Hendrix, Taylor J. on tue 27 may 03
Howdy all:
My Sunday was a great day. The gray, 5:30 morning found me in the cab
of my red truck, Dr. Pepper at my side. Looked like we might get rain.
Fuel firing potters love rain, sleepy helpers don't always. I pointed
that gas-swigging F-150 eastwards onto Hwy 84. Go east to go west, or
in my case, go east to larn you sumpin'. I did, and after crossing the
mighty Neches River (Texans don't laugh) and passing fields of cattle
dotted among the herds of cow birds, I finally arrived at my destination
only about 30 or so minutes late. Now, I played it cool, said "Good
mornin'," and shook his hand, but I was giddy with the prospect of
helping this potter feed his fast Freddie. Fast Freddie on steroids or
'The Texas two step with fire even.' What a thrill. I tried to stay
out of the way and help and watch everything he did and ask questions
and not ask too many questions and help keep the fire up and try not to
put the fire out and and and. Stack the wood near the
fireboxes--stoking will pick up. Keep a little bit of fire coming out
the firebox but not too much wood on the grate at one time. Don't rush
the red heat then pile on the wood and keep the stack producing black
smoke. Now lighten up and listen to the roar out the damper. Hmm
listen. Potters have to listen. I heard the squeak of the heat shields
on their chains, that big old oak braving the fire. I heard the pop and
creak of expanding metal. I think I heard the roar. Keep the flames
coming just out of the stack then let em' die back down. Potters got to
see. I saw the flames out the stack. I watched through the passive
damper the red hot flu gasses risen up the stack. I watched the flames
from the oak rolling off the wood and up the sides of the kiln. I felt
them too. Hot. Hot on the face, on the legs through the jeans, on the
arms and hands as I pushed back the coals with a fresh piece of wood.
Watching him rake down the coals, watching the leather mittens begin to
smoke, one got a sense of what the fiery insides of the kiln was
becoming. Hot. I watched the wood stack shrink and the coals pile up.
I saw the cone pack disappear into a background of orange heat and fire.
I had to go. Beautiful wife waiting at home, a two hour drive ahead of
me, hot and smoky, hair full of sawdust and soot. Man, I hated to go.
Hope I wasn't too much trouble. Hope I didn't drink too many of his Dr
Peppers (though I know I did). And glad that Donnie got another chance
to pee on me.
Taylor, I got two strong arms n' I can help.
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