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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.


Guilty Parties


This used to be more than just a rabbit head.

In fact, for 11 months, this was a full and floppy thing, gummed up for certain, but loved well.  Now, like one of Henry's wives, this head has been neatly separated from it's body and I could place money on which set of puppy teeth is at fault.

I'll give you a hint:
"Milk teeth"

Signing off from the land of more-toys-needed.