when i was a child, we had a quarter horse ranch, as well as a 20 acre plot way out in the middle of nowhere, which we used as "spillover" for the millions of extra horses that my dad just couldn't resist (a gross exaggeration, but you get the idea). it did, however feel that way to my mom, who used to take us kids along with her when we'd have to drive out there (sans dad, who was usually away in a remote location working on a pipeline) to feed the horses.
but i used to, and still do, love the windmill on the property. there's an old-world, clean air, down-home feel about the sturdy old windmill. and they just used to sit there and flail around in the wind (hopefully) and pump water for the horses and the oats that we were attempting to grow for them to eat.
this drawing is called "allora windmill" in honor of the dear old war-horse that helped our family.