It might happen anywhere — on the street, someone’s front porch, or in the parking lot downtown. You might even (if you’re very fortunate) hear the sound of it lilting through the Appalachian hills. It’s the sound of a bluegrass jam session, which could break out just about anywhere along the southern range of misty blue peaks.
I remember sitting by a fire on a blanket of grass along the Nolichucky River in Erwin, Tennessee listening to the picking, watching the grinnin’, and singing along with the songs whose lyrics I knew. It was a memorable summer night, with the moonlit sky, and the stars were bright diamonds above in heaven’s vault. It’s just something that lifts up the heart.