A Brass Coupler in the Cedar Shavings

I slipped under the screen door after noon and wandered across the sun-warmed boards toward the cedar flowerbed beneath the hose reel. Half-buried in fragrant cedar woodchips was a heavy solid brass hose coupler, threaded on both ends with rubber gaskets still intact. I crouched down, cleared the dry shavings away with my boot heel, and rolled the brass cylinder upright. It stood firm, cold and heavy as an anvil. I pulled that stamped steel bottle opener off my carabiner and tapped the hollow threaded mouth. It let out a rich, deep church-bell chime that hummed through the deck planks. Perfect acoustic weight right in the afternoon shade.