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320 pages, Paperback
First published May 2, 2019
It was completely and totally unexpected, but it happened.![]()
"Christina, I'm totally in love," I confided, "With the harp."
"No, I think I'll leave it to you. If I go with you it might look as if I forced you to take it back...you go, hon, and don't forget to make it clear it's your choice."But when Ellie tries to return it, Dan instead offers her a place to learn to play.
I thank her profusely. I was very enthusiastic because nobody has ever, ever given me seven jars of jam before. Let alone ones with checked blue-and-white hats.And the more Ellie visits, the less she wants to go.
...I'm happily married, aren't I?The longer she continues her visits, the better she plays but the more lies she needs to spend to keep her husband's suspicions at bay.
Of course I am.
I clutch my husband's arm.
I've pulled myself loose from my rock, but now I'm floating with the tides and I've got no idea where I'll end up.Ahhh, my heart is too full.


”Music helps fill up the holes that people leave behind”


I was sad. Sad with a sadness I’d never felt before. The sadness chewed me up and swallowed me bit by bit. I was so sad I wanted to spend the whole day walking and looking at trees and gathering pebbles, but I couldn’t. My leg wouldn’t let me.
“However, I had a feeling the heart of Ellie the Exmoor Housewife was completely lacking in stony components. I had a feeling it was made of much softer stuff.”
As I watch from the window the landscape becomes wilder and hillier and sheepier. I feel that simultaneously I am becoming Dannier. And I realize that Exmoor is more than my home. Much more. Exmoor, in a way, is me. It is where I can do my harpmaking and where I can be my absolute self, and those two things are very bound up in each other.


A woman came to the barn today. Her hair was the color of walnut wood. Her eyes were the color of bracken in October. Her socks were the color of cherries, which was noticeable because the rest of her clothes were sad colors.
It was her harp, and always would be. I never took back a gift. The harp would sit here in my barn and wait for her. It would sit and wait until all the cows had come home. This did not sound like a very long time, so I made it longer. The harp would wait, I told her, until the sea dried up (which someday it would if you gave it long enough) and the stars dropped out of the sky (which someday they would if you gave them long enough), but nevertheless this harp would never, ever belong to anyone else.
Sometimes the ifs work for you and sometimes they work against you. Sometimes you think they are working for you whereas in fact they are working against you, and sometimes you think they are working against you whereas in fact they are working for you. It is only when you look back that you realize, and you don't always realize even then.