Windmills

If you walk a minute to the right, then two minutes to the right again, and take a left, you'll see a walking path to Streefkerk. Kevin dropped us off at the beginning of it one afternoon this week. I was not terribly enthused by the idea of walking to the next village, but he convinced me to try, and I'm so glad I did.

We walked in the sunrise glow of mid-afternoon, through the fields, over a few bridges, 

 

and past a working windmill. 

The windmills initially pumped the water off the land so that it would be dry enough for farms. Now, I hear, all the necessary pumping is done by big electric pumps in Kinderdyk.  People who live in the windmills don't have to run them if they do not wish to.

Oma, who has a multi-windmill view from her dining room window, tells me that for years, the 'molens' (windmills) were neglected and empty, but now people have fixed them up and live in them. 

It makes me think of our lighthouses. Of course, we still have lots of land to spare; Holland doesn't.

The children ran on ahead. In the canals on both sides of the road, we saw ducks, and swans, both of which this land has in abundance. The blades of the windmill whooshed around. A man wearing wooden shoes cut the marsh grasses with a scythe on a long wooden pole.  He glanced up as we passed, but didn't greet us. 

Such tourists; taking pictures of his house!

 

As we appproached the next village where Kevin and KE were waiting, we saw a row of houses facing us over a wider canal. They had boats tied up in their back yards, and lovely gardens. "Look; aren't they nice?" I asked K.

She nodded. "I've always wanted to live in a house beside the water;" she said.
"Always?" I repeated.
"Yes," she said. "So I can watch the ducks."