Increasingly, however, I find myself becoming rather excited by the accounts of the renewables schemes emerging across Scotland. Writing as a distinctly uninformed member of the public common. On a superficial level, the imagery is easily appealing. Renewable energy’s metaphors appeal to a distinguished idea of human creativity, cloud-compelling cunning. Like the God of Genesis at work, its tools are the maelstrom of wind, tide, wood, wave, water, sun. Don’t lets be dazzled by the bigness of all of this. Buildings are made of bricks, monuments to human efforts the sum of innumerable smaller acts, efforts and cares. Think naught a trifle, though it small appear; Small sands the mountain, moments make the year, And trifles life. It is this aspect which I find so compelling about these large projects, their coordination. Their allure is precisely in the sum of their smallness, their dullness even. Some of this enthusiasm in my part is probably furnished by how far it contrasts with my own labours. It must be existentially rather dissimilar to see your efforts given material expression. The planning and building up, coordinating and engineering will be attested by a sea of white windmills, blades scudding through the froth and foam.
Although I’m unable to independently verify the information, pause for a moment and consider the following estimations of