Apparently someone is knitting a little blanket for himself.
Or
Is still a puppy with a heart of mischief.

Either way, at least he looks good in green.

Child-like Matters

Firstly 

(and very foremost)

Thank you SO much for your cheers, your toasts, your prayers, and your air-punches.  I tell you true, YOU are a force of nature in my life, the encouragement that speeds me onto recovery and the delight that has me chomping at the bit to get back to this place.  

Secondly

(and very secondmost)

Let's have a chat.

I've been collecting the first figments of ideas, scuffing about in the primordial soup of the ocean's edge, looking long and hard bits of flotsam, forgetting their species and genus but committing their wild curves to memory.  I've run my fingers over the ridges of barnacles, wondering what feeling would look like if the memory of touch was a physical object.  I've listened to the suck of tides on waterlogged sand, rocking slowly on my heels, seeing without asking too many questions.
I've walked slow in the woods, examining the perfect trilogy of fiddleheads unfurling, counting one, two, three.  I've eaten the first salmon berries like a guilty child, looking both ways up the trail before plucking their apricot-scented goodness and popping them in my mouth.
I've been thinking hard.
And I've been thinking not at all.

And this is the root of the matter.
Growing is uncomfortable.
(Oh friends.  True confession.  Somedays I sit and sulk like a obdurate child UNDER my studio desk, with legs splayed out, convinced that this is the end, I may as well sell off every tool and brush I own as I've hit the end of my artistic career.  Thank GOD these fits are generally cut short by a fast run or a strong latté)
I've been working through ideas slowly, even for me.  I've taken myself out to all the right places, seen all the right sights and have tried my best to give myself permission to NOT think.  To not strain my eyes, to not stretch my heart, to not step into the woods with that ball of determination ripe in my stomach that says "Ok.  Look close. We're here, and clearly there is something we're supposed to see so be careful, don't miss it.  It's here, I just know, if we can just task ourselves to finding it then divine inspiration will be ours!"
Instead I'm trying to gift myself with the attention of a child.
This means sometimes I walk the forested trail too fast, forgetting entirely to notice the wild grapes and the mating calls of swallows before contentedly squatting on a busy street curb collecting purple eucalyptus pods to fill my pockets.  It means sometimes I go to the beach for an extraordinarily low tide and spend the whole time at the dune line playing with driftwood with my back to the waves.
It often means my outings do not go as planned, but in my heart of hearts I feel...

lighter.
softer.
quieter.

I might not have found the idea to trump all past ideas, but I am finding a certain contentment that seeps through my bones.
Filling the well if you will.
Turning down the volume on that inner driving force, the one who is so necessary but too often bullies with harsh demands and snide comments.  In turn trying to give the quiet if self-absorbed inner child space to just play.

It's all progress.
It feels so important that our lives be not only documented by what we produced but by who we became.  I desire a wholistic life with every fiber of my being.

If you feel so inclined, please share:
How do you gift freedom to your inner child?

With open arms
~ Umber

I've been in a quiet place.

Honestly I think it's been a perfect foil for my body, which has been full of quick feet, busy hands, packed days and seven hour drives.

That said, I'm taking a few more days off.

(primarily due to, cross your fingers, the last surgery I'll have for a loooong time which is scheduled for pre-dawn-crack tomorrow morning.  The doctors will be removing my chemotherapy port because, DRUM ROLL PLEASE, all the tests and images I've had taken look clear and without concern.  CAN I GET A HOORAY!?!?!)

See you this weekend!

Offerings of the Winged Persuasion, Part Deux

Winged
(I love these)

* * *

Stone Feather No 25

OHHHHH!  The shade of this stone is unlike any I've yet to find, mottled with lavender streaks and purple pockets, OY!

* * *

Weathered: A Feathered Sea Stone
(Officially the largest feathered stone to date, heavy, slick, and measuring in at a full seven inches)

To be listed momentarily!

Offerings of the Winged Persuasion

I think it's high time for a very official shop update.

Winged

A Sea Stone of the smoothest type, heavy, solid, fairly singing with the serenade of the Pacific Ocean.

* * *

Messanger of Truth Cuff
(A natural evolution of my Totem Cameo Cuffs, featuring a Black Capped Chickadee)
To hear the truth in our voices and trust that small, still place inside.
To be reminded of the power in small things, small creatures, small gestures.
To find beauty in the mystery our own minds, our own brilliant thoughts and the tiding our lips bear.

Sized to wear most happily on a 6.25" to 6.5" wrist.
* * *

Messanger of Truth Cuff
Sized to wear most happily on a 7" to 7.25" wrist

* * *

(both pairs are now reserved - thanks ladies!)

Odonata Earrings

For growing new wings.
For hovering delicately.
For allowing the wind to lift you up.
For flying swift, for flying sure.
* * *

I've penciled in a date with Etsy tomorrow morning at loosely 11:00 PST for the shop update.  Until then, know that ALL of the pieces in today's preview are available as reserves; just pop me a convo right here and we'll chat!

For now:
I'm not caring at all that carbs go to thighs and will be finishing off the most AMAZING lavender-blueberry-banana muffin from one of my favorite tiny cafes (I was in early early this morning, just moments after the owner pulled the muffins out of the oven, still warm, intoxicating, and I gave her all the money I had).
Seven AM marked the lowest tide we've had in a while, and I loaded my poor frayed messenger bag with a slew of new sea stones and desperately need to begin painting.  They are SINGING my name!
CHEERS!
~ Umber ~

A Day in the Life of the Dove: Mme. Bookling Comes to Town

[A photographic account of a single day in my life, wherein old friends made merry in new towns and three, count them, THREE restaurants heard the peals of our laughter.]

- Saturday May14th 2011 - 

8:53 am

9:45 am

10:32 am

11:31 am

11:32 am

12:07 pm

12:47 pm

12:52 pm

1:17 pm

3:08 pm

3:20 pm

3:22 pm

3:35 pm

3:37 pm

3:42 pm

4:59 pm

5:08 pm

6:08 pm

8:31 pm

9:43 pm

9:51 pm

11:13 pm

Dear Bloggity-Blogger

My dearest of the dear came to play.  I took a hiatus.  I wanted to tell you about it, but between our internet flying the coop and you hiccuping along last week, I think we missed each other.  Anyways, I'll be back.

Cheers,

~ Umber

I've Grown New Wings

And let me tell you:
They feel good.
Real good.

Odonata Earrings
Built from these ten fingers of sterling silver and copper, asymmetrical, light as damselflies, bright as dragonflies.  The sterling lightly oxidized and brushed to a mellow glow while the copper, OH THE COPPER!, heavily patinated in a process that takes a full forty-eight hours to develop but results in the most gorgeous aged turquoise you've ever set sights on.

Forget the cup, I'M bubbling over!

I feel like I've just awoken from a hibernation, stretched my fingers wide and rolled my shoulders back to find a new set of wings, still wet, sprouting from my scapula.  I'm hovering, testing out the air.  And this grin, well it's wider than the seven seas combined.
~ Umber ~