woke with a start, another dream about working on the grime of the 'Net. it's near dawn, the sun waiting for me below the horizon, and the air is crisp on the ranch. i stretch; make my way to the photovoltaic array. i dont work on the web anymore, traded long ago pixels for panels on the solarfarm.

the mist settling through the valley smells clean after last night's rain, and the lark buntings and gray jays and cedar waxwings discuss the issues of the day, more and more clamorous despite the gentle hushing of the wind turbine's vanes oscillating high above us on the hill. the dirt trail is slightly rutted, and i follow absent-minded rivulets on their way down the hill as they link arms and eventually join together in the creek bed. upon reaching the pv array, i check the readout — looks like the northern panels, nearest the forest, need angle adjustment and slash removal.

turning the base plate adjustment screw, i turn the panels away from the southern horizon: the changing of the seasons asks us to face our electrical sunflowers to new day arcs. in the supports of one panel, i spot a nest — a white-crowned sparrow makes his home here. i leave the panel where it is.

i learned the names and songs of the birds from books and localnet, a sort of scrappy community internet co-operated by some mountainside neighbors and librarians. clearing the pine needles from the last panels, i make a note of the nest in my book. i don't take the sparrow's photo: i'll see him tomorrow.