Our Paris Apartment.

  

 

  

   

 

 

 

 

 

 

During our visit to Paris last summer, we rented an apartment. It was quirky and charming and full of that gorgeous, acclaimed Parisian light. A very special little place on the fourth floor of an old beautiful building. An elevator with just enough room for the three of us. A mouthwatering boulangerie just around the corner (which meant fresh pastries every morning). Rooftop views, old wood floors with creaks and squeaks. Two bedrooms and a patio. The tiniest kitchen with saloon doors. A small but functional bathroom and a washing machine. A block away from the Metro station. We even overheard through the walls a couple arguing...the man was asking her (in a loud voice) "Pourquoi pourquoi?!" over and over again. We still imitate it with good humor around the house here a year later...Who could ask for more?

Thank you for visiting, and thank you for being you...xoxo

The Last Time I Saw Paris.

 Ghost in the window.

 I like to think of this as Lover's Lane.

Entwined.

 Cobblestones and cafes.

  Dutch angle night life on the Seine.

 No matter where one goes in Paris, one ends up at Notre Dame.

 The boy and Mr. Piano Man bonded.

 Plotting with my partner in crime.

My boy is officially taller than I am.

The last time I saw Paris. July 2012.

I hope you're having a beautiful weekend, dear ones.

Much love...xo

This Time, Last Year.

We were in Paris...

 Know what I'm sayin'?

 

{made by yours truly}

 

 

Much love...xo

This Morning.

 

Today has thus far been quiet and calm. A welcome change. I have been to the library for a new pile of books. To me, there's something about summer and the library that has deep meaning and joy. I believe it springs from my childhood. For a number of my school years we lived right across the street from the library in our little town. The library was actually a victorian home, three stories high, which was converted into the town library. I spent a large part of my endless summer hours in that cool, quiet place. It was a comfort and probably saved me from a certain sadness in my young life.

I am always excited about the books I bring home from the library. Among this week's collection are a number of rereads. I think I will begin with a favorite of mine, "Tender is the Night" by F. Scott Fitzgerald. Each time I read it, I catch something new...I'd like to leave you today with an excerpt from Book 1 of this gorgeously written book:

     Following a walk marked by an intangible mist of bloom that followed the white border stones she came to a space overlooking the sea where there were lanterns asleep in the fig trees and a big table and wicker chairs and a great market umbrella from Sienna, all gathered about an enormous pine, the biggest tree in the garden. She paused there a moment, looking absently at a growth of nasturtiums and iris tangled at its foot, as though sprung from a careless handful of seeds, listening to the plaints and accusations of some nursery squabble in the house. When this died away on the summer air, she walked on, between kaleidoscopic peonies massed in pink clouds, black and brown tulips and fragile mauve-stemmed roses, transparent like sugar flowers in a confectioner's window - until, as if the scherzo of color could reach no further intensity, it broke off suddenly in mid-air, and moist steps went down to a level five feet below.

    
Dear hearts, I hope you have a peaceful and beautiful weekend.
Much love...xo

The love of my life.