A few times a week I cross the tracks into a gorgeous multi-million dollar neighborhood called Cheviot Hills. Leaving my apartment, I walk north under a freeway overpass, up a hill and into a small piece of paradise. Lush with trees, flower gardens, green lawns and peaceful fountains, it provides instant refreshment. It is always quiet and the birds are delightfully louder here; I am usually one of the few people walking around. Occasionally I see children playing on a front lawn or smell BBQ coming from a backyard but usually I feel like I have it all to myself. Just me and the birds. The houses are beautiful and I never get tired of looking at them as I walk. They vary in style; there are white American Colonial homes with stately columns and bright red doors. There are large, brown and white Tudor homes with tiny stained glass windows in odd places. There are bright-colored Spanish homes with tiled roofs and playful steps to each door. There are clean modern homes with large windows and ambiguous sculptures. There are English cottage homes surrounded by wild and magical gardens. Simply, this neighborhood is a feast for the eyes.

Aside from the lovely homes, the part of the walk that I look forward to most is the view of the cityscape rising above the trees at the gulf course which sits at the heart of this neighborhood. Like the part of a song that gets you every time, this is always the moment I savor. There is something particularly moving about seeing the buildings of Century City rise above the forest of trees at the Rancho Park golf course. It’s as though the city has found itself lost in time at the center of an ancient forest. The juxtaposition of the natural and modern worlds create a particular magic for me. These views are especially divine in the late afternoon. The pink and golden light of a Los Angeles sunset creates a soothing balm over a city that is otherwise anything but. I’m convinced that if not for the afternoon glow that overtakes the city each day, many of us would not still be here. It’s like a siren sweetly singing, whispering promises in your ear. Promises of possibility, fortune and fame. No matter how tough your day was, this pink golden light has a way of washing it all away and restoring hope. It’s either helping you or swindling you; it’s hard to tell.

Regardless, I am grateful for the proximity to such a lovely neighborhood. If a spell has been cast, it has lifted me for a moment beyond my worries and concerns and opened a window of new thoughts and inspiration. As I head back down the hill, under the freeway overpass and back into the urban sprawl below, in some small way, I am made new.

I am always surprised when I meet people living in Los Angeles who have not been to the Hollywood Reservoir. Not only have they not been, most of them have not even heard of it. When I heard there was a lake under the Hollywood sign, I got out there as fast as I could. Primarily because it seemed impossible; how could there be a lake under the Hollywood sign? When you look up at the hills it doesn’t look like it could possibly fit there, but it does, there is indeed a lake under the Hollywood sign. There is also a very convenient paved walking path and plenty of parking which is always an added bonus. I have been out here a number of times now and I am always amazed at how quiet it is. Unlike the hike at Runyon Canyon (which is a crowded spectacle akin to the Walk of Stars itself) the reservoir is much less trafficked. Just today I finally realized why it’s so quiet; there are no dogs allowed. I would imagine this deters most people, making it a surprising nature retreat in the heart of the city.

The reservoir is held by the Mulholland Dam which was built in 1924. There is something very noir about walking on the dam. The deco architecture invokes an earlier L.A. It’s Chinatown meets L.A. Confidential. You just know some scandalous things have happened out there. Today there is a towering fence around the perimeter to keep out any trouble makers.

Surrounding the dam are gorgeous upscale homes. I spend most of my walk deciding how I would decorate the white, mid-century modern home perched quietly on the hillside. It’s tough because I’m not much for modern décor but I love all of those wall to wall windows. I can’t see the house very well from the path below but I can see just enough to get a good fantasy going. The first time I passed it I heard the gentle sound of wind chimes floating down the hillside. It was one of those magical moments that I try to re-capture every time I’m there. I stand below the house, looking up at the tall palms swaying in the breeze while the chimes ting softly. It’s become my little reservoir ritual. I stand there, trying to be as peaceful and Zen-like as possible and then I start imagining myself on a lounge chair at the pool having those chimes all to myself, all day long.

I often forget how important being in nature is; hearing her soothing sounds and smelling the many scents. The recent rain brought everything to life; the scent of fresh pine was in the air and the sound of trickling water and croaking frogs accompanied me while I walked. I saw squirrels, lizards, hawks, a deer and I even heard an owl. Despite being just above Hollywood, the city disappears quickly in a place like this