A Sky of Silver Dots

Safiya held a blue ribbon above the little cardboard loom while Aunt May leaned close to inspect it.

“Over this one and under that one,” Safiya murmured.

The ribbon slipped beneath a yellow strip and came up again.

“There. A river going through a field.”

“A very tidy river,” said Aunt May. “Mine would probably have a duck stuck in it.”

Safiya laughed and smoothed the ribbon flat. They were making woven pictures at the village fair, where a long craft table stood beneath a tree. Above them, paper flags stirred among the leaves. Somewhere beyond the stalls, someone was playing a tune on a flute, stopping now and then to try a tricky bit again.

The table was arranged in stages: cardboard looms at one end, baskets of ribbons in the middle, and loops for hanging finished pictures at the far end. Families shuffled along as they worked. Aunt May had chosen a green ribbon, the colour of the tiny apples on her tree. Safiya had chosen blue and yellow, then found one last ribbon beneath the others.

It was purple with silver dots.

“This one goes at the top,” she said.