It was a late Monday night and I walked a visiting friend to her car. Suddenly, my companion looked up at the clear sky - the stars shimmering against the black night - and inhaled. "Wow, you don't have much light pollution around here," she admired. I had never heard that term before but agreed nonetheless taking in the distant stars and planets. I waved goodbye and went inside, leaving my porch light on.

We make our home on the crowded San Francisco Peninsula. Our houses and shops press together like clothes in a too-full closet. Our streets are a flurry of trucks, cars, bicycles, and buses. Farmers markets abound and a pristine, double decker train, CalTrain, totes us up to the City or down to San Jose. When I worked in San Francisco, years ago, I took the train regularly. On the ride,