Since both the raw materials and fuel were already near the stream, I picked the same area for the kiln. The next afternoon, I built another mud oven. The day after that, I dug clay from underneath crumbly stone and shaped it into some bowls. After letting it dried overnight, I lit another fire and fired the clay.
While tending to the fire, I occupied my hands by making cordage. It was necessary for tying the head onto a hatchet or other tools, lashing together poles, bundling together sticks, used for fishing, or any other other number of things. I could never have enough cordage.
I let the fire burn out on it's own. The bowls seemed to have firmed up, so I left them in the oven to cool down naturally and lessen the thermal shock. I managed to finish my project just in time to avoid the burgeoning storm clouds.
Out of the six bowls that I had prepared, two cracked in the kiln. One more broke as I tried to remove them. A fourth was had melted like a model for a famous Dali painting, but made it out of the kiln. The fifth and sixth were intact. However, number five broke when I tried to fill it with water. Number six dribbled water, but it washed out to the characteristic orange red of earthenware. One out of six wasn't good, but I could still call it a success.
I kept the shards to number five as well as fourth and sixth ones in a hand basket. I put leaves between the ceramic and tied them to the basket with the cordage. See, I told you that I couldn't have enough of the stuff. The remaining usable charcoal went into a back basket, and I carried the lot back home.
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