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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.


Morning Details


Well here it is Wednesday.
The fog has rolled right up the hillside from the ocean, soaking through the field of cypress and juniper across the street, leaving swollen droplets on every surface it touches.  The air feels flat, dense, and when I hold my hand outstretched dew settles on my skin.  Fifty yards out the trees begin to fade away as though my knowledge of them exists only in memory.  The sun, I know, is searching for a crack to begin warming the soil but for now, a damp chill permeates.


I stand outside and shiver slightly.  I'm still in my pjs.  Somewhere inside a mug of earl grey tea with warmed soy milk is cooling.


My toes, wearing worn out slippers send shivers up my spine and I know the first cup of tea has hit.  But the spiders have dressed their webs in the finest lights and I can't bring myself to go back in just yet.


Plus, the boys don't mind the damp.


And to be quite honest, neither do I.

Tell me about your morning birds:
What are you drinking?  What are you wearing?  What fresh bit of light has touched your nose today?  Inquiring minds (a.k.a. ME) want to know!