Wetting his hands again, he made a depression in the middle of the mound, pressing down while supporting the growing wall with his other hand. He sat back, inspecting his work before hunkering over the wheel and slowly pulling the wall up and out. With gentle strength, he pressed on the inside of the delicate clay, rounding out the inside of the bowl. Dipping a sponge in the bucket, he let it slip and slide over the outside of the pot, smoothing out the ridges left behind by his weathered fingers. Carefully he softened the top of the bowl with the sponge and slowly folded the edge, forming a slight, rounded lip. He sat back, watching the bowl spin to a stop.
With the cutting wire wrapped several times around each forefinger, he slid it along the surface of the wheel, freeing the pottery. Gently he transferred the raw bowl to the wood slab to dry. Before returning to his seat, he seized the doctor from the tray on the floor and scraped the wheel clean. Then with another thunk! he set back to work.
Linking up with Trifecta: 333 words inspired by the word: doctor - a blade (as of metal) for spreading a coating or scraping a surface.
This takes me back to college and memories of slipping through the window into the pottery studio to work on our pots. I remember the instructor could stand beside me, and with one hand, center my ornery clay. My favorite piece I made sits in our kitchen filled with rainbow colored paperclips, several rubber bands, random nails and screws and a few lonely erasures.