Once Ma caught sight of the earthenware pot, she asked me where I got it. I pointed at myself and mimed shaping it. She examined the intact one closer and saw that the shape was somewhat crude. Once she glanced at my hands, she seemed to be satisfied and let the matter drop.
It rained heavily overnight, and the next day was hot. I checked out the clay ovens. The makeshift kiln had survived largely intact. The side of the charcoal oven that faced the creek had fallen in on itself. The next one needed further away from the water.
While I was at the creek, I decided to test the the two good vessels by dipping them into the water. They initially held the water, but started dribbled.
Helen caught me as I sat and pondered the bowl. Her cheeks were flushed with heat. She set aside her bow, took the bowl out of my hand poured the creek water over he still short hair. She filled the bowl back up.
"It looks like your bowl is leaking?"
I nodded.
"The bowls that Mum has are shiny."
Glazing! I forgot that earthenware needed to be glazed before they could hold water. The rough, unglazed surface was porous and let liquids through. The next step was to figure out what could glaze it.
The glazing material could be clay-based as well. The trick was to lower the melting temperature to end up with a smoother surface. Glass making included carbonates to accomplish that. Pottery should have an similar analog.
Whosever memories I had come across certainly wasn't a potter.
"Can't figure out what makes it shiny?" Helen asked.
I shook my head.
"Why don't we go to the potter's place?"
I gave her a questioning look. I hadn't heard about a potter in our village. Even if she did make introductions, would a potter show us the secrets of his techniques. Medieval craftsmen were jealous with their knowledge.
"Come on, let's go take a look," Helen said.
We dropped off our things at her place and headed to the village.
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