High on a hill, on our island's north shore, in a neighborhood so lovely I once considered living in it, there is a house. A decidedly large, stately, grand house. It is set on an equally large stately and grand property.
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Following the rules of our neighborhood which state that one goes only where one is invited, and once one is invited, one arrives promptly on-time and not a moment too soon, I eagerly awaited the appointed moment and climbed the elegant slate stairway simply thrilled to be invited. This is the home of a very accomplished artist. And not only is it the home of an artist and not only is it large stately and grand, it contains a particular harp.
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A large handmade golden harp. A gloriously beautiful harp which brings the twinkling sussurant sounds of brightest heaven straight to the darkest earth. A magnificent harp the likes of which is only found in the very best fairytales. And then, one has to use one's imagination in order to see it, let alone hear it.
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The harp stands in the center of its own high cathedral ceilinged room. It is attended by two darling little antique wooden harp backed chairs, also conjured straight from some long ago forgotten fairytale. The hand of theHarpist makes it sing.
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TheHarpist is as lovely as her harp. Her music CD is most wonderful; through it, I can make my house which is neither large, nor stately, nor grand, sound like hers. TheHarpist is available for special engagements. Perhaps best of all, she teaches the harp. Imagine actually being able to play one? Operational soon, her you can visit her at: http://www.karenstrauss.com/
