Alas, having gone unchecked these four centuries, that cursed necromancer Freston’s giants have grown and multiplied. The night sky penetrated by the rhythmic illuminations of those crimson demon eyes.
Peasants flee the safety of their homes and security of their gardens for the uncertainty of urban life to escape the offences of these beasts.
The waving lances of these behemoths now towering at hundreds of feet above the Earth fend off all that dare come near: Many a fowl have gone afoul trying to penetrate their defences. The sound of their blades ring out as a death knell to what is left of our pastoral communities.
Holding prisoner our fellow countrymen having fallen under the spell of that evil sorcerer.
It is rumoured that verily the worms beneath their mammoth legs flee to escape the tremblings caused by the vibrations of these massive beasts.
Even the trees of the forest cannot escape Freston’s wrath. Uprooted to serve as stakes for the conduits of nectar so hungrily sought by our metropolitan cousins who know not of our existence.
Soon these monsters will be waving to all those who stand on our shores trying to peer through their obscurement to glimpse at our sunsets.
It has been 400 years since that evil Freston, fearing the superior skills of Don Quixote de la Mancha, spared his ogre minions the taste of the Knight’s lance by turning the giants into “windmills.” Thus, Don Quixote was deprived of the honour of victory so many years ago. Today Freston has an army of giants spread across the globe. These giants must be exposed and their disguises removed. (With apologies to Miguel de Cervantes)
OK, I’m no Cervantes but I feel like a quixotista tilting at windmills. There’s really nothing wrong with windmills. I wouldn’t mind having one myself. A real one, not a giant! One to serve my needs. Who’s needs are these giants serving? Toronto? The British? The Spanish? Alberta Tar-sanders? Certainly not ours. What we get are neighbours pitted against neighbours, health concerns and a blighted landscape.
If you drive north from Ripley along SR. 25 you see a lot of new poles running along the side of the road. SR. 25 turns into SR 10 once you get into Kincardine Township. If you keep driving north you’re going to see a lot more new poles. A few trees had to be cut down to put in these new poles.
New poles used to be called old trees.
These giants don’t belong where people happen to be living. Even some landowners that signed up for the giants on their property claim to be ill. In response to growing complaints by people living near windmills, in January half a world away, the Japanese Environment Ministry announced a study into potential health hazards of all wind turbines nationwide. What does our government do? Takes away all local control. So much for democracy.
Who could tolerate a flashing red light shining in their bedroom window every night? I don’t know how much landowners are getting to play hosts to these behemoths, but in some cases it might be worthwhile for neighbour to pay neighbour not to put one on their land when you consider the loss in property value and health.
Is there any reason that taxpayer and ratepayer money going to subsidize out-of-province and off-shore corporations couldn’t be used to help the poor local farmer so that they don’t have to prostitute their land? How about a much smaller windmill to serve the farmers own needs and perhaps the needs of their neighbours? Give them a battery bank to maintain and you’ve got wind power that can contribute to peak demands, unlike those monsters.
Then again, poor farmers don’t contribute to political parties like big corporations do. They just vote for them.
So, be there chivalry left in this world let thy plume be thy lance: pick up thy plumes fellow countrymen and scribe thee to our governors words of appeal. Restore the honour lost by our gallant knight so long ago.
Keith Cleveland, Ripley