The Invader

    Well it’s comin’ by gum.  You can feel it in the air, you can see it everywhere, look around!

     Or should it be, Invasion of the Transformer Monsters?

     So I’m out in the middle of my field in the middle of nowhere.  And suddenly—

           I’m playing a game of chicken with a motor grader!

     It starts gradually, away off on the horizon.  No need to worry yet.

                    Then, whoom!  It’s in your face, and they are here.

    

     It’s the big gorilla in the room—wind generators.  The old flat plain with here and there a rolling hill and a dry creek will soon be forever changed, soon to be dominated by huge wind towers.  The farm will be in the middle of it all—towers in all four directions. 
     It is somewhat important to me, therefore, to document what it was like before the giants strode across the prairie.

       Here are the stakes that mark the road to tower 119. 
      Then the path has been made.

    The beginning dirtwork—note there is still a little grass around the stake.

            Then a new sign post. And a little more dirtwork.

       And then a lot more dirtwork:

     I wonder what our old neighbor Elmer would say if he could see this, or the old ranchers and homesteaders, or the Indians for that matter.

      I have to buck up and assimilate to the change of scenery.  One of these days when the wind obnoxiously blows, instead of saying, “Dang the dang wind!” we’ll say greenly, “Wow!  Look at that meter turn.” 

     How’s that for ambivalence?