Threading the Line

The free brass coupling of the garden hose rested on the slate beneath the spigot. Silence. I set my small axe flat against the flagstones. Dropping onto both knees against the red brick foundation, I gripped the cold metal fitting with both hands. I hoisted the heavy collar upright to meet the threaded spout. Align. One deliberate, heavy upward twist. Screech. The brass ridges engaged smoothly, turning until the coupling locked tight and flush against the masonry fixture. A slow tilt of my head. I rested both hands on the rigid connection, watching the line hold firm.