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Europeans have enjoyed it for years. Now, through careful state interventions and creative salesmanship from startups, Americans are close to having their turn.

For U.S. consumers, going solar is usually a major undertaking, involving tens of thousands of dollars, months of logistics, a slew of financing options, and ever-changing incentives.
But in Germany, upwards of a million customers — homeowners and renters alike — are simply plugging in small, affordable solar arrays to standard power outlets. These small systems are, by law, 800 watts or less, a fraction of the size of a typical rooftop solar system in the U.S. Often called “balcony solar,” these panels can live essentially anywhere with sufficient sunlight: on balconies or patios, or mounted on exterior walls or flat rooftops.
But while governments across the EU have simplified regulations to make installation a quick, DIY process, and utility approval little more than a formality — unleashing a wave of consumer demand in the process — the U.S. has so far failed to follow suit. Here, utility regulations prohibit customers from feeding power back into the grid without a formal interconnection agreement, a process that involves lots of time and paperwork.
Utilities in the U.S. want to account for all electricity sources on the grid, since theoretically, even small plug-in systems could have a cumulative impact on local voltage and power quality, whereas in Germany, for example, this is less of a concern. There, plug-in solar-specific policy caps these systems’ generating capacity, and the grid and metering infrastructure has been more extensively modernized to handle distributed energy generation.
Now, however, there are a number of domestic plug-in solar startups finding creative ways to navigate the constraints of the U.S. market. One of them, the nonprofit Bright Saver, announced on Wednesday that it’s raised $500,000 in new funding from TrueVentures.org and a handful of individual backers. The company gets around power export regulations by selling panels with very low wattage. “So we’re talking 200- or 220-watt systems that never backfeed to the grid, because we think close to every typical household will consume that electricity immediately, simply with the refrigerator,” Cora Stryker, the company’s co-founder, told me.
The San Francisco-based startup has sold a couple dozen systems already and has a waitlist of about 1,500 people, Stryker said. So far, she told me, the majority of this “early adoption crowd” is mainly interested in reducing their own emissions. “We think that’ll change over time,” she said. “The mass adoption in Germany has been driven not by that climate-conscious crowd, but really people who want to save money.”
The main drawback to Bright Saver’s approach, however, is also what makes it possible in the first place: the panels’ incredibly small size, which can’t come close to covering a home’s full power needs. So while the upfront cost of a 200-watt panel is small — $399 at the moment — a customer’s energy savings will also be tiny — potentially on the order of just a few bucks per month. Depending on the location, the savings will eclipse the total cost in about five to 10 years, Stryker told me.
That might not be enticing enough to convince a critical mass of customers to jump onboard the small-scale solar train. But Stryker thinks that getting these products out into the world will help catalyze the type of curiosity and interest that can dovetail into policy change. “Selling product in the next year or two is a small revenue stream for us, but it’s also our theory of change,” she told me. “These need to get out there in order for people to know they even exist.”
Much of Bright Saver’s work involves advocating for easing plug-in solar regulations, which is already starting to happen, bit by bit. In March, the Utah state legislature unanimously passed a bill creating a new category for “small portable solar generation devices” under 1,200 watts, exempting them from interconnection requirements. Stryker told me that Utah’s governor was inspired to introduce the bill after reading a story in The New York Times about balcony solar’s success in Germany.
Now more states, including Vermont, Maryland, and Pennsylvania, are expressing interest in similar legislation. If just a few more get onboard, Stryker told me that would be a critical tipping point. “We’ve had conversations with manufacturers and investors who tell us straight up, they’re not coming to the U.S. market because they see only one state where they’re not going to run into these regulatory concerns,” she said. “They tell us privately, five to seven more states and they’re in. So that’s a key threshold for us.”
But one veteran of the plug-in solar market, Craftstrom, isn’t betting on this happening. The company has been selling 400- to 800-watt systems in Europe since 2017, and expanded into the U.S. a few years later, targeting markets where electricity prices are highest, like California and the Northeast. To deal with domestic regulations, the company patented a new type of meter to be placed inside electric panels that blocks excess power from flowing back into the grid. This prevention mechanism also allows the company to sell larger systems — up to 2,000 watts — in the U.S.
Craftstrom’s chief revenue officer, Ken Hutchings, thinks this type of system is critical for grid safety in the U.S., where distribution networks tend to be older and less standardized than in Europe, and not necessarily built for two-way power flow. This opens up utilities to a good deal of legal liability in the case of equipment failures.
