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in the key of C Major
For the daily prompt thing I'm doing, I ended up going down a rabbit hole about windmill sails and came across this story of a miller who restored the last of what used to be many windmills--"the highest concentration of windmills in the Iberian peninsula"--on a mountain in Portugal. Here he is with his windmill in 2019:
Photo by Maria Rebelo Photography; resized from the image at the blog post
He's using the mill to grind ancient wheat grains; he says ants prefer wheat grains that don't have pesticides.
Oh, and those clay pots hanging on the arms of the windmill? They are each tuned to a note in the key of C Major, and you can hear what they sound like in this soundcloud file.
Photo by Maria Rebelo Photography; resized from the image at the blog post
He's using the mill to grind ancient wheat grains; he says ants prefer wheat grains that don't have pesticides.
Oh, and those clay pots hanging on the arms of the windmill? They are each tuned to a note in the key of C Major, and you can hear what they sound like in this soundcloud file.
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Places where there are remnants of long, long continuous human presence are neat. The way different bits of history are present like different layers of paint or varnish on a place.
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At the gate, selling the three euro entry, a small coffee bar staffed by one very elderly-looking woman. Just inside the fence, a mysterious shady enclosure housing a depressed-looking peacock. Around the talaiots, soil studded with small stones that has recently been sloughed, I think to limit weeds more than for any other purpose. From a seat on the top wall, I listened to tree sorrows, linnets, a serin. I had a glass of the one beer they sell, Estrella, before we left.
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