Catholic by grace | Tilting at windmills
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If you travel north from Missouri through Iowa and follow the Avenue of the Saints (yes, that's what it is really called), you will reach a field of windmills just before entering Minnesota.
The windmills look nothing like those of Don Quixote. They are enormous — three or four times taller than the trees or barns or telephone poles that dot the landscape beneath them. Their arms and bodies are made of strong metal, but they respond to the wind with great assent.
Whoosh. Whoosh. Whoosh.
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