Monday 19 September 2011

energy independent

   If you invested a great deal of time, effort, emotion and money into something that depended on the sun, what would be the most ironic bit of weather you might expect on the eve of its implementation? Yes, a force five thunderstorm complete with its own source of mega electricity. At 2:30am the whole house awoke with a light burst more white and brilliant than a summer's day and a deafening, simultaneous, instantaneous crash. I think the dog downstairs threw up on Elda's carpet. And that wasn't nearly enough. Lightning and thunder continued without pause keeping every one in expectation of the next explosion that would surely carry us all away. Remember, this all came by surprise after bedtime and after roughly four months of NO clouds, rain or certainly thunder. Crash! Luckily, I had unplugged the sensitive stuff at bedtime and the only real damage was a defunct internet modem (yet again).
   When the sleepy kids went off to school before dawn, it was still raining but the tempest had passed. The wind was stilled, and the land quiet. We had accumulated some four inches of rain in any open bucket, yet the sky opened peacefully to a beautiful, partly cloudy day.
    The electrical utility was scheduled to arrive that morning to install their meters and allow our photovoltaic panels to begin benefiting mankind, but damage to local equipment during the night caused them to arrive in the afternoon with only one worker. He did what he was supposed to do and by four pm we were watching our electric meter register kilowatt hours positive. A much anticipated moment. Murphy's Law demanded that clouds would form and of course a light rain broke out at the precise moment, but that didn't keep us from gathering a lawn chair to watch the meter creep off the zero peg during a break in the clouds.
    We are finally producing our own energy. We should be producing enough to allow us to look at a new electric toaster-oven going on sale tomorrow, but we may have to wait until spring. The dry summer has overnight turned into the cool, damp winter.

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