Pursuing the poetical.
There is a place somewhere along the route we take to Pennsylvania where the hillside is dotted with these wind mills. I find them strangely beautiful from a distance, and such a contrast to the fields below being farmed as they have for generations, by hand and hard work and machinery that hasn't changed much over the years.
Amen to that, Kathleen. Stopping by to wish you a sweet holiday. As we enter Advent, I know you and your tender heart will be there. Bless you, sweet friend.
This is a fun one. And just peacefully lovely as well.
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