When cabin fever hits, some of the most surprising excursions aren’t too far from your own backyard

If we lived for four years on Forest Grove and never stepped into the forest, we never would. We’d spend Sunday afternoons in the sunny parks and playgrounds we loved. We’d drive on our vacation days to the mountains, lakes, and coast. We’d take our Shabbos walks on the cobblestoned road with the country feel that runs alongside the forest. But inside the forest, never.

It was too dark and dense for me to walk alone. Too rocky for the stroller. Too steep for the toddler. Out of the boundaries of the eiruv. We don’t know the exact route the path takes. And, ach, this is basically urban territory after all — the river running through it is probably brown with pollution anyway.

We never would.

Until the playgrounds were closed and car trips forbidden. Schools were locked and no friendly jump rope tapped the sidewalk. Spring sang around us, while our world closed in.

The first time was a Friday. At the end of a week of everybody-home-all-day-every-day, knee-deep in toys we were Pesach cleaning, closets dumped out, piles of clothing to sort, I asked my husband, “Can we go out somewhere?”

He was ready. The week had been that heavy. “Where?”

“Let’s go to the forest.”