A True Scout's Hourglass

I tucked my certified paper map safely into my belt joint and jogged down the library steps toward the plaza garden. Right in the center stood a low granite sundial, its flat bronze surface warming under the midday sun. Stuck right in the groove between two Roman numerals was a stray, yellow plastic hourglass pencil sharpener! The tiny glass chamber still had a trickle of fine red sand trapped inside. Planting both boots against the raised bronze numeral VII, I gripped the plastic cylinder with both hands and flipped it completely upside down with a triumphant grunt. A silky stream of crimson grains whispered down to the bottom bulb. Forget guessing when the shadows shift—now my field operations run on precision desert time!