Visions from my haven.

Despite its lack-of-warmth and the perpetual noise/stomping from downstairs {tonight's another loud one}, I adore my apartment.

I knew from the moment I walked up the steep stairs into it we were meant to be.
It's bright, airy and long, reminding me of a San Francisco home.
{I love San Francisco.}

We've been together for four years and just over eight months, and I absolutely love having this place be my haven.

I've written here.
I've loved here.
I've cried here.
I've laughed here.
I've grown into who I want to be here.

I've done all that among these things:




{Above: My saving grace in the morning, or how I make my hot green tea. Yes, that is a fabulous mustard-colored stove. I've now lived in two consecutive places that had the same color stove.}

{Above: If you don't know, Steve McQueen was the coolest S-O-B on earth. Recognize.}

{Above: I curl up here a lot to read and/or journal. That afghan was made by Mommalah's aunt, Sister Gabriel.}

{Above: This girl's a Lion/Stegmaier girl through and through.}


{Above: My blessed Organaire, which doesn't get played as often as its gloriousness deserves. The book includes, but is not limited to, "Silent Night," "On Top of Old Smoky," the Italian folk song "Vieni Sul Mar" and many other songs I absolutely cannot play. One day I'll rock out with my Organaire out, you just wait.}

{Above: I collect Things of Green Glass, mostly ashtrays. Came across these candlesticks at an antique shop on the way to Lycoming Mall. Peeking out of the right side is the Sirius I cannot live without.}

{Picked up this Pagan wind chime in the fabulous Emporium of Curious Goods in fabulous Jim Thorpe.}

And finally, the mother load:



Fin.