*** warning: weird brain-dump post following***
Being fifty-something, I think way too much.
Lately I’ve been thinking about wind farms.
I love looking at wind turbines … those majestic towering beauties that appear on the horizon when you least expect it, in the middle of a Sunday drive. Sometimes you just get a glimpse of one in the distance. It seems to take forever to close in and get up close. Then you find there’s a whole flock of them cresting a clifftop or hugging the high-ground on a hill.
When you stand at the base of one of these giants, you feel a sense of strength and solidity amongst amazing silence (at least, I do!)
I could look at them all day. I find them weirdly intriguing even though they are so incongruent with the landscapes they occupy. Perhaps it’s what they represent: humans sorting out more environmentally-conscious ways to live. (A bit airy fairy?)
The jury’s still out on whether they are actually silent and whether they can negatively impact wellbeing. I’m not saying I want one in my backyard, just that they look mighty schmick.
So, we’ve established I’m loopy … I love staring at wind turbines.
Then I start thinking about these aberrations:
What were we thinking when we erected armies of these fuglies marching across the landscape?
I find nothing attractive in these. Just fugly, fugly, fugly. Even though they’re majestic, incongruent, solid and silent (except for that odd buzzing thing).
Between you and me, I DO think that’s a great photo of a fugly subject.
So, what’s my point?
All this thinking leads me to wonder whether we thought the power line stanchions were beautiful when they were being proposed/erected?
And am I still going to find wind farms beautiful (or even bearable) to look at in a couple of decades? I fear the novelty will wear off and they will evolve into fugly old blights on the landscape. Just like their ancestral cousins.
And, the even bigger question: is fugly OK if it’s going to help save the planet?
Feck. Definitely over-thinking.
Do you ever wonder about wind turbines? Love ‘em or hate ‘em?