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I am UmberDove.

And by that, I mean an artist.  One who hears stories in the wind, who paints because it is what her soul tells her to do, who smiths because the muse moves through her fingertips, who loves nothing more than the promise of an unexplored trail, the sound of the ocean in her ears, and scent of a serious cup of coffee.


One down, Seven to go...


Hello all you wild things and thingettes!

wind hair

I'd like to check in, give you the report, pass the dirt, but at the moment I'm feeling rather deliriously tired.  My life, like many two year olds, is consisting largely of toast, naps and True Blood.  Ok, maybe not like most two year olds (what with the vamp drama).  But today I feel more like myself than I have in the last week; I've eaten two (count 'em TWO) whole meals AND managed a beach excursion.  Because we all know the only thing better than fresh air is beach air.  Plus I filled a very large sack with the roundiest, flatiest, most satisfying stones that are now neatly stacked and awaiting the dash of my paint brush.


But for now, I think my fingers are beginning to stutter and my eyelids are no longer cooperating.  Actually I'm not even sure what I typed just above these photos so I do hope it was decipherable, or at least somewhat sane.  Sleepy brain has a way of slipping in random comments about ridiculous things like Walker Texas Ranger and how to grow snap peas from pool cues without my knowledge.
I'll see you on the other side.