On Sunday, in the midst of a crazy week and an even crazier summer, Radley and I stopped at his grandma's house to say hi. Stepping away from her garden for a moment, she greeted us with big hugs before leading us into the kitchen where, as usual, a homemade pie sat on the counter, filling the room with the sweetest of scents. Oma's house is like something out of a storybook, all charm and tradition, a mix of cozy nooks and grand, sweeping views. When you step onto her deck, you can see clear across Marin, taking in a view of Mill Valley and Mt. Tamalpais and a sky that's nearly always blue.
Radley spent a lot of time at Oma's house growing up. So many of his favorite stories take place in his Opa's woodshop or the playhouse he built for the grandkids or, of course, in Oma's kitchen. There's just something so peaceful about the place, and something so precious about Radley's memories, and within minutes I found myself sinking into the moment, grateful for another glimpse into his past.