Sunday I got up early and drove through the misty, September morning to Amboy, where they were going to be celebrating a community worship service in the park. I love autumn mornings — the smell of corn almost ready for harvest, a little crispness in the air, mist rising off the fields.
However, this September morning felt more like mid-August. It was already hot by the time I pulled into the city park and started unloading my harp. Thank goodness for cheerful, striped tents — a fair-skinned harpist's best friend at outdoor summer events.
One last outing for my favorite summer dress.
Whew, it was hot.
As a prelude to the service, I played some inspirational Celtic tunes, some of my originals and a few hymns my Grandma used to sing while she rocked me to sleep. I can still hear her voice when I play "Rock of Ages" and "Be Thou My Vision."
I love this photo. I look so focused and caught up in the music.
And totally in love with my harp, all nuzzled into it like that.
It's true. I love my harp.
Did I mention it was early? Well, for an Amy Sunday, it was. Yes, that's actually a cup of coffee sitting at my feet in the first photo, however decaf it may have been. I haven't had coffee more than four times in the past year and a half — I was hoping the memory of caffeine would give me a little kick. It did. I was wired.
And as I packed up the harp and headed to visit my family, the sound of the portable keyboard-turned-pipe-organ playing and the whole-town congregation singing put an extra smile on my face.
photos by Melissa of the Winnebago Voice