Chasing windmills

I found myself drawn to the countryside today.  Windmills fascinate me.  I yearned to find a long wide shot, perhaps a little video.  I drove east on Highway 12, over the Rio Vista bridge and continuing outside of town.  I had an hour to squander before I needed to be anywhere.

A wholesale lack of daily time commitments sends my disposition spinning.  I don’t like free time.  Dreams, ghosts, and wicked little doubts besiege me if I do not have enough to fill my waking moments.  I push them away.  Stretching for joy appeals to me but not on the roller coaster of chaos.  So I washed my hair, threw clothes on my aching bones and jumped into the RAV.

A sign for Bird’s Landing drew me off the straightway, a wide left turn and into the cleft between slopes.  Eyes darting back and forth, watching for a chance to stop, I moved beyond barns, power lines, and empty steel buildings crouched on the hillside.  I never found the perfect spot; and the road ended at the Montezuma Fire Station, with a sign for Fairfield to the right and Collinsville to the left.  Beyond the sign for Collinsville another one cautioned, No outlet.

I turned left.  I’ve been to Fairfield.

Indeed, the highway ended at a scraggly field beyond which I could see the river.  I considered my options.  A small road led into the field of windmills but the map showed that it, too, had no outlet.  I turned around and headed the way I had come.  The windmills rose above me, some still, some moving just barely in the crisp quiet of the afternoon.

As I made my way back to Highway 12, I came upon a flock of sheep, ewes and lambs, pushing against each other on the roadway.  Two black dogs nipped at their heels.  A man in an ATV led them; one hovered at the rear.  I pulled over and watched them pass, holding my cell phone, holding my breath, nodding to their minders as the mass of bleating babies moved beyond my car.

A few nagging annoyances pushed at my good mood today.  The ghosts; the dreams; the images of windmills which might be giants.  But I have no complaints.



“Let yourself be silently drawn by the strange pull of what you really love.

It will not lead you astray.”

—  Rumi


The Sheep

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