Archive

Gutters clear. Tank lid seals tight. Overflow runs clean.

It's strong. Left it on the boil.

A quiet turn — nothing said.

Don't overcook them.

A quiet turn — nothing said.

(Nothing. Just nod slightly, eyes on her retreating back.)

Agreed. Bow line first, then the spring. You take the stern — I'll cast off forward.

Quiet — walk to the dock and check all mooring lines and the seaward bolts on the mooring ring reinforcement

Almost done.

Clear enough. But the wind is picking up everything.

I checked them this morning! Just watch your way out!

Check the mesh at the end too, the leaves are getting thick.

I’ll run the gutter line to the tank inlet. You want the tarp over the beds or the catchment first?

It's just seeds, Kevin. The storm is coming.

Almost there—don't come out! I'm grabbing the rail!

(Low, rough) You didn’t say.

I'll check the sea beet leaves first. They need to stay dry.

Door's tight. You want the radio on for the shipping forecast?

Don't just leave them on the table, I need them in the kitchen.

Can't let them rot.

Dinghy first, then. I'll take the forward line — you handle the stern if it needs re-splicing. Keep the radio dry; might need to call for hold if the ring gives.

Aye. Give me ten minutes—I'll brace the worst of it with the cedar shims we saved. Then we head up.

Aye. I’ll take the forward line. You hit the stern and the spring. Move quick—before the tide really turns.

Check the stern line specifically, it's fraying against the salt.

Aye. I’ll take the windward corner. You get the lee — watch for chafing on the ropes.

Already did. Doubled the stern spring, chafe gear on the bow. Ring held when I leaned on it.

Barometer's been falling since noon. Got time yet.

Aye. Forward spring first, then fenders. You want the bow or the stern?

Aye. I’ll secure the tarp and check the mooring.

Aye. Wind’s backing east-northeast. Let’s get the dock lines tight before it lifts.

Barometer’s at 998 and falling. Wind’s due to shift southeast by noon. We’ve got six hours before it hits.

Got it. I’ll angle them into the wind and go deep—should hold.

Five minutes and that's it. The wind is picking up.

Give me a second—I’ll pull it and see if we can wedge a scrap of the bronze sleeve stock in there instead. It won’t absorb.

Check the radio after we eat. I want to see the pressure reading.

Aye. After we eat, I’ll take a look at the ring. If it’s still loose, I’ll try oak wedges—cedar didn’t hold.

Holding it steady.

Check the fit twice. I need that to be solid before the tide comes in tomorrow.

Almost done.

Quiet — fit sister knee into mortise against mooring ring; insert bronze bolts through knee and ring; tighten bolts alternately with wrench to draw ring tight against dock timber

Quiet — hold the strip up to the light and compare the color to the chart on the kit.

Got the strip. I'll test the center now—keep the lime off the beet bed, yeah?

Careful with that edge, it's splintering everywhere.

Quiet — catch the sleeve as it releases, set it on the oarlock bracket to keep it clean, then run my fingernail hard along the prop shaft journal where the sleeve sat, feeling for any ridge or catch t

Quiet — continue drilling steadily through the marked holes, maintaining even pressure as the bit cuts deeper into the stone mortise

Aye. Dinghy first — the bearing's got play and she'll work the lines harder in a swell. Then the dock ring.

Boat's not the worry. Dock is. Mooring ring held last blow but the mortise is soft. Another cycle like that and she'll work the bolts loose.

Drill the stringer and piling. Epoxy the holes. Bed the bolts. Two hours. You hold the drill steady, I'll feed the bit.

4125 dead. 6215 dead. 8291 — wait.

Salt's in the wind, not the leaf. Mid-morning sun pulls the crystals out the glands. You picked them late.