Airport Edition

One of these days I'll learn to wear less jewelry when going through security screenings.


That's probably not true.

But what is true is that Seattle knows how to do airports right:
(one) The coffee shops are spaced approximately every 200 feet, offer rice milk, and every single one has a line out the door.
(two) Approximately every 400 feet, there are signs reading "cocktails!" that point to the nearest bar establishment along with the estimated time it will take one to walk there (apparently there are some serious cocktail emergencies here and WHY I ask you does the DMV not follow this model?).


All of this to say I'm heading down to California for a long weekend to meet up with a couple ladies who are just my types.  See you soon birds!
 ~ Umber ~

A Small but Mighty Forest

ReWild-ing Rings
(sterling silver and - left to right - malachite, Kingman turquoise (reserved), chrysocolla with malachite(reserved), and lastly, more malachite (reserved)!)

Birthed during a beautiful talk with a friend about the need to rewild our hearts and souls, how to share a deep love for the earth and her flora and fauna in a way that feels accesible and freeing.  Afterwards, I couldn't help but bring a whole forest into the studio.

I'll be listing these babies in the shop sometime tomorrow; until then inquiries and reserves are welcome!
* * *

On the subject of Migratory Patterns

On the long, 14 hour drive from the wild Northern California coast to the [glorious but unseasonable] golden warmth of Seattle, I had plenty of time for deep thoughts.  There were also a few rousing and crass rounds of "dead or alive" via walkie talkies with BC, but today I'm here to share the physical fruits of those silent and solo thoughts.

I feel as though I've flow north, both literally and figuratively, for a season of life-summer.  The last few years in California felt like a winter of body and soul, a time to pull back, to heal, to rest in the solitude of my little cave, to gestate on thoughts and goals and divine ideas.  

But now?  It's time to gather, time for action, time to rejoin community, time for growing sleek and examining all those ideas in the light of day.

This brings me to think about soul seasons.  Naturally, we all shift through seasons with the earth, but I think the soul runs on a time all its own.  A winter may last three years, skip spring entirely and dive straight into high summer.  We may harvest every good fruit we've produced only to wake the next morning to find the tree of our heart laden and full for the picking again.  Likewise, times may be lean and it's all we can do to wrap up tighter and just stay warm.  This makes a period of hibernation almost mandatory!  How freeing is that!

As I pierced and hand-sawed every single little hoof print, I felt myself migrating.  With every track, striding a bit farther north, into a depth of sun I just now realize I've been missing, hearing the calls and chatter of my tribe.  Of course summer will not last forever, but for right now, I'm ready to embrace it.

Migratory Patterns

earrings ~ sterling silver and copper

rings ~ 100% sterling silver

(heading to the shop momentarily...)

If you feel so bold, I'd love to hear where you are.  Spring?  Autumn?  In a week that had contained them all?  Wherever you are, know that you are exactly where you need to be at this very moment, not too late, not too long, but exactly right.

It's good to be back with you!  

~ Umber ~

Have a gorgeous weekend birds!  May your days be full of brunch dates and soul-fire and spicy autumnal leg wear!

It should be noted that the grass here is relatively spider free.
This is a really huge deal.
Living in the wilds in Northern California we had no shortage of land-space, tangled and native and ungroomed as it were.  With this, apparently, comes gobs and gobs of spiders.  There is a chapter from Annie Dillard in Pilgrim wherein she muses on the numerical breakdown of living organisms in a single square foot of earth below her toes.  I often wryly contemplated this as I stood [still a bit uncomfortably] on a safe thickness of shoe sole and noted the sheer number and variety of the arachnids scurrying about on whatever business a spider happens to have on a Wednesday afternoon at three p.m.  I tell you what, it's not boot shopping.  Which is what I'd be doing if I had eight feet to shod.  And a fresh hole in my favorite pair (promise, this is the last of my boot woes you'll hear about).
Now, here at home in Seattle the turf is a dry, autumnal blend of grasses and deep spongy moss.  I never want to wear shoes again.
~ SIDE NOTE ~ 
Has any one else dressed for work on a late summer day, gathered their lunch and water, popped in the car, drove across town and JUST before stepping out onto the molten pavement realized YOU HAD FORGOTTEN TO WEAR SHOES?   This has happened to me.  Twice.
~ Back to the real thoughts ~
I took the dogs for their run this afternoon, and upon arriving home, couldn't help but lay myself out on that thick pad of greenery below the apple tree.  I thought about that square foot, and I was so flipping proud of Nature.  That the earth, even here surrounded by children in double strollers wielding soggy crackers , construction workers in dirty white shirts, herds of teenagers looking mall-ishly rasta, and even my own mailman Pat*, even here is thick with life.  The land is RICH.  It nearly vibrates with the thunder of my footsteps and the sweet fermentation of rotting apples.  I know if I but dug my fingers into the soil I would find a host of beating, climbing, crunching, rolling little beings.  And while they may be no beauties, just knowing they are there brings a comfort.
It's not enough for me to see pictures of trees, or even to paint them.  It's not enough to say "yes, nature is over there, I'm sure of it." I need it to stain my skin, tangle my hair, co-mingle in my pores, because my own nature is too wild for anything else.
I suppose this is my mission and my wish for this next chapter; to be a little unruly, to flick my tail at the neighbors, to wear lichen and stretch my wings ever wider.

* * *
*  Pat just filled out the "who can receive mail at this address" tag inside our box to say "Clark / Dove"  Can I tell you how much I love this?)