While Hutchings wouldn’t necessarily be surprised to see other states following Utah’s lead, he’s skeptical that the U.S. will become a haven for plug-in solar anytime soon — or even that it’s a good idea. “There’s no risk to one or two guys pushing power back into the grid,” he told me. “But when you have thousands and thousands of people doing it, tens of thousands, and the electric company is not sure who’s doing it, I think that’s where the issue lies.”
Thus far, Craftstrom has sold about 4,000 units in the U.S., with about 500 of those orders coming in the past month alone, Hutchings told me. He attributed the sudden uptick largely to a rush of customers trying to qualify for home energy efficiency tax credits — which he said Craftstrom’s systems are eligible for — before they expire at year’s end.
Craftstrom’s domestic prices are still more expensive than what its own customers in Europe can expect to pay for similar systems due to the extra hardware costs that come along with the specialized meters, as well as the fact that installing these products is not a DIY operation. That means Utah customers should now enjoy the same price relief, since the new state law lifts the grid restrictions that the rest of the U.S. faces. These days, Craftstrom’s more complex hardware plus the cost of labor “just about doubles the cost from what you’re able to get in Utah,” Stryker told me.
Bright Saver sold Craftstrom’s systems when it first started out earlier this year, but chose to discontinue this offering as it “didn’t serve our vision of making this accessible to everyone through cost and self-installation,” Stryker told me. Instead, the organization is focusing on policy changes that will make cheap self-install systems in the 800-watt range feasible in more states. And that means getting legislators onboard with some degree of deregulation, something Stryker acknowledges “has often been a dirty word” in the environmental movement.
“In this case, we need these regulations to get out of the way. They’re outdated. They’re artifacts,” she told me, referring to the requirement that small plug-in systems sign utility interconnection agreements. “I see it as a purple narrative, one that can appeal to values across the political spectrum — energy independence, energy affordability, renters’ rights.”
Of course, Stryker isn’t advocating for complete anarchy in the space. Grid stability is still a concern, and she said that Bright Saver is involved in discussions with regulators and standard-setting bodies to determine acceptable wattage thresholds. Countries that have embraced balcony solar in Europe have “impeccable” safety records, Stryker told me, enabling Germany to raise its wattage limit from 600 to 800 watts at the beginning of last year.
There are still some logistics to work out though. As the recent Utah law is written, plug-in solar arrays must comply with product standards from Underwriters Laboratories, a safety certification body. And while this organization has standards covering the individual components of plug-in solar systems, it has yet to create a systems-level standard. Depending on whom you ask, that might mean all domestic companies in the space are operating in a bit of a regulatory gray area at the moment.
Stryker told me she expects these system-wide standards to be released soon though, ideally in tandem with more bills like the one passed in Utah. “We think it’s a no-brainer.”
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I’m writing from Washington, D.C., today, after having the privilege of watching (and moderating) Heatmap’s second Energy Entrepreneurship Summit this morning. We heard from folks leading in a variety of technologies — geothermal, batteries, fusion, conventional nuclear — but I was struck by a few common themes.
The first was the new wave of excitement about fusion energy and how, in some ways, the artificial intelligence boom has reinvigorated the fusion conversation. Much like fusion, AI was a long-prophesied technology that made steady, iterative improvements over time — and then, one day, delivered a transformative product in the form of ChatGPT. I’m not sure if fusion has yet had a raw technological improvement on par with the transformer, the neural network innovation that preceded today’s AI chatbots and agents, but fusion startups have reported significant improvements in recent years. The industry believes — as do some fusion-pilled policymakers — that they will have commercial reactors on the grid by the mid-2030s.
The second is the degree to which surging electricity demand is pushing forward clean energy across the board. Although many (but not all) hyperscalers prefer to buy clean energy, the raw demand for power is fueling confidence among energy developers and technologists of all stripes. It’s great to make a commodity whose price is rising. At some point, this link between AI and electricity may become turbulent for developers — but we’re not there yet.
The final note is the degree to which U.S.-China competition now dominates conversations around the energy industry and the economy more broadly. I can remember a time when it was somewhat peculiar to point out that some forms of energy prowess strengthened the country’s national security — and that if the U.S. did not work those muscles, then China would. There was little overlap between the clean energy and security conversations. Now, the rise of globally competitive Chinese “electrotech” firms such as BYD, Xiaomi, and CATL has almost united the two discourses.
There is a growing recognition, too, that America will have to reindustrialize to compete. Policymakers sometimes talk about how the U.S. should use its (for now) still strong R&D apparatus to develop “leapfrog” technologies that can surpass Chinese products. But as America has by now repeatedly discovered, simply inventing a new technology is not enough. Creating an export industry — not to mention a business — actually requires commercializing that technology and scaling it. And that will entail the rudiments of an advanced industrial economy: more hardware factories, a larger grid, more manufacturing and process engineers.
