LA’s Cure for Cabin Fever

I get cabin fever far too easily.  I blame it on Los Angeles.  After almost eight years of living here, I admit that I’m — for lack of a better term — a pussy when it comes to the weather.  This was a hearty Midwest girl who used to wander out in the snow wearing a sweatshirt, scarf and sneakers.  Nowadays, below 60 temperatures or any sort of precipitation will drive me indoors, where you will find me swathed in my thickest pajamas and Trojan Snuggie, huddled in front of the space heater.

Yes, I am ashamed.

January and early February’s colder temperatures and unusually frequent spates of rain have only worsened the cabin fever.   I began to daydream of New Zealand, Argentina, South Africa and other countries of the now-summertime Southern Hemisphere.

But just last week, the clouds receded, the smog cleared and the most brilliant sun cast its merciful rays on southern California.  In the middle of February.

For Valentine’s Day, Robby and I skipped out on Amateur Night at the restaurants and soaked in the 77-degree weather at Will Rogers State Historic Park in the Pacific Palisades.  We hiked the Inspiration Loop Trail, a rather tame but scenic trail around the park.

Families were milling about the park, picnicking on the lush grounds and playing pick-up soccer on the polo field.  Young future equestrians practiced jumps at the stables, while their non-riding comrades fed bits of hay to the horses.

Under any other circumstances, in any other city and in any other season, this is a portrait of extreme ordinariness.  But then you think, it’s the middle of February.

Sometimes you just need to be reminded that you live in one of the greatest cities in the world.

View more photos on Flickr.