A short essay, and accompanying image, about a wind farm blossoming on the ridge across from the writers home.
The Whisper of Wind
For almost six months I have watched the ridge across from my home as a wind farm has slowly but surely taken shape there. To some - the purists and the not-in-my-back-yarders - its presence is an annoyance, a scar on the land, but to me it is a thing of beauty to behold. A powerful symbol of our ability to harness the resources of nature in a way that will sustain my family, my son's family and many generations to come.
They speak of a respect for the land and for those from whom we have borrowed the future. No poisons lie hidden in their framework, no monolithic corporation has marred the land elsewhere to set their stage, no fire or explosion or meltdown hides within their arms reaching to the sky and soon to be spinning as they welcome the wind that is a nearly constant force moving eastward along the valley . . . The valley of the river my forebearers called the Asquamchemaukee before Colonel Baker paddled his way into history and ravaged their peaceful village along the riverbank. What this wind farm portends is almost an act of penance for a thousand acts of violence perpetrated by both sides in the years that brought us to this time and place. No terrorist - modern or ancient will find purchase here again.
The Whisper of wind speaks freedom and peace in a thousand tongues.
~ Wayne D. King