Driving through west Texas Tuesday night, somewhere between Sweetwater and Lubbock, my son and I saw all of these red blinking lights dotting the countryside. It was a very dark and foggy evening, which made the whole scene fairly eerie. The highway finally took us close enough to some to see that they were the blinking red warning lights on top of energy producing windmills. Hundreds and hundreds of them.
It’s been about 4 years since I last drove through this region on my way to Durango, and there were some windmills back then. But nothing compared to now.
On the way back home on Wednesday afternoon we were able to see just how many there are. Many are on farm land towering above cotton and corn. Wind farms growing on traditional farms. In some places the giant propellers stretch as far as the eye can see, surrounded neatly by rows and rows of crops.
Interspersed, occasionally, with the windmills are the symbols of our oil addiction. Oil pumps working away, sucking the crude up from below. Even at night you know the pumps are there – by the smell in the air.
Old school vs. new school.