The Lowell wind turbines stood still as gravestones on a recent afternoon in the deep, still, cold, just as they stood the morning before, and many of these windless freezing nights. When needed most, no production.
I could see them for miles from Wolcott, up through Craftsbury, Albany, Irasburg, and over the hill to Barton. Not one moved the entire time – intermittent and unreliable power paid for twice through taxes and higher rates. Closer to Barton, the Sheffield array came into view (I live between the two sitings so one or the other or both of these huge rows of palings assault my view when I drive). They were also still as white crosses in the graveyard of their destroyed environs. Ironically, though producing none, they would be using electricity to flash their intrusive beacons all night long.
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