Years ago when I met Gary he was living in this house in Mill Valley, California.
Here's what I remember about it:
It was surrounded by redwood trees and there were great hikes right out the door.
There was a beautiful hot tub inside the house, in a room with a cobblestone floor.
The windows opened but had no screens on them. You could open them up and, during the right season, pick wild black raspberries right from the dining room table to put on your breakfast cereal.
There was a magical loft room. You had to climb a ladder to get up there.
There was a music studio with a black Steinway grand piano, and a red Oriental rug hanging on the wall, and postcards on the wall that Gary hung with scotch tape.
From this house you could take nice walks and see interesting yards and homes. Some were like little gnome huts. Some were modern mansions, but in a down-to-earth kind of way.
You could walk to Whole Foods from this house, and ride a bike to a wonderful trail that went along the San Francisco Bay.
The neighborhood smelled of jasmine.
I remember lots of music, everyday. Piano lessons. Concert rehearsals. Jamming with other players. I remember Gary writing songs, and playing piano and guitar.
This is where I fell in love with Gary, in this house.
So it was very special to take the kids to see this house when we were in California this summer. It was a perfect sunny day. We parked the car and took a walk in the neighborhood, a walk I took with Gary many times years ago. We spotted many black raspberry bushes along the side of the road, and the kids were disappointed they weren't yet ripe, but it was June. Then we found a tree filled with tiny ripe plums and all ate a bunch of them. We took the kids by one of my favorite houses, set deep in the woods. It is a sprawling, funky, artsy abode. If I could build a house, I imagine it would look something like this.
me in front of my favorite house