Have you ever seen windmill mountains, green hills dotted with windmills under floating clouds? The quiet and relaxing beauty conjures up Miyazaki Hayao's manga. “It is a lush feast, and miniature of flourishing age.” Windmills in the sea of clouds are worth watching. As sunset reddens the mountains and nightfall silences the world, only the white windmills in the rolling mountains are still spinning, the blades, against the evening glow, murmuring in praise of the world. Day after day, windmills go round and round. Windmills promise a brighter future for the mountains and the locals. I think the most romantic fairy tale is the landscapes of our motherland, windmills topping snow-capped mountains and the fighting spirit of countless workers. Windmill blades record the flow of time and change of seasons. While driving the local development, windmills silently turn the struggle of generation into sweet memories. In the passage of time, not only are we pursuing development, but our hometown is also pursuing development. Windmills accompany us in our growth, and guard the development of our hometown. So, let us come back oftener. The fields are awaiting us, so are our elderly shambling parents, and the non-stop rotating windmills.