Miniature meditations on the imagery I notice as my life moves me around my country and the world.
Wednesday, February 22, 2017
Crossing power lines, Maine
Two sets of high-voltage power lines, crossing somewhere in the wilderness of Maine. Notice the service trail running long the larger one, to support maintenance and repairs. Where I grew up in New England, all of the power lines disappear discreetly into the hills and forests like this. I found it shocking the first time that we went to Quebec and the power lines were standing out stark, proud, and tall, looking like they were intended to make some sort of industrial statement. Now that I've spent more time out in flatter or drier lands, I realize that discretely hidden power lines are the exception rather than the norm, but I still prefer them that way.