The weathervane
Each broken thing was a story interrupted, waiting for someone patient enough to hear its ending.
Sam fixed weathervanes. Not the ornamental kind that perch on suburban homes like metal roosters dreaming of flight, but the ancient copper ones that crown church steeples and town halls, their arrows perpetually seeking truth in the wind.
He had never intended this to become his life's work. It began with his grandfather's workshop, where broken things went to be reborn.
His grandfather had a saying: "The wind knows where it's going, but sometimes the arrow forgets how to follow." He never explained what he meant, but Sam understood it now, fifteen years after his death, as he dangled from a harness 200 feet above the ground, squinting at a weathervane that hadn't turned in thirty years.
The St. Augustine's Church weathervane was different from any he had encountered before. Its mechanism was a peculiar amalgamation of German and French designs, probably cobbled together during the war years when parts were scarce. Sam had already spent a week studying it, making attempts that would have made a lesser person quit after the first day.
He had fashioned custom tools from his grandfather's old files. He had consulted retired clockmakers and metallurgists. He had even attempted to recreate the mechanism from scratch, only to discover that modern metals behaved differently from their century-old counterparts.
The parish council had gently suggested that perhaps it was time to consider a replacement. Modern weathervanes were reliable, they said. Maintenance-free.
Sam just smiled.
On the 8th day, as he hung suspended between heaven and earth, something occurred to him. The problem wasn't in the mechanism at all – it was in the space around it. Decades of nesting pigeons had created a microscopic ecosystem of droppings, feathers, and calcium deposits that had essentially fossilised the weathervane's housing. The solution wasn't to fix the mechanism, but to recreate its environment.
For the next week, he meticulously recreated the conditions of 1943, when the weathervane was last serviced. He used a mixture of saltwater and vinegar to simulate sea spray, applied heat to expand the metal as it would have on summer days, and even played recordings of church bells at specific frequencies to induce subtle vibrations.
On the 15th day, as he was applying a paste made from crushed oyster shells (to match the calcium content of pre-war copper), he heard a sound. It was barely audible above the wind, but it was there – a slight creak, like an old door opening in a forgotten house. The arrow moved. Just a fraction of an inch, but it moved.
By sunset, the weathervane was spinning. Catching light like a new penny. The parish council was ecstatic, though slightly bewildered by his methods. They asked him to explain his process for their records. Sam just smiled and said, "The wind knows where it's going. Sometimes we just need to remember how to listen."
Later that evening, in his grandfather's workshop, Sam sat among the broken things waiting to be fixed. A clock that told time backwards, a music box that played in colours, a barometer that measured dreams instead of pressure.
He knew he would fix them all, not because he was particularly clever or skilled, but because he had never learned to ask whether it was worth it. Some might call it stubbornness, this refusal to acknowledge defeat. But Sam knew better. It was simply that he had never seen life as a series of cost-benefit analyses. To him, each broken thing was a story interrupted, waiting for someone patient enough to hear its ending.
Outside, the wind changed direction, and somewhere high above, a weathervane turned faithfully, marking the moment with a whisper of copper against the sky.
Recommended reading:
- "The Career Craftsman Manifesto" by Cal Newport
- "Craftsmanship and Creativity: The Art of Showing Up Long After Passion Leaves" by Dallas Blowers
- "The Art of Craftsmanship" by Ben Heim
- "The Top Six Traits of Incredible Craftsmen" by Penny Mustard
- "Unlocking the Power of Perseverance" by Kirsten Katz
About Me:
I write 'cos words are fun. More about me here. Follow @hackrlife on X
