Rain, Pendants, & Pianos

I woke up this morning to the sound of rain tapping its musical rhythm on the rooftop. It's the first rain of the season, and so our dry spell is over. It looks dim outside, but I climb out of bed to look at the trees and plants that are thirstily drinking it all in. The oaks and acacias leaves glisten, and the jasmine seems to glow, so brilliant is its sap green.

Wrapped in the warmth inside my house, my morning cup of tea seems to taste better than usual even, when I can curl my fingers around the steaming cup and watch the dancing splatter of droplets on the deck.

I was planning to finish off a few more pendants today, but unfortunately that won't be able to happen unless the rain lets up, since I can't put the finishing acrylic spray on. However, if there are any of these zodiac designs you're interested in, now's the time to let me know so that I can be sure to set reserved ones aside (or make enough of them).

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Finished off laying out the sketch for a personal painting before the Llewellyn art director got back to me about the zodiac calender cover concept I'd emailed to her yesterday. So I'll have to switch modes to go work on that before coming back to this piece. Deadlines take precedence over my own projects.
A few titles have been rolling around in my head, but I think this one is called "The Transformative Nature of Music". For my grandmother Un-Oi Law who passed away this last week. She had a piano school and store in New York most of her life. On Friday her spirit flew off. My aunts and uncles, my cousins, and their children, took turns playing the piano for her in those last few days so that the music could fill the hospice room. She is inextricably tied to the concept of "family" for me, a strong core that binds all of us together. She was a wonderful woman who took care of me the first year of my life when my parents were both at work and school still. And I'll think of her whenever I play the piano that she gifted me with for my wedding.