These concerns over basic competitiveness colored discussions of even the most advanced technologies. Jackie Siebens, a vice president at the fusion startup Helion, said she was worried that fusion is going to “follow a story we’ve seen before,” where the United States demonstrates fusion first, “but China scales much more broadly.” Representative Don Beyer, a Democrat from Virginia who champions fusion, brought up a more fundamental concern: China is graduating hundreds of nuclear PhD engineers every year, he said, while America is only graduating a few dozen.
If affordability makes up one half of our new energy era, then these questions around competitiveness might be the other half. We’ll explore them, I’m sure, in the future. For now, thanks, as always, for reading.
Our latest Heatmap Pro poll found one big reason why public support for data centers has plummeted.
Americans’ support for data centers cratered over the past nine months. Rising electricity prices are a big part of the reason.
A Heatmap Pro poll conducted in May found that seven in 10 Americans would oppose a data center being built near where they live, up from four in 10 when we asked the same question in August 2025. We also polled people on mounting electricity costs, providing them with about a dozen potential explanations for the surge in prices and asking whether they blame each one “a lot,” “a little,” or “not at all.”
Here, too, the shift in sentiment was definitive. More than half of respondents blamed the construction of new data centers “a lot,” up from just 28% in August, making it the top concern on the list. In the earlier poll, “more demand for electricity overall” — a related issue — received the most blame, while construction of new data centers specifically sat near the bottom of the list.
Whether data centers deserve all this blame is complicated. Electricity prices were already rising before the race to power artificial intelligence began in earnest. According to Heatmap and MIT’s Electricity Price Hub, the national average price rose 21% from November 2020 to November 2022, when ChatGPT was first released to the public. Utilities have been raising rates to cover the cost of maintaining and upgrading the aging power grid, but the drivers are also region-specific. In the West, rates are rising because of wildfire insurance and mitigation efforts such as burying powerlines. (Interestingly, Americans blamed rising costs less on extreme weather, such as wildfires and heat waves, in our latest poll than they did last summer.)
As for what Americans think is driving those costs, our polling results were fairly consistent across regions. Construction of new data centers topped the list everywhere except in the West, where “the oil and gas industry” received one percentage point more blame, while the oil and gas industry came in a close second in the Midwest and Northeast. In the South, the war in Iran ranked second in respondents’ minds. We did, however, see a divide between urban and rural respondents, with slightly more urban residents who considered “the Trump administration and Republicans,” “the oil and gas industry,” and “the war in Iran” to be the major drivers of power prices than data centers.
Though data centers are not the only culprit, they have contributed to higher prices in a few areas, most notably in the PJM electricity market. Market experts warn that this trend will become widespread as the buildout progresses unless lawmakers and regulators make changes to protect residential customers.
“The projected growth in data center demand is beyond anything (short of wartime industries) ever asked of the American power sector,” Travis Kavulla, the head of policy at Base Power Company, wrote in a recent essay for American Affairs. That requires a new market structure, he argued at a Heatmap News event on Wednesday. Rather than the first-come-first served interconnection queue, he advocated for an “open season” model. “It’s a process whereby the incremental cost of building out the grid is mechanically assigned to the incremental load growth,” he explained, “whereas otherwise it might be socialized broadly across consumers — and in a time of increasing inflationary prices, that would lead to a lot of cross-subsidization. It’s both a speed to power thing and a customer affordability thing.”
As my colleague Jael Holzman has reported, state leaders have generally been more inclined to explore regulatory fixes to the problem of rising electricity prices than to enact moratoria on new data center construction, the preferred path for many grassroots activists who oppose data centers. States such as Oregon and Vermont have already passed rules that aim to protect ratepayers from data center expansion, and many more states have introduced bills to do the same.
“The public isn’t opposed to data centers, they’re opposed to paying for them on their power bill,” Sarah Hunt, the president and CEO of the right-leaning Rainey Center, told Jael in a separate story about how data centers are splintering the Republican Party. The Rainey Center’s own polling found that telling voters about policies such as President Trump’s Ratepayer Protection Pledge, a voluntary pact signed by big tech companies that agree to pay the full cost of connecting data centers to the grid, made them more likely overall to support AI data centers.
Heatmap’s polling found that blame toward data centers is escalating at about the same rate among all political parties, roughly doubling across the board. Among Republicans, 40% of those who identify as MAGA blamed data centers “a lot,” while 45% of those who identify as non-MAGA did. Democrats were generally more fervent, with 62% assigning major responsibility to data centers.
