmouth, to its castle known as UMass. I offer my services to any lord, only to find none around.

No, the people here live in fear, in fear of a gigantic creature that lived on high and far away, that groaned and creaked in the air.

It roared its terror down and groaned its might, creaking the terrible metal arms of its flailing body around in the air. What a sight to behold, I said to myself. I have fought many of such creatures, and from whence I hear, it is probably a wind mill!

Nevertheless, I turned the corner from a derelict amphitheater to find the beast towering hundreds of feet into the air! Setting aside my recently pillag-I mean, purchased bacon, egg, and cheese breakfast sandwich, the most sacred and knightly of meals, I stirred my ride, and prepared to charge.

I had availed myself of…was loaned a steed, from a rather generous, if strangely reticent, peasant.

It was called a Honda, if I’m not mistaken, and roared to life with me kicking the pad-stirrup. The mighty steed leapt forward with such power I quickly collided with the windmill itself.

But alas, I could see this monstrosity up close.  It seemed a red sickness, much like a pox but more orangey, with a bit of groaning to be heard from the areas where the spongey pox-like substance…that now reminded me more of algae seen on boats.

Maybe it wasn’t a pox at all. It seemed like a rust, now that I noticed. And windmills typically had more energy, more vigor of such a brave and outstanding foe.

This one seemed rather listless and small, perhaps less terrifying from when I first beheld it.

Another groan sounded over me, followed quickly by more creaking as the windmill began to turn. As I walked around the site, passing the wreckage of my ruined steed, I observed the winds “Made in China” on the side.

Ah yes, the land of China. I had fought many a windmill, and most seemed to come from this great kingdom. But this one seemed sad, still, forlorn, alone. Perhaps this kingdom had not cared about this one, or left it alone.

Now I am a knight, and I have slain many windmills. This gives me some knowledge of windmills, and it is suffice to say this was one was no match.

It’s arms hung there, useless, destitute. The center of it’s eye, the spinning movement, barely moved and showed no signs of aggression.

Perhaps this kingdom could use another windmill. Yes, that was it. I decided to write this letter to the editor, recounting my experiences above to name the account of your windmill, what seemed a most valiant defender of your land.

Having talked with many of your peasants, many of you seemed to have an odd fondness for this foul beast, even in its decrepit condition.

You talked of “electricity” and the “Internet,” foreign words I have not heard of but spoken in a warm tone.

Your people spoke of recycling and caring for the land, of warmth and heat and good food, and those things I understood, though. Perhaps, if this windmill did indeed provide those things, then maybe it was good.

Wait…did I just say windmills are good? Me? Don Quixote? No! I cannot! I must vanguish this beast at once!

Ah, but remembering the faces of these peasants upon regarding the pains of their friend…

Maybe I should spare it this once…

But, good kingdom, hear this-you should give time and good metal to your mill, if you love it so. Know that Don Quixote, decreed windmill slayer, says so!

Photo Courtesy: A camera?

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