I live in a neighborhood that's calm on the ground for one that is part of the massive urban basin of Los Angeles and Orange Counties. People are out taking walks from dawn to dusk and mid-day. Few cars on the street give a feeling of open welcome to guests and residents. Many trees provide shade to cool lawns and homes from the strong sun. Neighbors look out for each other yet give space and privacy, too. A local park is a five-minute walk away to play baseball, basketball, tennis, or just relax on the expansive grass underneath a tree. My children's school is two blocks away. Shops are one street over. It is more walkable that other communities built within walls or out of former farmlands.

The skies above are a different story. While this photo shows a tranquil sunrise, at other times of the day or night the sky is busy with the violence and pollution of a giant metropolitan area.

Helicopters from the Sheriff's department circle almost daily to search for someone in the viaduct that has replaced the natural San Gabriel River nearby, or maybe to monitor an accident on the intersecting freeways. At night, their searchlights and the vibration from the rotating blades circling so tightly send me into alert mode, that maybe someone they're looking for will try to hide out by our home. Other helicopters include those from the local military base, a smaller community-funded one to track local crime like home robberies, and air ambulances that transfer patients to more or less intensive care.

We're outside the flight path of LAX airport, but I still see and hear planes of all sizes making circle patterns to ascend or descend in their journey. At night, a person can draw a line in the sky with all of the landing lights as the planes line up on their approach.

While the air pollution is not as bad as it was in the '70s, and my proximity to the Pacific Ocean giving a cleansing breeze from the South, I still yearn for the clean air of the mounains (when they're not on fire!).

What I mourn for most is the light pollution. On the best night, I can see the Big Dipper and Orion's belt. I drive 40 miles to see any special astronomical event like meteor showers, planetary convergances, etc. The Night Sky is our reminder that we are part of something so much bigger than even our vastly diverse planet. 

What can we do to make it a quieter, healthier, natural, and sater place above the land that is already a comfortable one to live in?