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Sadly, or otherwise,
I am now at a stage of my life…
…where I can say that these first two images
are two of the first wheels I remember.
Equally sadly I remember setting about wrecking
a buggy of this era about sixty years ago.
My guess is that this wheel belongs to what my Father
would have called a bullock dray.
Windmills, not quite like this one,
were the life line for or our livestock
during long hot, dry summers.
As Dad and I each began to age, it was yours truly
that took the lead in climbing up the mill
to give it a regular grease and oil change.
For some reason it was always a windy day
and even with the mill cut back the wheel
would be turning at a dangerous speed
and would need stopping by hand.