Here's the view from my kitchen window on a typical spring or summer morning. Brilliant sunlight dappled through sycamores onto green lawn. I never tire of seeing it while I make coffee in my quasi Edward Hopper reverie. My neighborhood, as best as I can tell, was established around 1922. Before that it was California scrub. The little yellow house in the picture was here before mine —which was built in '27, the same year movies began to talk. I realize using the motion picture industry as a yardstick for one's neighborhood is a little odd but I do live in Hollywood.