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  • On the way out there, one of the first things that caught my eye were the windmills. They weren't the old fashioned wooden ones, but the newer green energy windmills. I didn't like them. They seemed foreign and out of place. They covered the surface of the caprock, distracting from its natural grandeur.

    I cut my eyes at these 'things'. I wondered how much good they were doing. I thought, with distaste, about how they looked like someone had poked out the middles of the old Mercedes hood ornaments and fastened them on giant sewing needles. Eyesores. I couldn't wait for them to be in my rearview mirror.

    All along the way, scattered over miles, in several fields, were pumpjacks. Freshly painted or antiquated and dressed in rust, they labored. Some were set to pump continuously, and some set on timers. These metal mantis' caused me no ill feelings; their lazy up and down progress almost comforting. Blights upon the earth? Nay. I love the smell of crude oil. It reminds me of being younger and traveling with my family.

    And that's just it. I am a born creature of habit. Every minute of this life I live reinforces my need, my compulsion for routine. I am used to oil wells, tank batteries, and pumpjacks. Although I grew up in the city, these things put food on our table and paid for all of my needs and so many of my wants throughout my life. Coming full circle, they do the same today, as I have begun to work in my father's business.

    I suppose I will get used to the towering pinwheels that promise to harness the environment's natural movements. Truth be told, on the way back, we drove right through a farm and I got to see them better. I was close enough to begin to appreciate subtle things about them; the curves and geometry of the blades. Metaphorically there is much to be learned about this discovery. Although I am a creature of habit and comfort, I will strive to be open to new things.
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