Windmill 'de Genenberg', St. Michielsgestel

The 'g' in 'Genenberg' is NOT the French 'g', and also not the 'g' of either 'giraffe' or 'girl'.  The closest I can think of is the 'gh' in 'ghost' but a whole lot softer so that 'ghost' almost sounds like 'host'.  Pretend you have a slight cough or are a bit tipsy.

'Genenberg' is just the name of the street.  The literal translation would be 'gene mountain', which I doubt very much referred to anything in genetics when the street was named.  Perhaps it was the name of a locally famous personage who contributed to the welfare of the area?  There is no mountain in that town, not even a hill.  My idea is that, actually, the street was named after the windmill.  It was most likely nothing more than a dirt road.  Paved today, of course, to accommodate everyone living at the far end of it, although it is a dead-end.

Quite an adventure for me today as for the first time ever, I got stuck in the muddy slush where I parked the car.  The extra shows the car in front of the windmill.  It was rough enough putting it there and impossible to go forward back onto the road.  I started by kicking some hardened clumps of snow away from the wheels.  A woman walking by offered to help push.  No go.  Then another woman, about 80-ish or so, rode by on her bicycle and the first woman flagged her down to help.  I thought, woman power, yea, but will it be enough?  No go.  It turned out that the woman on the bike was the first woman's mother.  They suggested I walk about 50 m. down the road and ask to borrow a shovel from the nearest house.  The 80-ish gentleman was very accommodating, although he did not offer to help and I did not think of asking him anyway.  As I was shoveling away more frozen snow from the front of the car, a gentleman and his wife walked by and offered to help.  He pushed from behind, but still no go.  Another gentleman came by.  Together, they shoveled more snow away from the front, and then one of them took the mat in front of the passenger seat and put it in front of the right front wheel.  They told me in which direction to turn the wheels while they pushed.  After three attempts, I was finally back on the road.  It was, however, a very narrow road, so I had to park right in front of the gate of the windmill, something that's not allowed, obviously, while they put the shovel on the back seat and I maneouvered.  After half an hour of trying, I was so relieved I burst into tears (silly me!) and asked what I owed the gentlemen, and even took out a 20-euro bill, whereupon they laughed and said 'Aww, meissie toch, we're help to help each other, aren't we?'  Such good and kind people!  Down the road, I dropped off the shovel.  I don't even know their names, and they don't know mine.

Lesson learned -- NEVER risk parking on muddy slush.  Instead, park on solid road and then proceed further on foot.  Have done this loads of times and why I didn't think of it this time is simply idiotic.

From the shot, it could look like there's a family living in the windmill.  That is correct!  This windmill is home sweet home to somebody.  The bell at the gate was out of order, though, so could not ask them for help.

Fabulous weather, as you can see, and the forecast is two more days of this.  Whether or not that means two more days of hunting remains to be seen.  Back home, dinner and research, and TV for AW.  I have to get used to his being home in the weekends.  I asked him how he's feeling because he so enjoyed his overnights at Eindhoven and does he not miss those.  He said he's fine and okay, so I'll put my doubts aside.