A Wedge of Cedar

I advanced along the cedar sill toward the outer iron hinge where the casement meets the jamb. In the narrow recess rested a small wooden carpenter's wedge, driven flat beneath the trim to true the frame. Its edge was dry and scored with faint pencil marks from long ago. Grounding my skull-topped staff against the wood, I clamped my left gauntlet around its square base and pulled with steady force. The timber pin held fast, seated firm into the seam without yielding an inch. Satisfied with this hidden buttress, I stood tall against the glass to survey the courtyard.