Open Thread – Oh, Canada! Part Deux
30 08 2009
Continuing on our virtual flight from Houston to Anchorage, we are still over Canada. My best guess is somewhere near the border of Alberta and British Columbia.
When I woke up from a nap and looked out the window to see this, I felt like a kid at Christmas! Or maybe more like one at Easter, peering into one of those little magical sugary eggs to see the scene inside. Wind turbines! Dozens of them. And I could see each one of them turning in the invisible wind down at the surface. I’ve seen plenty of moving things from a plane, most notably cars and trucks, but this was different. It felt hopeful. I wondered if some day this would be a common sight for people looking out the windows of planes; tiny turning pinwheels dotting the landscape, showing that sometimes humans can make things that are forward thinking, and actually reduce our ever growing carbon footprint.
I wondered what it would feel like to be down there looking up at them turning and listening to the wind. I wondered who lives in those farmhouses and what they’re growing. I was so enthralled I almost forgot to snap a picture.
I bet if corporations owned the wind, we’d have more of these.
August 30th, 2009 at 9:12 PM
Prayers and good thoughts to all in SoCal.
Take some time now to prepare in case your area is called to leave.
Stay safe and PLEASE obey any local evacuation orders.
August 30th, 2009 at 10:42 PM
I just wrote to all the fair managers listed on post #92. We will see if I get any responses.
August 30th, 2009 at 11:04 PM
.
Having a wee bit of an Irish wake for poor auld Teddy, we are. Sinead’s “Danny Boy,” a Cherokee version of “Amazing Grace, ArethaFranklin, et alia. BYOB, unfortunately.
Slainte, and Goodbye, America’s Senator.
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August 30th, 2009 at 11:19 PM
Oops…My #101 post should have been on the State Fair thread…sorry…………
August 31st, 2009 at 9:35 AM
Every time we go home to West Texas, we are amazed at how the landscape has been transformed by thousands of giant wind turbines.
The acrid smell of oil fields from my childhood has been replaced with white blades turning in the ever-present breeze. With every whoosh, I like to imagine that’s one less gallon of oil purchased from the Middle East.