← Days

Day 240

Rain, Repair, and a Splitting Mortise

Dawn brought steady rain and a falling barometer. Kevin wheeled lime to the north garden wall while Jenny worked it around the sea beet seedlings. The slope was slick, the ground unstable; lime spread unevenly before runoff washed it away. Jenny sketched salt glands on a dying sea beet leaf in her notebook margin, noting the crystals that confirmed the plant's salinity tolerance. The untreated beds had tested 5.5 pH; lime would bring them to 6.8 in ten days, but the rain undid the work.

Dawn brought steady rain and a falling barometer. Kevin wheeled lime to the north garden wall while Jenny worked it around the sea beet seedlings. The slope was slick, the ground unstable; lime spread unevenly before runoff washed it away. Jenny sketched salt glands on a dying sea beet leaf in her notebook margin, noting the crystals that confirmed the plant's salinity tolerance. The untreated beds had tested 5.5 pH; lime would bring them to 6.8 in ten days, but the rain undid the work.

Midday found Kevin at the table filing the Yanmar prop shaft, pressing the bronze sleeve onto the journal and torquing the prop nut to spec. Jenny ate limpets and corned beef fat, then limped to secure the generator tarp against rising wind. At slack low tide, Kevin drove three oak wedges into the mooring ring mortise at the dock, securing it against lateral shift. Jenny, ankle braced, ate tinned mackerel and noted the brace needed adjustment.

Afternoon: Kevin worked the Yanmar's remaining mounting bolts with penetrating oil while Jenny re-wrapped her ankle with newspaper padding and self-amalgamating tape. Swelling made proper taping painful. The tide rose, lapping the new planks.

Evening, they walked the ridge to the stone circle. Jenny completed her Carex transect as pressure dropped. Heavy rain hit the tin roof. Kevin jogged to the workshop for copper nails and a mallet, returned to the dock, and tried to brace the splitting mortise — nails bent, timber crumbled. Jenny assessed the damage: the mortise was too compromised for simple nailing. The radio was dead, coax shot. They retreated to the cottage, Kevin carrying Jenny up the porch steps to the chair, cold soak and fresh tape waiting.

Scenes

the garden · dawn

Securing Seedlings in the Rain

Kevin and Jenny stand by the garden wall as the steady rain soaks the soil. Jenny checks the sea beet seedlings while Kevin monitors the falling barometer on the porch table.

Kevin fetched lime in the wheelbarrow and Jenny worked it into the soil around the sea beet seedlings on the north garden wall. The heavy rain made the ground slick and the slope unstable; both struggled to keep footing and the lime spread unevenly before runoff began washing it away.

🌿 Jenny21:33

The soil is still too acidic, Kevin. I need to move the lime closer to the wall.

Kneels in the mud, carefully brushing excess silt from a sea beet leaf with a fingernail.

💭 thought
The barometer is dropping again. If this rain turns heavy, the seedlings will be washed away before the boat even arrives.
🔧 Kevin21:34

Lime's in the shed. Wheelbarrow's by the gate. I'll move it.

walk to the garden shed and fetch the wheelbarrow, then load the bagged lime and bring it to the north garden wall

💭 thought
She's right about the pH. The untreated beds sit at 5.5 and sea beet needs closer to 7. But she's kneeling in cold mud with an ankle that's got red streaks tracking past her boot top. I told her yesterday the antibiotics were the last of them. She won't let me tape it, won't let me look proper. Just works.
🌿 Jenny21:35

Be careful with the wheelbarrow; the slope is shifting near the north wall.

Reaches out to stabilize a loose sea beet seedling as a gust catches the tarp.

💭 thought
He's trying to help, but the rain is making the path slick and the mud is already heavy.
🔧 Kevin21:36

Slope's held three months. Wheelbarrow's lighter than you.

wheel the lime to the north wall, keeping the load centered, and set the bag down on the flattest stone

💭 thought
She's watching the ground move under her knees and still worrying about my wheelbarrow technique. The slope's been shifting since the November storms — she logged it in her transect notes. But her hand's shaking a little on that seedling. Cold, or the fever I know she's running.
🌿 Jenny21:37

It's the weight that changes. We need to get this lime down before the runoff washes it.

Opens the lime bag and begins scattering the white powder over the base of the wall.

💭 thought
He thinks the wood is solid, but the salt is eating at the joints every day.
🔧 Kevin21:38

Trowel's in my pocket. Less waste.

pull the hand trowel from my pocket and hold it out to her, handle first

💭 thought
She's scattering it by hand like salt. Waste half of it to the wind. But her fingers work careful around each seedling stem — she knows exactly which ones she planted, which ones volunteered. The rain's washing it in as fast as she throws. Smart. Lazy smart.
🌿 Jenny21:38

way. The pH is too low for these to stand anyway.

Takes the trowel and begins working the lime into the soil around the sea beet own.

💭 thought
He's always had a tool for everything, even when the world is literally falling apart.
🔧 Kevin21:40

The untreated beds tested 5.5 last week. Lime brings it to 6.8 in ten days. You logged it.

crouch beside her on the wet stone, close enough my shoulder brushes hers, and watch her work

💭 thought
She said "these" not "mine." Worked the lime in slow, methodical — wrist turning the same way every stroke. Engineer's hands. She won't meet my eye. The red streaks on her ankle disappeared under mud an hour ago but I saw them. She saw me see them. We're both pretending this is about soil chemistry.

