Morning Commute - Wind Turbines

Turbines looming over canyon walls.

Early in my Condon-Hood River traverses, I fell in love with wind turbines.  These massive whirling beasts that each require something like 14 tractor trailer truckloads to assemble, populate the landscape throughout the high desert of Eastern Oregon and the eastern edge of the Gorge.  

Light snow and fog hug The Six early in March 2013

When viewed at just the correct angle, one can see them lined up in their rows: groupings of 4 or 6 or more.  Viewed at a different angle, the multiple sets of turbines look as if they should be colliding, blades slicing at different tempos.  And then there is the view just out of Wasco, heading towards Condon, where wind turbines sprout before you - row after row - endlessly stretching towards the distant horizon.

As Tim and I moved across the country nearly two years ago, we passed many fields of wind turbines in Kansas, Utah, Wyoming and Eastern Oregon.  But in my daily commute, on my two-lane road, I am close to these giants.  They are a mixture of savvy engineering and surprising simplicity.  So many pinwheels planted amidst the wheat. While I am dwarfed by them in my sedan, I view them as sentinels guarding my path.

Spring sunrise light The Six

Near the beginning of my daily commute towards Hood River, there is a grouping of six turbines that never cease to fascinate me.  Whether they are wrapped in fog or gleaming in early morning sunlight, their movement comforts me.  Their rhythm reminds me of the rhythm of the Universe brought to life when the Wind blew across the waters.

Perhaps this is why, on that rare occasion, when the blades are not revolving, I feel jarred, unsettled, anxious.  Just as God rested on the seventh day, the wind in one of the windiest places on earth, gets to rest. Perhaps that is the lesson for me.  Every so often, I too get to rest from my travels, from my work, from my distractions to be still and know God.

All photos by Maggie Sebastian (on her old IPhone)