One other consistent feature in our polling is that both opposition to and blame for data centers is strongest among young people aged 18-34. Blame for data centers declined as respondents got older, with 67% of the youngest cohort pointing the finger most strongly at data centers compared to 44% of those over 65. (Aging Americans’ primary culprit for higher prices? An aging electrical grid.)
The Heatmap Pro poll of 4,118 American registered voters was conducted by Embold Research via text-to-web responses from May 15 to 28, 2026. The survey included interviews with Americans in all 50 states and Washington, D.C. The margin of sampling error is plus or minus 1.6 percentage points.
It’s already been an historic year for wildfires. Even if your community doesn’t burn, you might still be in for hazy air.
The nation will mark an unhappy anniversary next week: the worst day for wildfire pollution exposure in U.S. history. On June 7, 2023, the skies over the Acela Corridor turned a sickly mustard yellow due to smoke pouring south from fires in northern Quebec; New York City recorded its unhealthiest ever score on the Air Quality Index at 484, more than 300 points above what’s considered healthy. In the years since, we’ve come to better understand the dangers of such “smoke events.” A study published earlier this year by researchers at UCLA was the first to estimate deaths specifically from long-term exposure to wildfire smoke, finding that it kills more than 24,000 people in the U.S. every year — more people than murderers.
The 2026 wildfire season is already one for the books. Fires had burned 2.4 million acres in the U.S. as of Monday, nearly double the 10-year average for the start of June. And the months ahead don’t look good — about 17% of the country is already in extreme drought, and an all-but-certain El Niño will bring warmer, drier conditions to the already volatile Northwest and suppress or delay monsoon precipitation elsewhere.
Where the smoke from any of the resulting fires actually goes is far less predictable, however, subject to impossible-to-forecast factors such as when there are human-caused ignitions, how big the fire is, what the winds are doing on a given day or even hour, and how much moisture is in the air, among other micro-factors. What’s actually burning makes a difference, too: trees, logs, and dense forest floor litter, called duff, have more mass than the flash-burning grasses of the Plains, meaning forest fires produce more soot and ash for distribution. “Literally, that is where the heavy emissions come from to get lofted with the intensity of a ground fire,” Pete Lahm, the branch chief for smoke at the U.S. Forest Service and the leader of the Interagency Wildlife Fire Air Quality Response Program, told me.
The current Fort Smith fire in the boreal forest of Canada is an example of how difficult it is to predict smoke exposure. Although northern Canada had a good snow year — which should in theory suppress major fires up there — there was a small pocket of dryness around Wood Buffalo National Park that ignited, ballooned into an almost 40,000-acre fire, and sent high-altitude smoke as far south as Chicago last week. Or take those wildfires in Quebec in 2023, which sent particulate matter as far south as Florida.
“The smoke went out to sea and came back in,” Lahm said of that event. “Who would have thought about that?”
As Will Barrett, the assistant vice president for nationwide clean air policy at the American Lung Association, told me, “No part of the country is immune from the impacts of climate change and the threat of increased pollution.” It’s always best to check your local air quality (which reflects a lot more than just wildfire particulates) and the national fire and smoke map when in doubt.
Much has already been said by now about the lack of snow in the Western U.S. “This year’s peak snowpack will be the new benchmark low for Wyoming, Utah, Colorado, and New Mexico,” reads the latest National Integrated Drought Information System report from the middle of May. “There are no comparable years.” Idaho, too, has “no historical comparison” for its lack of snow. In the Cascade Mountains and northern Sierras, where some of the country’s worst wildfires have historically occurred, many drought monitoring stations are likewise recording only trace amounts of snow.
Normally, melting snow helps stave off wildfire ignitions through the spring and early summer. When the snow melts too early — or isn’t there in the first place — the potential for explosive wildfires creeps higher much sooner. Forests also just have a lot of stuff — large trees, brushy undergrowth, forest floor leaf litter, homes and cars — which generates a lot of soot and ash.
In the southern half of Nevada and Utah, fuels are already “near or exceeding record dry levels,” per the latest National Significant Wildland Fire Potential Outlook, updated on Monday. What’s more, “Some of the fires are burning in the heavier fuels and timber of higher elevations, which is very unusual for late May” — and causes more smoke than grasses or chaparral.
The report also shows that above-average significant wildfire potential will consume almost the entire northwest corner of the U.S. — all of Washington, Oregon, Idaho, and southwest Montana — by August, and continue into September. The conditions resemble those of 2015, which turned out to be one of the worst fire seasons in Pacific Northwest history, the agency said. Everyone in the region is at risk from local wildfire smoke, regardless of what drifts in from other places.
