Howdy friends and neighbors. I ended my last written mess with a comment about explaining windmill leathers, and I did so jokingly. But, I have received more response from folks all around that want me to continue my explanation of how windmills work. One thing that keeps me here at the keyboard is the response I get from all of you out there that take the time to read this mess. Thanks.
I love to hear all your stories and how something that I wrote made you remember those past memories. I have heard and read some funny windmill stories this past week and I’m going to try to include a few of them this week. Well, I could write about another subject that goes in circles, squeaks constantly, has their heads stuck up in air, are extremely high maintenance, and really need a good whack or two from a shovel, but congress has just bored me to tears lately….
Windmill leathers: yep, there actually are little round disc like seals that are made from leather that make a windmill pump water. Leathers make a watertight seal in-between the check valve that moves up and down and the working barrel that remains stationary inside the water well. Another set of leathers seal the bottom check valve to the bottom of the working barrel. If you have ever been around someone that is headed to “pull a windmill,” chances are that they are in route to a windmill in a remote location to physically and manually pull the sucker-rod along with the top check out of the well to replace these fifty cent leathers. The ones in route usually are not in a humorous mood and you should avoid them unless you wish to volunteer your back to help pull the rod. My advice is not to walk away, but run. As one of my readers told my the other day, he loves looking at windmills, he loves listening to windmills, he just loves windmills, but he absolutely hates to work on them.
One of my favorite stories about a windmill, other than fixing one with a shovel, is the one about an old cowboy that had a windmill down. (Down means broke, tore-up, leathers out, or just plain not pumping water.) Anyway he thought he would climb the tower and have a look see as to what the problem could be. He had seen others do it that had less cowboying skills than he, so what could be so hard about it? As he made his way almost to the top of the twenty-foot or so tall tower he quit looking down and looked up through the fan of the non-functioning mill. It was a pretty day, a few clouds in the sky and a nice light breeze. As his eyes began to focus on the fan, it started to turn. The clouds were moving as well and the novice windmill man was convinced that the tower wasn’t going to support his weight like the buckskin gelding that he rode up on. With the fan turning just right and with the illusion of the clouds passing overhead, he was truly convinced he and the windmill were toppling over. The cowboy grit his teeth, rode it halfway to the ground and jumped off. After he came too and caught his breath, the windmill was still perpendicular to the earth but he wasn’t. Even the buckskin had a confused look on his face as the cowboy looked around to make sure no one else saw what he had done.
I’ll leave this week with a poem that a good friend wrote several years back and sent to me.
Windmill
If you had an old windmill,
Just outside your windowsill,
A breezy summer night,
A racket it would make,
You would toss and turn from the noise,
Keeping you awake.
Now you are older,
And thinking of that windmill,
And the steady rhythm it would keep,
Wishing you had one right outside,
Lulling you to sleep.
Burton Harmon
I’m Monte Tucker, and that is what’s under my, yyaaawwwnnnnnn, hat.
