The Rubber Seal

The heavy brass hose nozzle lay bare on the slate, its threaded base open to the air. In the seam between two flagstones, a stiff black rubber hose washer lay wedged in the grit. Silence. I set my axe flat against the gray rock. Kneeling down, I pried the thick rubber ring loose with both hands. I brought it to the brass opening and aligned the dark rim against the metal threads. One heavy downward press with my thumbs. Pop. The rubber seated flush inside the brass collar. A slow tilt of my head. The fitting was complete.