Broken, NextEra Energy Came to Town

The Flint Hills, the gem of Kansas with endless vistas, a sea of grass and hidden valleys with pristine creeks flowing through. What a feast for my eyes, solace for my heart and mind as I drove west on I-70 and headed north on Highway 99 to meet Ellen and Bob Koch in Frankfort, a tiny rural community in Marshall County.

Driving in, enjoying the scenery I was shocked when hulking skeletons began to march across the horizon marring the pristine landscape. The enormous size of these skeletons, whose blades slashed through the sky, overwhelmed and dominated the now broken rural vistas.

Welcome to the industrialization of rural Kansas, pitting neighbor against neighbor, eagles falling victim to the cruel blades and the quiet invaded by the whomp, whomp, whomp of wind turbines’ endless assault, not to mention the dreaded shadow flicker invading individuals’ homes.

This is the reality to which Ellen and Bob introduced me as they drove me around the county they grew up in, raised their family and was enjoying their golden years….until NextEra came to town.

Oh, NextEra’s promises of economic development, the minimal impact on the environment, and the beauty of these green energy machines. What I saw, what I heard from folks living in the shadow of these skeletons chronicled a litany of broken promises, broken dreams and broken windturbines.

One family literally moving their house to escape the constant onslaught of the wind turbines’ whomp, whomp, whomp or screeching when in need of repair and the impact of the differentiation in air pressure.  My experience of being near the turbines was my ears had a sense compression. Then there was the conversation with a woman who put up blackout curtains in her attempt to mitigate the impact shadow flicker invading her home.

The cartoon is a rendering of a photo after a turbine blade failed in 2023, fiberglass debris was thrown over 2,000 feet, impacting the adjacent hay field and ruining at least one season of haying.

This is the reality that Ellen, Bob and their neighbors shared with me on a beautiful February afternoon in the Flint Hills surrounding Frankfort.

The Green Dream’s ugly truth IS beyond tragic.