Two years
ago I was in the mountains of Western Maryland for a week of vacation at my
family’s stomping grounds just west of Deep Creek, near Oakland. My mom’s
family is all from out that way, and we’ve made annual pilgrimages since I was
a kid, but it was my first time back in years. A lot was familiar; the
eighty-year-old cabins hadn’t changed much. Some things, however, were
different. The biggest difference that I remember was stepping out to take in
the mountain landscape and seeing, about 10 miles away, gigantic wind mills
cluttering the skyline. New construction for cleaner energy. They were huge,
and they were ugly.