Solar Alignment

I carried the celestial azimuths memorized from the atlas down the avenue to the pocket park. In the lawn stood a weathered granite pedestal holding an octagonal bronze sundial. The angled gnomon cast a blurred shadow, distorted by a hardened crust of dried lichen and pine pitch packed along its bevel. I climbed the carved stone molding and unrolled my cotton kit. Using the square edge of the key blank, I scraped the brass ridge down to clean metal until the bevel edge stood razor-sharp. The dark shadow narrowed into an exact line, cutting flush across the midday Roman numeral. Tangible verification. Charts mean nothing until tested against the sun.