Ann Martin - Dawn On The Coast

and she has three different-sized looms in her living room. The looms sit on the polished wood floor underneath the big bay window. I love to take a look at what she's working on. She mostly makes pieces with deep, rich natural colors. Beautiful warm browns and earthy reds. And there's always something different on the looms.

"I never have to redecorate/' she laughs. "Whenever I change projects, I change the whole visual effect of the room."

That day, Clover and Daffodil were each wearing hand-woven cotton vests that their mother had made for them. Clover pulled a small change purse out of her vest pocket and shook the money into her hand.

"Pieces of eight!" she cried. "I'm rich!"

I had forgotten about Clover's wild imagination.

"I gave each of the kids some money," Mrs. Austin explained. "There's a small carnival that's set up over in the field behind the mall. Since it's such a beautiful day, I thought you might want to walk the girls over and spend the afternoon there."

"Super," I said. The afternoon couldn't be shaping up better.

Mrs. Austin grabbed her shawl (hand-woven, of course) and headed out the door. She was

going to a Craft Council meeting, so she'd be gone all afternoon.

Before we could go off to the fair, Clover and Daffodil had to drag me all over the house and show me everything that was new. It had been a long time since we'd seen each other.

"This is the kitchen and this is the refrigerator," said Clover in her excitement.

"She knows that, silly," said Daffodil. "Come on. Let me show you my science project."

We went all through Clover's and Daffodil's rooms. They showed me new clothes, new toys, new books, new school projects, report cards, you name it.

As they were winding down, I sat on Clover's bed and she got out her comb to comb through my long hair. (She always did love to do that.)

"I think somebody spun your hair into gold," she said. "Did you ever meet a little guy named Rumpelstiltskin?"

Of course I told her no, but I think Clover secretly went on believing her own imaginative version. Daffodil sat quietly by. Sometimes, even though she's older, she gets overshadowed by Clover's more outgoing nature. She's also at that gangly stage — her legs and arms seem a little too long for her body.

"Well," I said, standing up. "Shall we head for the carnival?"

Clover popped up beside me. "To see the gypsies!" she cried. She was down the stairs and out the door, with Daffodil and I trailing behind her.

The day was warm and dry and the bright blue sky was streaked with thin, wispy clouds. We had only a short hike to get to the fairgrounds. Just as Mrs. Austin had said, the fair was set up behind the mall. There were a couple of rides — a f erris wheel and an octopus ride with cages that looped up and over.

"A space creature!" shouted Clover.

There were also lots of midway games, plenty of food booths (Hmmm. Hot dogs and cotton candy. Not my idea of a healthy treat), and a fenced-off ring with pony rides.

Clover had me by one hand and I had Daffodil by the other. Clover dragged us from one booth to the next, trying to decide where we should start.

"How about the ring toss?" Daffodil asked in a smallish voice.

"Ring toss!" Clover boomed in echo.

No sooner had she spotted it than we were there. The girls plunked down their money and got their handful of rings. As you can imagine, Clover was an enthusiastic player. Enthusiastic, but not very skilled. Out of six rings she got ... six misses.

"Oh, well," she shrugged. It was Daffodil's turn.

Clover had pitched her rings quickly, but Daffodil took her time. She eyed the hook that was the target. She scrunched her eyebrows in concentration. One hit! Two! Three! A miss. Four hits! Another miss.

"Wow!" I said. "Four out of six. That's not bad at all."

Daffodil smiled shyly. Something- about her reminded me of Shannon — she was like a puppy who had not yet grown into its paws.

"Can I try again?" she asked quietly.

"Sure," I said.

Daffodil bought another round of rings. Again she scrunched up her eyebrows in concentration before she started. One hit. Two. Three. Four. A miss. Another miss.

"Oh," I groaned. "So close!"

Daffodil smiled and said nothing. Clover was already dragging us over to the pony ring.

"Want to ride?" I asked Daffodil.

Daffodil emptied her change purse into her hand and counted her quarters.

"Nah," she said. "I think I'll wait."

Clover ran through the gate and hopped on the pony.

"Giddy-up!" she cried. She nudged the pony's ribs with her heels, but the pony stood

still. It was waiting for a command from the young woman in jeans and cowboy boots who would lead it around the ring.

"Charge!" cried Clover.

I looked at Daffodil and grinned.

"Who do you think Clover thinks she is?" I asked. "Teddy Roosevelt?"

"Annie Oakley, I betcha," said Daffodil.

As it turned out, Clover was thinking of herself more as an Indian brave. She explained that to us after the pony ride and before the ferris wheel. Then, after the ferris wheel, of course, she had to go on the octopus ride. When she was finished, we were all ready for a little refreshment.

"Cotton candy!" yelled Clover.

Well, what could I do? Clover bought her cotton candy, and Daffodil and I got some fruit juice and vegetable fritters. We found a patch of grass to sit on at the edge of the carnival and let the sights and sounds play around us as we ate our snack.

Daffodil counted her change again.

"I could play two more times," she said.

"Ring toss?" I asked.

She nodded her head. We waited for Clover to finish her cone of cotton candy (of course it got all over her face. She looked like some sort

of sticky, pink elf), then we headed back to the booth. Daffodil looked determined. She may be a quiet one, I thought, but she's got a lot of resolve.

Her first game came in short of the others. Only three hits and three misses. Daffodil licked her lips as she bought the rings for her fourth and last game. One hit! Two! Three! Four! Five! . . . We all held our breath. . . . Six!

"Yippee!" yelled Clover. She jumped up and down and shook her sister by the arm.

Daffodil's face broke into a wide, bright smile.

"I knew it," she said. "I knew I could do it."

In the back of the booth was a shelf of stuffed animals, which were the prizes.

"The pink elephant, please," Daffodil said to the man running the booth.

It certainly was pink. It was as pink as the cotton candy that still stuck to Clover's cheeks.

"Come on," I said. "Let's go home while we're winners. And let's get you cleaned up." I ruffled Clover's hair. "Miss Teddy Roosevelt-Annie Oakley-Spotted Deer, or whoever you are."

When Mrs. Austin got home, she had the

same reaction I did to the stuffed elephant.

"It certainly is pink," she laughed. "Congratulations, sweetie."

I don't think Mrs. Austin was going to pick that color for her next weaving project.

The day had been so pleasant, so easy. I was thinking how I couldn't wait to tell Sunny and the others all about it. There was a knock on the door. It was Jeff.

"Morn's on the phone," he said. "Come on."

Mrs. Austin slipped me my pay and I ran home after Jeff.

" 'Bye, Dawn-Best-Baby-sitter," Clover called after me.

As I was running I found myself thinking not of Mom, but of the day, of Clover and Daffodil, of Mrs. Austin, the We V Kids Club. ... I got on the phone and Mom started right in talking. She told me about Granny and Pop-Pop and then she said she'd run into Kristy and her mother at the store. "Oh," she said, "and Mary Anne called."

Wow! Mom, Granny and Pop-Pop, Kristy, even Mary Anne. I hadn't thought of any of them all day long. What did that mean, I wondered. I suddenly felt wrenched out of one world and yanked into another.