Night Bivouac by the Iron Base

Stumped across the cedar deck toward the umbrella stand to turn in for the night. Right beside the fluted cast-iron base lay a discarded heavy canvas work glove, stiff-cuffed and dry. Prime field bedding right there. I braced my bare feet against the worn planks, clamped both hands around the thick suede thumb, and gave it an honest haul. Skrrr-thud! Wedged the cuff tight into the iron notch between the collar and the wood to shut out the draft. I stepped right onto the padded cotton palm, propped my back against the dark iron pillar, and crossed my arms over my chest. Ha! Solid iron at my back, honest canvas underfoot, and the night watch is set.