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I was brought up during the depression on an irrigated farm one mile from the Snake River and one mile from The Old Oregon Trail. We had an electric pump so I did not have to pump water for the livestock by hand as the neighbor boys did. However, a few farmers had windmills, eliminating the tedious chore of hand pumping.

When I was in the seventh grade Mrs Shaver was added to the faculty as an art teacher. We were all asked to do a water color picture, so I picked a theme of interest to me. (My art talent is zero.) It was a dry farm (no irrigation) out in the desert showing the farmhouse with a mountain in the background, and in the foreground was a windmill like some farmers used for pumping water from the well. I was surprised when the teacher asked me to explain my picture to her, but was astonished when I was asked to show it to the class. They asked me, "What are those streaks from the top of the windmill to the farmhouse?"