Windmill country

The impression of the Netherlands is far less than that of Paris. Perhaps it was inspired by the majority, and gradually forgot the windmill country.

The Netherlands is the world of water, the world of flowers, and the world of pastures. If it is just a windmill country, the road image lacks a little life. The green lowland is inlaid between the canals, black-headed white cattle, white-headed black cattle, white-waisted blue-billed black cows, gathered around the windmill. Extremely far-sighted, surrounded by green velvet grasslands and black and white flower cattle. Further far away, the flat grass is also infinitely extended, and there is a faint glimpse of a group of galloping horses. Apart from the canals covered by deep weeds, there is nothing to stop them from flying to Utrecht or Fulle, to the Duke like this free country.

Silence adds a bit of mystery to this vibrant grassland, thousands of cattle and sheep, thousands of horses, thousands of chickens, just no figures. When the golden sunset glows through the grassland with a sloppy footstep, someone will greet the boat from the river bank, sit on the bench, bathe the sunset, and milk the solemn cows in Shensu. Even if there were occasional whistle sounds, there was silence.

I have asked my friends to evaluate the Netherlands many times. 'There are all the silence', the sleeping animals, the silent lowlands, the dark nights, only the distant lighthouses flash this faint light. 'Country style', yes, that is the real Netherlands.

The third day: the summer return to the prayer