A Change In Tradition

Many in the village were against it, but today was the time.

Years as an apprentice performing in a supporting role, years perfecting the use of the knife, the scissors, and the spatula, would today result in the creation of a masterpiece.

First, preparation was needed, normally to be done by the shop's young apprentice. But on this day, he would observe the Master.

The oven was fired to the proper temperature.  The tools were cleaned, checked, and re-checked.  The best ingredients were selected, measured, mixed, and set over a high heat to liquefy.

While preparations were underway, a crowd formed in the village square.  Angry speeches were made against any change in tradition.  Chanting "protect our heritage", they headed toward the shop.

The oven was ready, the liquid mix was easily stirred.  It was time.  The Master donned a heavy apron, uncomfortable in the heat from the oven, but necessary.

A glob of molten mix was gathered to the blowpipe.  Through a series of deft movements, interspersed with varying puffs of air into the pipe, a new shape emerged.

The Master dipped the completed shape into a cooling barrel, and cut it off into a basket lined with a soft blanket.  The work was done just in time.

The villagers massed out in front, chanting "No woman can be a glassblower!"

The Master removed her craftsman's cap. Long hair flowed freely over her shoulders.  Picking up the new vase, she stepped outside, holding it up.

"It was my father's wish that I become Master, to keep his shop alive," she stated.  "This glass vase is the fulfillment of his wish, for all to see and enjoy."

The villagers were silent, until the sun flashed through the vase, unleashing a roar of approval.