|Somewhere in France|
There is something so hypnotic to me about the movement of the wind. I can sit and stare for hours at laundry blowing in the breeze or the swaying of treetop limbs. It lulls me. Calms me. I feel like I fall into a trance when I watch the movement of the wind, and my mind is finally at rest.
These wind turbines have the same appeal. I want to pull off the road and watch them spin for hours. A field of them is like a candy store; I'm almost overwhelmed. Yet oddly, at the same time, these gentle giants scare me. They make me think of science fiction monsters taking over the world with Freddy Krueger finger blades ready to slice up anything in their path. They make me think of fierce nature; competely uncaring. Steely machines. I must know intrinsically that they harness power so great that we could never overcome it. And we can't even see it. The wind, I mean. It's out there all around us with its superhuman force, and we don't even see it.