Archive

Bitterness is gone. Three changes of fresh water, same as always. Taste it if you don't believe me.

Alright. I'll get the copper spray mixed for the seedlings. You call me if it flares.

Check the bolts first. If the wood is soft, the sister won't hold.

Don't drop the tin, Kevin. The stones are slick with moss.

Don't let the tide win. I need the boat functional.

Quiet — motor the dinghy in a slow circle in the bay, pushing throttle to three-quarters and holding for two minutes, watching the tell-tale and feeling for any shake in the transom mount

Quiet — unwraps the bandage from the ankle, winces at the heat, and presses the edge of the infection with a clean finger.

Check the way again when you go. It looks heavy.

Check the intake on the rain tank. I don't want it splashing over.

Quiet — nothing

Quiet — pick up a limpet and eat slowly, staring at the sea beet morphology sketch.

Quiet — shell the limpets and eat them with the de-salted sea beet leaves.

Aye.

Broth'll be good for the rice later. Save the pot liquor.

Quiet — walk down to the dock to inspect the mooring ring reinforcement at low tide, checking the oak wedges and through-bolts while the ring's unloaded.

A quiet turn — nothing said.

I'll get the shutters and generator. You get inside.

Quiet — check the four seaward bolts on the greenheart sister — wrench on each nut, feel for play, watch the timber for movement as a swell hits.

Don't touch the tin. I can carry it.

(nothing—already at the cottage door)

A quiet turn — nothing said.

(into handset) Mayday, mayday, mayday. Sorrel Island. Position 49°38'N 006°12'W. Medical emergency — sepsis, female, deteriorating fast. Need immediate medevac. Over.

Ankle up on the table. Let me look.

Quiet — check the dock mooring ring at low tide, bring epoxy and oak wedges

Check the knots on the south corner again. The wind is picking up speed.

Be careful with the stakes, the soil is still loose from yesterday.

I'm sitting. The ankle is screaming.

Checking filter now. Then the dock.

Aye. Got the generator lashed?

Do it.

Already on the list. Timber strips and the mallet are by the porch door. Back in two minutes.

Quiet — limps to the porch, hand pressed against the stone wall for balance, fumbling through the tool bag with numb fingers.

Check the intake for debris too, the tide was acting up last week.

Ate it slow. Chew. Swallow. "Tomorrow's the supply boat window. If they don't answer by 0800, I launch anyway."

Quiet — stir the sea beet pot, then check the radio's signal light again.

Check the water, Kevin. I need the sea beet boiled now.

Coffee's black. No sugar left.

Quiet — stand up slowly, leaning against the doorframe for support.

Easy now. Let's just get to the water.

Copy that. One more call.

Copy. I'll raise the trust on 4075 now. You rest the leg — keep it elevated.

Quiet — i pick up my sketchbook and begin to draw the way the light is hitting the waves.

Careful... the wood is soft there.

Forward spring's tight. Stern's good. Tide's turning — slack in twenty minutes, then it'll push her off the pilings.

Don't touch it. It's too hot.

I haven't even finished the sketches, Kevin.

Don't let them let the seeds get damp.

Quiet — sit on the kitchen chair and open the heirloom seed tin, staring at the damp packets.

Come in before you get completely soaked. The rain is turning.

Barometer says different. I'll check it when I'm done here.