Returning to Berkeley from Monterey Saturday night, I realized how similar the views east on the 101 north near Morgan Hill were to those on the 880 north near Alameda. In both instances, a faint outline of hills could be seen to the east, tall and somewhat foreboding.
But in Morgan Hill, the hills were illuminated by lights in the sky. In Alameda, the hills were illuminated by lights on the hills.
And then I envisioned an Alameda as rural as Morgan Hill – and I realized the views would be almost the same. And I was humbled, because I saw the immense transformation humans had brought on the world, their lights and their civilization, that had changed forever the pristine hills that iconify northern California’s beauty.