From Harry Hussey:

You may know me as the host of the open-mic nights at the Copake Grange. Just a few years ago, this agriculture-based community organization was about to close its doors. Most of the community is no longer rooted in agriculture, but the community rallied to preserve this part of our history. The Copake Grange has emerged as a changed and thriving organization responding to the wider needs of a more diverse community. I believe most of us view this as positive change. But what should we do with change that we do not choose and may not want — specifically the proposed Shepherd's Run solar project?

When my wife and I first started coming to Copake, we would drive on Route 7 to get to Route 23 on the way to Hudson. I remember cruising down that road on hot summer days, cornfields flanking us, that red barn on the right, and straight ahead of us a majestic oak tree. For a couple of years, that tree encapsulated rural beauty for me. There was something perfect about it. But then it lost a limb, and another, and then another — and a few years ago, what remained was cut down. No more oak tree. That pastoral marker was gone, and I mourned it.

But I had to make my peace with change. For that tree, change carried itself out over a span of 20 years. Sometimes, if you're lucky, that's the way change works, titrating itself into your life so that its pain and disruption are easier to take. And sometimes change just falls on top of you.

That is probably the way it will be with Shepherd's Run. And we are all anticipating it. After the solar company gets the go-ahead, the project will go up in the space of a year. The whole valley alongside Route 7 will be solar panels. There will be trees and shrubs to try to hide them, but, let's face it, the area will look different.

For the houses bordering the area, the sense of place will change. Homeowners originally bought this land across the road from cornfields. Now it'll be black shiny things. But I feel for future generations too. Putting solar panels and/or windmills on farmland (as opposed to other ways that farmland is being developed) just could be what best preserves this as farmland for our children and grandchildren, as we develop better ways to power the world.

When I look at the devastation from floods and fires in the American West, and I see Antarctica calving ice floes that are about twice the size of New York City, I can't help but believe we can do better. We are losing more species than at any time since the dinosaurs' unfortunate meteor encounter.

I grew up believing we had to work to take care of the earth. When I was growing up in the '60s, we would recycle newspapers and cans and bottles. It was just something we were taught had to be done. That was more than 50 years ago.

We knew then. This isn't news. And it's not sudden. We've had plenty of opportunity to do something. While there have been a growing movement and growing awareness of our imminent decline, we haven't really been able to step up to the plate. Sure, we could blame it on a relentless disinformation campaign by the fossil-fuel industry and its stakeholders, but, really, it's us. This is hard, and we don't want to make the sacrifices necessary to save the planet.

Doing the right thing is frequently a challenge.

To reach carbon neutrality in New York state by 2050, we will need to have solar panels on all parking lots, industrial buildings, every other house — and solar farms of 60 megawatts or larger around every electrical substation in the state. Even if we don't like particular aspects of what a solar company may be planning for a site near a substation, we need to go with it — because it means something is being built that will help stave off climate disaster. And we don't have a better idea on deck.

Our community is quite well off compared to many other rural areas. Other towns have opted to host industrial-size solar farms because they don't have the tax base to turn down the revenue these projects can bring in. So many of us are transplanted or retired New Yorkers who are not struggling. If we host this solar farm, it's not because we have to but because we want to. It's an opportunity for us to "think globally and act locally."

Is this farm going to save the world? Of course not. It's essentially a drop in the bucket. But it's like a vote: It won't make a difference all by itself, but combined with many others, it will get someone elected.