Riding home from work, west across the I-90 floating bridge, the lights of the houses sloping down toward the lake echoed the yellow-hued glow reflecting off the clouds over the city.

The color, I noticed: remember this yellow, because it’s not going to last. In thirty years’ time, Leschi and Mt. Baker will look pretty much the same, but the hue of their lights will have shifted. All of those incandescent bulbs are going to burn out, all of those sodium vapor streetlights will go – and the lights that replace them will be crisp white LEDs.

The kids of that generation will probably just assume that night skies always look weird in old pictures because the old people who took them had to deal with those hilariously antique cameras back then and they just couldn’t get the color right.