Against the Wind
Look, I’m not here to dive head first into the whole No Wind Farm debate. I’m not going to argue whether or not they are efficient, if they’re harmful to local agriculture, roads, or livestock, or if they are detrimental to our health. That’s for smarter people than me to jump up and down about.
The fact of the matter is, barring some sort of miracle, a wind farm is going to be erected in my nape of the woods. Contracts are signed, commissioners have been paid off, and all the “i’s” have been dotted and the “t’s” have been crossed. It’s going to happen.
My major concern, beyond all the chest-thumping and fear mongering is this: they’re freaking hideous.
I was born in the country and have lived the vast majority of my life far away from the hustle and bustle of city life. I can’t stand cities. Hate them for the most part. I like trees. And fields. And streams. And wildlife. I don’t like people all that much, at least not when they’re all bunched together.
And I don’t like 350 foot metal towers with whirling blades the size of a jumbo freaking jet.
I find them ascetically displeasing.
When I look out across a rolling field of corn or beans or what have you, I don’t want to see an offending spike reaching for the heavens like a big old middle finger pointing to the gods. And when darkness falls, I sure as hell don’t want to see 150 blinking red lights corrupting my nocturnal stargazing.
That’s why I’m opposed to the wind farm planned for Grant and Howard County.
Because it’s ugly.