One day, someone will stand with their child at the top of Kamiak Butte, gazing out over the Palouse. The horizon will be punctuated by red lights blinking in unison, steel towers stretching endlessly, and a faint, ceaseless hum carried on the wind. The child will ask, innocently enough:
“What was it like before all of this?”
The parent will pause, trying to summon the right words. They will talk about how the hills used to roll uninterrupted, like waves frozen in golden stillness. How the sunsets painted the sky with colors too vivid to describe. How silence wasn’t just the absence of noise but a presence—something that filled the air and your soul.
They’ll try to explain how the view used to be perfect.
But the truth is, words will fail. Because some things can’t be captured in explanation; they can only be experienced. And once they are gone, they are gone forever.

This is the future the Palouse is facing—a landscape defined not by its natural beauty but by the industrial sprawl of wind turbines. Over 45 towering structures, each nearly 700 feet tall, will dominate the horizon if the Harvest Hills project moves forward. These machines won’t just change the view; they’ll redefine what the Palouse is, turning an iconic region into yet another casualty of shortsightedness.
For what?
The promises of Harvest Hills Wind and the Vestas marketing team sound noble, but they ring hollow when you examine the details. The power generated by these turbines won’t stay in the Palouse; it’s destined for far-off markets. The profits won’t flow to the communities here but to institutional investors in distant cities. And the moderately greener energy mix comes at the cost of the land itself—its beauty, its wildlife, its farmland, and its soul. The turbines won’t stop turning, even as the people who built them move on, leaving nothing but scars on a once-perfect view.
This isn’t just about turbines. It’s about what kind of legacy we want to leave. Do we want to be the generation that traded something irreplaceable for promises we can’t see and dollars we’ll never touch? Or do we want to be the ones who stood up and said, “This far, no further”?
The Palouse is worth fighting for. Its hills, its views, its quiet dignity—these are treasures that belong to everyone who has stood on Kamiak Butte and felt awe, and to everyone who will come after us.
If we lose them, we lose more than a view. We lose a piece of ourselves.
But this story isn’t finished. There’s still time to act, to protect the Palouse from the industrial sprawl threatening to overwhelm it. Future generations don’t have to ask what the view used to look like. Together, we can ensure they will see it for themselves.
Join us in saying no to Harvest Hills. Because some things are worth saving—and the Palouse is one of them.
Please consider sharing this message with those you know who love the Palouse, and those who are charged with protecting it.
To Shane Roche, Tom Handy, Arthur Swannack, along with the Harvest Hills team:
As we reflect on the beauty of this land and the legacy we hope to leave for those who come after us, we ask you to pause and consider the weight of what’s at stake. The Palouse isn’t just a collection of hills and fields—it’s a place where time seems to stand still, where generations have found peace, and where the horizon reminds us of something eternal.
We know the world of contracts and profits doesn’t often make room for sentiment. But we also know that at the heart of every person is a desire to do what’s right. And tonight, we’re asking you to listen to that voice.
This isn’t just about turbines or land use. It’s about whether future generations will look out from Kamiak Butte and see the same unbroken beauty that we’ve been so privileged to inherit. It’s about whether those who stand where we stand now will feel the same sense of wonder and connection to something greater than themselves.
You have the power to make that possible. To preserve something priceless. To show that even in business, there is room for heart—for values that transcend the immediate and the material.
So today, we ask you: Please, have the courage to choose preservation over progress, stewardship over short-term gain, and legacy over convenience. The Palouse needs you to care, to see its beauty for what it truly is, and to help protect it for those who will come after us.
We believe you can do that. And we hope you will.
We need new Commissioners. Vote in the next election.
This most beautiful, peaceful, unique place should not accept the visual pollution of wind turbines. Preserve these views and the serene quality of life mother nature has provided.