Won't you join us?

And my eyes are filled with green...

A few short ages ago I began this painting.  With gusto and effervescent energy, I believed it would develop quickly, that all the pieces would fall into place, that my strokes would be strong and confident till the end, that the vision in my head would remain clear and my direction would hold unwavering.

And then the rains fell.  Storming on my head and in my heart.  Earlier this year, in the final fighting throws of Winter, I struggled like a drowning woman, lost in my own frustrations.  I started painting after painting, till the white walls of my studio were covered in splashes of color but there was no resolution to be found.  I spent hours, days, weeks just sitting, beseeching the paintings to speak to me, to tell me what they needed, for that moment when the clouds part and the path is clear.  But the fog just rolled in thicker and darker, my skin icy and my faith shaken.  I finally had it out with Him.  Ranting, raging, questioning why, why if this is my path (which I have never doubted that it is) would He blind me to the trail.  Why would these tools, these brushes, that I trust more than my own hands forsake me?  I bled all over the studio.  I said angry things, honest things, cried myself to sleep on the dirty wooden floor.

When I awoke, the scales fell from my eyes.  But stubborn child that I am, I refused to get up until the the dust had settled and the path was clear.

And then I painted.  

From the roots of my soul, dipped in the sap of my blood, I painted.  And rejoiced.  And painted even more.  The famine is past.  The rains have fallen so that the feast could grow richer.  I am remembering my faith.  I am believing once again.

From this Detritus springs the most magnificent elixir I have known.  I will drink deep, healing my parched throat and filling my limbs with light.  I believe once again.

Tales of a Morning Walk

I wish all the best for your days, drink your cuppas, breathe some fresh air, and look up.

- Umber

To All the Ladies ever Accused of Being a Dork

Just know there is a bigger one out there somewhere.  I have no pride.

(and do excuse the jumping camera - I'm a foot tapper)

Winner Winner Chicken Dinner

The votes have been cast and the results are in!  Mister Brian Wigand of the lovey-dovey story number three is the winner of the Umber Dove Birthday Contest and the (soon to be) proud new owner of an Umber Dove pillow! 

Congratulations!

And a super huge thank you to all who took the time to send in stories (and to those - Sam - who are still going to...), I truly enjoyed reading each and every one!

In other realms of life, I am the proud new owner of an amazing work of art that sits weighty on my chest, a searing heat that soaks into my body.

Ladies mine, near and far, the givers of my Seraphim necklace, I love and treasure you.  Your thousand wings lift my sights, lending strength, whispering encouragement, buoying my spirits, protecting my soul.  I love you.  You know who you are, and even more importantly, I know who you are, and I am thankful for the gift of your friendships.