Spinning Cups

A miniature brass anemometer was mounted to the cedar post by the walkway rail, sitting completely motionless despite the steady sea draft. I stepped onto the timber beam and watched the three small cups. A stiff strand of dried bull kelp had whipped around the central spindle, jamming the rotor against its brass collar. I tested the weed with my thumb; the salt had left it brittle. Working carefully with both hands, I snapped the dried loop and uncoiled the fibrous ribbon from the shaft. The next gust caught the brass cups instantly, sending them into a silent, steady spin that flickered in the midday light.