Living on the Edge

The Edge Is a Teacher

Welcome to Part One of the “Living on the Edge” series.

This series is an exploration of what it means to live in the liminal zone—the ecotone—where two ecosystems meet. In our case, where urban habitat meets ecological wildness.

For those of us in fire-prone landscapes like Altadena, the edge is not just geography. It’s a state of mind, a spiritual practice, and a lived reality that asks much of us.

This first piece invites you to see the edge not as a danger zone to be managed, but as a teacher calling us back into relationship—with land, with season, with self.

Where Wild Meets Human

There is a place where the wild meets the human.
Where native scrub brushes up against wooden fences.
Where mountain winds slam into tiled roofs.
Where the desire for safety collides with the instinct to be close to something untamed.

This place is called the ecotone.

It’s not just an ecological term—it’s a threshold.
A zone of tension and richness, where two systems overlap.
Chaparral meets suburb. Oak woodland meets water meter. Fire meets fence post.

And this place—this edge—is a teacher.

Choosing the Edge

We chose to live here. For the views, the quiet, the thrill of proximity to wildness.

We didn’t just want to look at the mountain—we wanted to be part of it, to feel it, to come home and say:

This is where the wild things are, and I live here too.

But that choice carries responsibility. Living in the ecotone isn’t just a lifestyle—it’s a relationship.
And relationships require tending.

Leigh Adams assessing the abundance of a garden post-fire. Credit: Studio Petrichor

Lessons from the Edge

The edge teaches us that wildness is beautiful, yes—but also messy, unpredictable, seasonal, and, sometimes, dangerous.

That fire isn’t just a risk—it’s part of the curriculum.
That living with biodiversity means living with complexity—not just in your landscape, but in your psyche.

In the case of Altadena, the edge is real.
It’s where the Angeles National Forest slopes into a grid of homes—
some thoughtfully landscaped, others lined with concrete, turf, or synthetic solutions that break the essential connections between soil, root, and runoff.

But no matter how you define it—ecological, emotional, spiritual—
the edge is not a fixed line. It’s a meeting place. A conversation.

And when we stop listening to what the edge is trying to teach us, it finds new ways to get our attention. 

The Call to Remember

We build our lives right up against the threshold of fire, water, wind, and wildlife—and then wonder why it feels precarious.

But the edge doesn’t want us to be afraid.
It wants us to remember.

Remember that Nature moves. That change is constant.
That there is no such thing as a perfectly controlled outcome.

And that living here—at the edge—means learning how to be with it, not rule over it.

Living in the ecotone is not about retreating from wildness.
It’s about becoming fluent in it.
It’s about recognizing that the edge isn’t just out there—it’s in us. 

Belonging at the Threshold

There’s a reason so many of us are being called to live on this edge.

It’s not just remoteness and prettier views.
It’s something more ancient.

It’s the pull to reweave ourselves into the web of life.
To remember what it feels like to be attuned to the weather, the seasons, the smell of dry grass in the heat of September…

The edge teaches humility. Awe. Grief. Wonder.
It offers no guarantees, but it does offer belonging—if we’re willing to stay in the conversation.

Because ultimately, the edge is not a line we can control—
it’s a relationship we want to tend.

A White-lined Sphinx Moth visiting the garden at dusk, making it all about her. 

Photo credit: Studio Petrichor

An Invitation

The edge is not an obstacle—it’s an invitation.

When we choose to live here, at the meeting point of human and wild,
we are choosing complexity.

But we are also choosing richness, meaning, and connection.

If this piece stirred something in you, I invite you to share it—with a neighbor, a policymaker, a community member.

Let’s build a new story about what it means to live on the edge—and to listen deeply to what it’s teaching us.

Stay tuned for more on this.  And please share this newsletter with your community.  More recordings on this are in the works!

The edge is already speaking. The question is—how will you respond?