Papa’s Hill Country Hideaway

As kiddos, visits to the grandparents’ house were always looked forward to with great anticipation. Like most youngsters, I relished the time I had to spend with my grandparents because, of course as grand parents do, they doted on me incessantly and spoiled me rotten with baked goods and mouthwatering, artery clogging four course meals. Getting there was half the fun too. My Oma and Papa lived 5 hours South of us on the freeway–a trip that was actually more like 12 hours once you factor in a stop at the outlet mall for an obligatory road trip souvenir and a not-so-speedy run to the Czech Stop to purchase more fruit and cream cheese kolaches than should ever be consumed during a lifetime. But sweets and treats aside, I still loved visiting their home in the Texas Hill Country.

As a chubby tot I loved their home for very different reasons than I do now. A pier and beam craftsman with a giant wrap around porch, being on the deck at Oma and Papa’s felt like being a passenger on a cruise line sailing over a sea of wildflowers. Few sensations beat the one that came with dangling my little legs over the side of the porch while looking over blue bonnets and pear trees and making a mess of my mango juice and Sloppy Joe. Yes, as a kid  (and maybe a little bit as an adult too), that was pretty much as good as it got.

Inside was great too. A Franklin stove in the living room set inside a special elevated stone nook proved to be a great stage on which to perform scenes from my favorite storybooks for the family after dinner. A house that features spectacular views of nature and spectacular views of me? Of course I loved it.

But today I love the house for more reasons than its potential to be a platform for post-dinner performances. It’s the house my grandparents built and lived in together for nearly 25 years, and where my grandmother said she was happiest. After touring the country for months in an RV, they reached the Texas Hill Country and could think of no better place to spend their retirement together than in the rolling green hills in the New Braunfels country side. They designed and built the home from the ground up, focusing incredible detail on every aspect from the gingerbread trim on the exterior to the stain on the kitchen cabinets. They did it together and ended up with a beautiful home that acted as the perfect setting to display their love of art, enable their love of food, drink and entertaining, and enjoy their love for each other for the last years of my grandmother’s life.

So while I’ll always love rocking on the porch and looking over wildlife–now with a glass of wine rather than a plate of sandwich–I think even more I’ll love the way the house makes me and anyone who enters it feel. It’s warm and stylish and loved to its bones. It smells like fresh bread and always sings of happiness.