Opening the kiln

The kiln had been cooling since the previous evening. Inside were twelve bowls, including the one whose uneven rim I had reshaped three times before I was satisfied with it. The test tiles had produced encouraging colours, but larger pieces did not always emerge in quite the same way. I placed my fingers on the latch and then drew them back. Through the small viewing hole, the darkness seemed to conceal a network of cracks. Then I noticed the clay still lodged beneath my fingernails and reminded myself that every bowl could be made again.

In your own words, explain the writer's thoughts and feelings before opening the kiln.