I am reminded, when I study the pictures of 51 Quebec St, of a pale, watchful bird perched high and still in a pine canopy. More a songbird than a hawk, a meditative lark, a dove cooing for just a little attention, imploring you to climb the pretty limestone stairs for a better look. And you really should. This so-sweet two-bedroom bungalow, set high above the street on one of the Inner Harbour's prettiest blocks, is something of a marvel, a pastel retreat from the world's dark hubbub. The softwood floors in the main reception room are more lemon than honey, and the cork in the kitchen feels like the trunk from which that fruit blooms. It's a wild, transporting sort of experience. There are sightlines from the front door all the way to the double doors out to the garden and parking, to the sheltered deck where you wonder at what you did to wind up so perfectly located. The kitchen wraps around two walls and the cabinets feature Shaker pulls and a raised bar for your stools, as well as generous space for the guests to lounge while you work on the latest Ottolenghi. It's a short walk from these bright well-organized spaces up to McBurney Park, and about the same to the Elm. The downtown core is a twelve-minute amble, if ambling's your thing.