Buttrum’s Mill

Buttrum’s Mill, Woodbridge, Suffolk, built 1836, retired 1928

Sentinel of the past and still point in a turning world

Among the ruffled oaks and meadow green of June

You stand, quivering a potential of energy and

Grinding time between your petrified stones

A pastoral quietus you make beneath blue or starlight

No longer oaring at wind or batting at moons or

Sailing wildly before the madness of sunsets

Suffering brother Andrew up to heaven

All your ladders are centripetal, so that a dreaming

Jacob climbs your angled ribs to enlightenment

One small oblong of sky at a time

Perhaps a bit unlucky for this fine brick windmill that the rich flour merchant who owned it was called Buttrum. But there you go. A rose by any other name… you know the rest. I have snapped what might look like a rear view in honour of its name but as a babe in arms knows the sails move to face the wind. So this is actually the front. Tours are available at certain times throughout the summer and I can vouch for the view from the top floor window. This windmill has a quiet dignity that seems to belong to the best of the Victorian age. I think it finally fell victim not only to more industrial methods of milling but also to a process of centralisation, a process that is still very much with us.