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Governor General's Award for Children's Literature - Illustration nominee, 1999
Whenever my father puffs out his cheeks and plays the bagpipes, my brothers go to visit a friend. Our dog creeps under the bed, the horses flatten their ears, the hens cluck. And I cover my ears.
But one special night everyone listened when my father played his pipes.
For the youngest member in the family, the ceilidh is almost spoiled. She has been judged old enough to help, but too young to stay up like her brothers, or wear a kilt, or dance until dawn.
But when the bagpipes sound from the far hills she is there - hiding in the hay - watching, listening.
And on a night twinkling with fireflies, one small girl's brave Highland heart responds to her father and the ancient spell his music weaves.