I am walking in a wind turbine forest today. Tall, silent, looming presences stand sentinel along the meseta for the best part of 5 km. In the dark predawn landscape the white turbines assume a shimmering beauty as the sun rises behind them. It seems that they reach up forever into the sky, rather like a space version of Jack’s beanstalk.
We all know what happened to Jack when he reached the top of that beanstalk. But for me this morning there is no fear of giants,nor any wish to find the gold purse .
I am simply walking and and taking in the magnitude of this man created forest. A mass of silvery white shapes topped with the still blades stretches as far as the eye can see .
I’m content to be here below, walking in the cool morning and looking skywards at another fairy tale morning.