Harping

Last night we spontaneously went to hear some Mozart (because that's the kind of wild family we are), and we were about six feet from the harp player.

A harp, seen from the end rather than the side, is a strange-looking thing. It looked like a newel post standing in a small boat.

The harpist looked fannish to me -- a beaming, bespectacled, dumpling-shaped woman with one long braid of silver hair.

It was the least I-dreamt-I-wandered-in-a-misty-glade harping I had ever heard -- clear, ringing notes, melody and counterpoint, no long sweeping chords.

And when the harpist rested her hand on the strings to damp the sound, I had a sudden powerful image of the woman in the Strength tarot card shutting the lion's mouth.