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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.



A slight confession:
I've been home since Monday night.
I've spent a total of 23 minutes on the computer since then.

It's so funny; a week away from the 'webs and I feel so lost on your lives!  What have you done?  What have you seen?  What did you eat to celebrate your independence? 
(I ate approximately one pound of road-side-purchased cherries completely by myself and, in case you were wondering, felt fantastic)

This week we drove inland to a tiny mountain town with rivers rushing and temperatures nearing triple digits.
I remembered how much I love the scent of heat.  How it varies as the thermometer climbs and a bouquet of clay dust, oak leaves, snow melt, blooming blackberries and pastured horses swirls through one's hair.  How the scent lands on one's skin like wild perfume and how driving around in a bikini top makes all the sense in the world.
In other news, as many have asked, the official answer is no, no I have STILL not packed a single box.  And no, the contractor is STILL not finished in our new home.  Blerg.  I'm impatient.  I've measured and remeasured every room, every stick of furniture, I've mentally arranged paintings and house plants and books and wine glasses.  I've sketched out the plans for the yard and it's future raised beds at least four times now.  But more than anything else I'm DESPERATELY ITCHING to set up my new studio.  Did I mention the light pours in the windows like a whole heavenly host belting out Bohemian Rhapsody?  Or that the view East looks out over the river and the low lying mountains beyond?
It's magical.
I'm desperate to be there.

I could use every pair of fingers out there crossed in the hopes that the house really and truly will be ready for us to move in next weekend and that Mr. Contrator will continue to show up every day until then (ehem.  We have learned some valuable life lessons on this one).  It's going to happen but like Veruca Salt, "I want it NOOOOOOW!"

I'm trying.

In the meantime:
Here's to a weekend full of wind in the jowlies!
~ Umber ~