“If California were to get active, Idaho and parts of Oregon can get slammed with that smoke,” Lahm told me. “Occasionally, with fires in the mid-Sierras, you’ll start to see impacts in Salt Lake City.” That’s especially true when there is above-normal plant growth in the Sacramento Valley and Sierra foothills, as there is this year. (“One sampling site in the Sierra Foothills,” the interagency report found, “recorded the second highest amount of growth in the 43-year period of record.”)
Lahm added a note of potential optimism to the smoke forecast in the West, pointing out that California is not in a severe drought at the moment. Southern California, home of the costliest fire in U.S. history last year, could be spared almost entirely thanks to the expected El Niño-induced above-average rainfall. “Maybe we won’t get the smoke from California this year,” Lahm allowed, before adding, “but California can get drier.”
The fire season is already well underway in the Southwest, with the airplane-crash-ignited Seven Cabins Fire in New Mexico the biggest active wildfire in the U.S. at 29,000 acres. Local air quality impacts are significant enough that the Forest Service already has air resource advisors involved, but Lahm told me long-range smoke impacts aren’t expected.
The southern and southeastern U.S. can sometimes feel repercussions from fires burning on the West Coast, though. “If we have a good Pacific Rim season, while really volume driven, there have actually been impacts in Louisiana, occasionally,” Lahm said.
Spring fires in Georgia and Florida have burned down into the duff, or “gone underground,” and could reemerge again in the coming months. Late May’s rainstorms could theoretically help curb fires in the Southeast, at least through the early summer. But forecasts show conditions drying out by late summer — El Niño increases wind shear, interrupting hurricane formation in the Atlantic basin and suppressing the tropical storms that normally keep the region wet through the hottest months of the year. Downed trees and brush from Hurricane Helene in 2024 remain an ongoing fire hazard, especially if they dry out.
The smoke in the Midwest isn’t usually of the homegrown variety, but being downwind of Canada and the western U.S. has made it no stranger to haze and red sunsets. According to the American Lung Association’s 2026 State of the Air report, which looks at the period from 2022-2024, “most of the Midwest” was “seriously impacted by high levels of ozone,” in part due to the “ozone-forming pollutants” generated when wildfire smoke interacts with urban air.
The snow conditions in Canada this year thankfully haven’t followed the pattern in the western U.S., and if things stay relatively wet up north, then it’s less likely the Midwest will experience the boreal wildfire smoke it may otherwise have grown accustomed to. But “say that smoke that came down from the [Fort Smith] fire decided to hit the ground in Chicago” last week, Lahm speculated to me. “It certainly would have probably contributed to [air quality] numbers above the standard, and if you’re sensitive and you’re not ready, then it’s a big deal.”
Because poor air quality often stems from fires burning in other places — which thus are often not top of mind — watching local air quality reports is especially important in the Midwest. No, the Fort Smith smoke didn’t hit Chicago last week, but it could have. More than any other region, the Midwest is a wildcard for smoke impacts.
Like the Midwest, the Northeast is often the victim of smoke from faraway fires. In 2025, for example, there were what Lahm described as “light impacts” in New York and Washington, D.C., from fires in Quebec, Ontario, and the Western U.S. “because of the volume of fire material being burned.” So far, though, the National Significant Wildland Fire Potential Outlook shows normal fire potential for the Mid-Atlantic region through September with “brief periods of elevated fire danger during windy days that follow dry periods.”
But as I’ve written before, the fire conditions in the East are also changing. The region has seen a 10-fold jump in the frequency of large burns over the past four decades. In fact, almost nowhere better represents the ability of local fires to cause unpredictable regional impacts than the East, where a likely human-caused fire in Brooklyn’s Prospect Park in 2024 sent particulate matter into surrounding neighborhoods.
If smoke defies long-range forecasts, then, the best method is to expect it and be pleasantly surprised if it doesn’t arrive. For most people, that means shaking off any leftover baggage you have around mask-wearing from the COVID-era and keeping a few N95s in the glove box. It also means knowing you’re at risk in the first place. Children under 18, adults over 65, and anyone who is pregnant or has a pre-existing respiratory or heart condition should be especially attuned to their local air quality. For those groups, having extra inhalers on hand or postponing a run could save a life.
“There are not a lot of places in the U.S. where being ready for some degree of smoke exposure, if you’re at risk, doesn’t make sense,” Lahm said. “It’s just good preparation. We keep a flashlight for when the lights go out in our homes — we need to look at smoke the same way.”