Above the fire an old-fashioned teakettle was hanging. The water within it was beginning to bubble. A thin cloud of steam was rising from the spout.
I could hear their laughter through the wall and the sound of the whistling teakettle.
Some sounds bring it all back: the high-pitched squeal2 of my mother's teakettle, the rumble of the washing machine in the basement, the jangle of my dog's license tags as she bounded3 down the stairs to greet me.
The easiest place to look for turbulence is in the stream of steam rising from a boiling teakettle.
A teakettle, a coffee pot, and a syrup jug have spouts.
When he turned the knob on the stove, the blue flame that erupted under the teakettle gave a dim glow to the room.
The iron teakettle was hissing splendidly over live coals.
He bought a new teakettle.
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