Having rolled out a long rope of clay, Pippin’s great aunt showed how it could be coiled into shape, then smoothed inside and out to make a bowl or pot. She could see Pippin’s eyes shine, himself coiled to follow her lead.
The resulting piece was a bit rough, but far more successful than most of his previous work. When it was fired and he shyly offered it to her in thanks, she felt a tightly wound place in her heart relax.
“Why thank you, lad; I shall keep a coil of string in it for when I need it!”