Armies Of The Night . . .

Enmeshed in the late evening cloudscape, power lines march across farmland bisected by the road to Oakville. The number of pylons has doubled in the past year but, apart from the unfortunates in the path of their menacing advance, no one seems to care. The silence is strange, especially when contrasted to the rabid opposition to the eye-catching, hauntingly-beautiful windmills erected in eerie windfarms on the hills a few miles north - SEE HERE - However, I don't live close to either, otherwise I'd be a SEBNoM, clamouring for them to be in Someone Else's Backyard, Not Mine . . .