I finally got around to reading a copy of the Independent’s new i newspaper and there on page 13 (29th October edition) was a man called Terence Blacker slating one of my favourite pieces of landscape architecture, the wind turbine.
The first time I ever saw a field of wind turbines I was driving back from a rained-out holiday in Devon with my boyfriend. Instantly captivated, we pulled over at the nearest farm road and went running into the field for a better look.
Even in the Dorset drizzle we weren’t disappointed. Their whiteness was stunning against the patchy blue sky and stubbly gold field and their gentle rhythmic ‘whomp’ was one of the most comforting sounds I had ever heard.
Since then, I’ve never understand people who are anti-wind turbine. They may not be as efficient as a nuclear power station or as pretty as a vase of peonies but at least they’re not going to poison the planet and even if you don’t like them as much as I do, with just one stem and three blades there’s not a lot there to hate.
Not only that but their simple minimalism actually enhances the beauty of the countryside. Putting a wind turbine or three in a field is like a scaled-up version of putting a sculpture or fountain in a garden – the stark differences in colour, form and material compliment each other perfectly.
I promised myself that day in Dorset that if money ever came my way, I would buy a wind turbine and plant it on a hill at the end of my very own field.
I’m still waiting for that day to come but when it does, being the slightly community-minded person I like to think I am, I’ll share its power with my neighbours. But only if they love it too.