Parks, Planning, & Warning Signs
This blog features community commentary, editorial opinions, visual interpretations, and based on publicly available documents. Some images, whether labeled or stylized, are included for advocacy and awareness purposes. They may not represent final or official development plans.
Why Zoning Isn’t Just a Technicality, It’s a Warning Label
We have parks because of the zoning on the west side of Moreno Valley.
Ballfields. Picnic tables. Space to breathe.
The lots are small. The driveways are tight.
But that was part of the plan.
They built compact neighborhoods and gave families open space in return.
A trade. A system. A city that mostly worked.
Now come east.
No public parks.
No ballfields. No playgrounds.
Just wide lots, no sidewalks, and hills left untouched for a reason.
Not because the developers forgot.
Not because the city missed a spot.
But because nature made the call.
These foothills may look gentle, but they carry real risk.
Much of this area lies directly inside an active fault zone.
It’s also part of a designated fire hazard area and a known flash flood path.
This is where dry brush burns, where water rushes after storms, where the donkeys graze and rest.
You don’t need a zoning degree to know this isn’t safe ground.
And yet now, suddenly, that doesn’t seem to matter.
A developer wants to jam 350 high-density trailers into this fragile zone.
They penciled in sidewalks, just enough to snake between trailers.
No public parks. No open space. Nothing for the broader community.
Just gridlock on Locust Avenue and a flood of metal boxes where the hillside used to breathe.
Let’s be clear:
This isn’t growth. This is recklessness.
Nature already gave Moreno Valley room to grow.
The west side is full of neighborhoods that make sense, where infrastructure, parks, and roads were built to support density.
The east side gave us something else: balance.
A line we weren’t supposed to cross.
Because zoning isn’t dull, it’s life-or-death.
It shapes whether your kids grow up with grass under their feet or asphalt.
It decides whether fire engines can reach you or turn around.
It’s the difference between building a neighborhood and forcing one where it doesn’t belong.
We don’t need more sprawl.
We need to defend what’s left.
We’re not against growth. We’re against doing it in the one place it never belonged.
Let’s stop pretending the hills are blank space.
They’re habitat, watershed, & safety buffer.
They are where nature still gets to happen.
