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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.




Five Things Friday (Delicacies)
This week I was hoping for a hawk feather, but instead I found a handful of these leaves, entirely skeletal, microcosmically delicate, and just as sexy as a pair of fishnet stockings.  I'll take them.

It's been difficult to stay indoors.
My feet have itched and I look at the solid blanket of gold covering the lawn and think of the yellow brick road.  Somewhere there is a destination I want to discover.  Out is just so... magical lately.

On that, I've been thinking on wanderlust.  My own definition of the drive that shimmies up the spine, sets toes tapping, that has the jacket pulled on and the scarf wound before one even knows where.  I want to see it all, but more than anything, I want to wander the earth right around me.  To walk the same mountains in all seasons, to see the leaves drop from a particular maple and know that just the week before, all was fushia and bright.  To know where the elk have been bedding down, tucking that knowledge away to check for antlers after the freeze.  To note the rise of the river or the creep of the snow line.  I'm thinking on it.
Tell me:
where do your feet itch?