Friday, 9 October 2020

Sol Journal 2020-10-09

"Last day of summer" people keep saying. I'm not convinced. It's more like summer and autumn are tussling, a gargantuan back-and-forth in the skies surrounding our tiny island. Brown leaves whip around a pure white feather. Early evenings. The courgette flowers in the veg patch are having one last party, misshapen vegetables springing out under the broad, strong foliage put out in summer.

The days are changeable, tripping between horizontal downpours and chilled sunlight perfect for grazing. It's not too bad for solar harvesting, except I'm keeping an eye on the forecast - as the daylight hours get shorter and the shadows stretch out, it's useful to get as much of the rays as I can. I'm putting out all three sets of panels when the sun's good, and I'm reminded of the hundred rabbits recent account of sailing from Japan to Canada, and the extent to which they put their sail up and down. Panels harvesting the sun. Sails harvesting the wind. Is there a pattern that can be extrapolated there?

Anyway, I'm not leaving my panels out overnight currently, partly as the smaller ones are trickier to protect from the rain, partly I'm not too confident about leaving the big battery outside yet. Need to think through housing structures still. But for now, it means I get to walk up and down the garden, and can just about carry everything in one trip. I get to see the weeds growing and heck the last of the tomatoes and remind myself how it all works and twists at this time of year.

The evenings are darker though, and there's not much chance to go out, so it's tempting to sit inside and go through my backlog of games. Sadly that uses up more energy if I'm in the laptop, so I feel I'm still some way from actually running games off the solarpunk ideals yet.

Winter is coming, and our retreat to the brightness of screens feels strangely out of place, even though we all naturally crave a light in the dark.

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