Home; the weekend

My secret garden.




Covered mug. Lovely. It was one of my mother's things that my dad hauled down in huge boxes from Maryland. I relish it.




"It smells like the ocean," he said. "I miss the ocean," I said. "We'll have to go soon..." He hand-fed me my crab legs after dipping them in butter.




Results of my recent thrifting outings. They're antique, amber-colored snuff jars, which I plan to use as vases on my kitchen window-sill. (They're also a tribute to my on-going attempt to unite the masculine and feminine temperaments into my decorating. (: )