Learning to Live with Darkness Again: Why We Need to Stop Lighting Up Everything Outside

When my wife and I first moved into this house back in ’87, the previous owners had installed one of those big security floodlights on the garage. The thing could practically illuminate half the neighborhood when it kicked on. We never thought much about it – that’s just what you did for safety, right? Light up your property so you could see what was going on.

I remember my father telling stories about summer evenings when he was a kid, sitting on the porch after dark, watching fireflies in the yard. My wife and I used to wonder why we never saw fireflies around here. Took me decades to figure out that our bright lights were probably driving them away.

It wasn’t until a few years ago, when I started reading about these “dark sky” communities, that I began to understand how much our outdoor lighting was actually working against the natural world we were trying to connect with. I’d been making all these modifications to help my wife spend more time in the garden and greenhouse, bringing more nature into our daily routine. But every night, we were blasting that nature with artificial light that disrupted everything from bird migration to our own sleep patterns.

The whole concept made sense once I thought about it. We evolved to live with natural cycles of light and dark. So did all the wildlife we’re trying to attract to our yards. But somewhere along the line, we got convinced that more light was always better – safer, more convenient, more civilized.

I started researching what they call “dark sky biophilic design,” which is basically the idea that respecting natural darkness is just as important as bringing in natural light during the day. It’s not about making your property pitch black and dangerous. It’s about being smarter with how you light things so you can still be safe and functional while not destroying the natural nighttime environment.

The first thing I did was replace that garage floodlight with something more reasonable. Found fixtures that direct light downward instead of spraying it everywhere, installed motion sensors so they only come on when needed, and switched to warmer color bulbs that are less disruptive to wildlife. The difference was immediate.

Within a few weeks, we started seeing bats in the evening for the first time in years. My wife noticed it first – she was sitting in her accessible garden area at dusk and saw them swooping around catching insects. Then we started seeing fireflies again. Not tons of them like my father described from his childhood, but enough to know they were returning to the neighborhood.

What surprised me most was how much I enjoyed being outside after dark once my eyes could actually adjust to natural light levels. When you’re constantly surrounded by bright artificial lights, your pupils never properly dilate. You miss so much detail and texture that’s visible in moonlight and starlight if you give your vision a chance to adapt.

I started spending more evening time in the yard, especially during the summer. There’s something peaceful about sitting outside when it’s quiet and dark, listening to sounds you don’t notice during the day, feeling textures and temperatures more acutely because your vision isn’t dominating your other senses.

My wife found this too. On clear nights, I’d help her get positioned in her wheelchair on our accessible path, and we’d spend time just listening to the night sounds, watching for meteor showers, identifying constellations. It became a routine we both looked forward to, especially during Michigan’s long winters when we spent too much time cooped up inside.

The practical side took some figuring out. I kept minimal path lighting for safety, especially the routes my wife needs to navigate in her wheelchair. But I made sure those lights were shielded and pointed downward. I used reflective materials – light-colored pavers and stepping stones – that catch and amplify whatever natural light is available from the moon and stars.

For the areas where we spend time after dark, I installed low-voltage lighting with dimmer controls, so we could adjust brightness depending on what we were doing and what the natural light conditions were. Motion sensors in spots where we might need more light occasionally but didn’t want it blazing all night.

The energy savings were noticeable on our electric bill, which matters when you’re living on a fixed retirement income. But the bigger benefit was how much more connected we felt to the natural rhythms of our property. You notice seasonal changes differently when you’re not overriding them with constant artificial light. The way moonlight moves across the yard throughout the month. How different weather conditions affect natural nighttime visibility.

I shared what I’d learned with some friends from church who were dealing with similar aging-in-place challenges. Several of them were interested in spending more time outdoors but found their current lighting either too harsh and unwelcoming or non-existent and unsafe.

We worked together to modify their setups – nothing fancy or expensive, just smarter use of the outdoor lighting they already had. Redirecting fixtures that were pointed up into the sky. Adding motion sensors to reduce constant illumination. Replacing bright white bulbs with warmer colors that are easier on aging eyes and less disruptive to wildlife.

One neighbor, Tom, was initially skeptical about reducing his outdoor lighting. He’d always believed that bright lights deterred crime and made his property safer. But after I showed him some articles about how harsh lighting actually creates more hiding spots by creating deep shadows, and how motion-activated lights are often more effective for security than constant illumination, he agreed to try some changes.

Now Tom’s one of the biggest advocates for this approach in our neighborhood. His grandkids love visiting because they can actually see stars from his backyard and watch for fireflies in the summer. “I never realized what we were missing,” he told me. “All those years of washing out the night sky with floodlights, and for what?”

The accessibility angle is important for people our age. I had to make sure that reducing outdoor lighting didn’t create safety hazards for my wife or visitors who might have vision or mobility issues. The key is strategic placement and the right kind of fixtures.

Low-level path lighting that clearly defines walkways without creating glare. Contrasting materials that help define edges and changes in elevation. Motion-activated lighting in key areas like entryways and the accessible route to the garden. Backup lighting on dimmers that can be increased when needed but kept minimal most of the time.

What I’ve learned is that this isn’t about going back to some pre-electric era where you stumble around in complete darkness. It’s about using artificial lighting thoughtfully, in ways that serve genuine human needs without overwhelming the natural environment we’re trying to connect with.

The research I’ve read suggests that this approach has real health benefits for older adults. Better sleep patterns when you’re not exposed to bright lights in the evening. Improved circadian rhythms. Reduced eye strain. And the psychological benefits of feeling more connected to natural cycles instead of fighting against them.

I’ve been documenting the changes we’ve made and sharing them with other retirees who are interested in aging in place while staying connected to the natural world. It’s not complicated or expensive – mostly just rethinking how we use outdoor lighting we already have.

The wildlife response has been the most rewarding part. We now have regular visits from owls, bats, and night-flying insects that support the birds and other animals we see during the day. My wife’s garden attracts evening pollinators we never used to see. The whole ecosystem in our yard feels more balanced and active.

Last month, our daughter visited and was amazed at the difference. She remembered our yard as bright and sterile after dark – not a place where you’d want to spend time. Now it feels welcoming but also wild, connected to something larger than just our property lines.

She’s been implementing some of these ideas at her own house, especially since she has young kids who’ve never really experienced natural darkness. “I want them to know what stars look like,” she said. “And fireflies. And all the things we took for granted before we lit up everything.”

That’s really what this is about – not going backward, but being smarter about how we live within natural systems instead of constantly overriding them. Our outdoor spaces can be safe and functional and accessible while still respecting the cycles of light and dark that every living thing depends on.

For those of us aging in place, creating outdoor environments that work with natural rhythms instead of against them isn’t just about helping wildlife – though that’s important. It’s about maintaining our own connection to the natural world as our mobility and energy change. It’s about creating spaces where we can continue to experience wonder and beauty and the deep satisfaction of being part of something larger than ourselves.

Some evenings, my wife and I sit outside after dark, listening to the night sounds, watching the sky change color as twilight fades to full darkness. We can see Jupiter and Venus when they’re visible. We hear owls calling from the old oak trees down the street. Occasionally we catch the streak of a meteor or satellite passing overhead.

These are the same sights and sounds that humans have experienced for thousands of years – but only if we don’t wash them out with unnecessary artificial light. Creating space for natural darkness in our yards and communities isn’t about giving up modern conveniences. It’s about remembering that we’re part of the natural world, even in suburbia, even as we age, even with all our modifications and accommodations.

The darkness isn’t something to fear or eliminate. It’s something to learn to live with again, thoughtfully and safely, in ways that enrich our lives instead of diminishing them.