I cannot imagine living in a rural setting. I love the city lights too much.
When I was a girl, visiting my grandma (just a few blocks from where I live now) I loved looking out over the city lights from her hill top home. The shape of the interstate and other roads looked like a Christmas tree to me. I still drive down that street occasionally just to see that view.
From my house, in the winter, when the leaves have fallen, I can see the city lights I can watch the New Year’s Eve fireworks that happen downtown. (In the summer the trees are so thick, there is only an occasional twinkle, and although we can hear the summer fireworks at the ballpark, we can only see an occasional glimmer.)
I like the look of the neighborhood homes – different styles and eras, all on the same street. No homeowners’ association to control what color(s) you can paint your house. Renters and owners all on the same street.
And I love the look of the families, families of every color – and families that include every color. At the local grade school, no one considered it odd that my daughter and I were not the same color. I like that.
There are some sad sights in the neighborhood: vulgar graffiti, an occasional vacant house – but the good sights outnumber the sad.