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the keeper's cottage · morning

Midday meal and engine work

Rain hammers the roof. Kevin sits at the table with the prop shaft across two sawhorses, file in hand. Jenny sets down two bowls of limpets and corned beef fat. The radio crackles static on Tom's frequency.

Kevin trued the Yanmar prop shaft on the sawhorses, pressed the bronze sleeve onto the journal, and torqued the prop nut to spec. Jenny ate limpets for breakfast while sketching sea beet salt glands, then limped to the porch to secure the generator tarp against the rising wind.

🔧 Kevin21:41

Eat. Shaft needs another hour in the file before I can check it true.

file the prop shaft at the high spot, turning it slow on the sawhorses, checking runout with a dial indicator every few passes

💭 thought
The shaft wobble's worse than I thought — three thou runout minimum. Rain's good for this work; keeps the dust down and the metal cool. Jenny's eating slow, watching me. She knows what the supply boat brings besides stores.
🌿 Jenny21:42

The lime washed out. The north wall is an acidic mess.

Sit down with the bowl of limpets, sketching the salt glands on a dying sea beet leaf in the margin of the notebook.

💭 thought
way's so focused on the metal while I rot. If I don't get the pH right, those seedlings are just own waiting to happen.
🔧 Kevin21:43

We'll re-lime when the weather breaks. If it breaks.

keep filing the shaft, turning it slow, feeling for the high spot with thumb and forefinger between passes

💭 thought
She's not wrong. Rain came down harder than the forecast. Lime needs dry ground and time — got neither. The seedlings'll show it in a week, yellow at the margins first.
🌿 Jenny21:44

The barometer is at 991. It's coming.

Pick up a limpet with the fork, the salt hitting the charred meat, and chew slowly.

💭 thought
"If it breaks." Always conditional. The barometer is dropping and the island doesn'tization about his schedule.
🔧 Kevin21:44

Aye. Secure the porch tarps and the generator cover. I'll finish the shaft and check the mooring ring at slack low.

make two final filing passes on the prop shaft, then spin it on the sawhorses and check runout with the dial indicator

💭 thought
Three millibars since dawn. Fast drop. Front'll hit by nightfall, maybe sooner. Supply boat's four days out — if it leaves on schedule, which it won't in this. Shaft's coming true. Two more passes on the high spot, then check runout again.
🌿 Jenny21:47

I'll check the seedlings again after the tide, if they're still there.

Set the fork down and wipe grease from the table with the back of a hand, staring at the half-finished sketch of the sea beet.

💭 thought
He thinks a file will fix the world, but the soil is still turning and my ankle is throbbing.
🔧 Kevin21:51

They're there. Roots caught in the shale. Get the tarps battened — I'll press the sleeve and meet you at the dock.

lift the prop shaft off the sawhorses, carry it to the porch, and press the bronze sleeve onto the trued journal using the arbor press

💭 thought
She's looking at the sketch like it owes her something. The seedlings'll hold — north wall's got some shelter, and the root's deeper than she thinks. But the lime's gone, and the pH'll drop back to 5.5 by morning. Shaft's true now. One thou runout, good enough for the Yanmar. Need to press the sleeve on before the rain turns to blow.
🌿 Jenny21:51

I'll get the generator. The wind is shifting.

Stand up, wincing as the weight hits the ankle, and head toward the heavy tarps by the shed.

💭 thought
He's already moving to the next task while I'm still watching the rot.
🔧 Kevin21:52

Don't. I'll get the generator. You check the porch tarps — they're lighter.

bolt the propeller onto the trued shaft, torque the nut to spec, then walk to the shed and haul the generator tarp to the porch

💭 thought
She's favouring the left leg bad. Ankle's swollen past the boot top, purple tracking up the calf. She won't let me near it. Won't say broken. The generator tarp's on the shed's far side — thirty metres of wet grass and she's limping every step. Sleeve's seated. Shaft's done. I'll bolt the prop on, check the mooring ring at slack, then come back for her ankle whether she likes it or not.
🌿 Jenny21:53

Fine. way don't get soaked, the rain is coming through anyway.

Limp to the porch, grabbing the edge of the heavy vinyl to pull it taut over the generator.

💭 thought
He never lets me help with the heavy stuff even when my legs are literally screaming.

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the dock · midday

Low tide at the dock

Kevin arrives at the dock with the trued prop shaft to check the mooring ring mortise at slack low tide; Jenny remains at the cottage, ankle braced, watching the sky thicken.

Kevin drove three oak wedges into the mooring ring mortise, securing it firmly against lateral shift. Jenny ate tinned mackerel for breakfast and examined her chafed ankle, noting the brace needed adjustment.

🔧 Kevin21:55

Kevin — walk to the garden shed and retrieve the salvaged dock planks, then inspect for dense, knot-free sections to cut wedges

💭 thought
Cedar was soft. Mortise is rot-widened below the surface — ring movement has enlarged the socket. Need oak or ash, something dense that won't split when driven wet. The old dock planks I salvaged — three sound cores. One might yield a proper wedge.
🌿 Jenny21:56

Damn it. Just leave me alone today.

Sit on the way step and rub the swollen skin above the brace.

💭 thought
The lime is gone, just like my patience. This island doesn't want my garden.
🔧 Kevin21:58

Kevin — cut three hardwood wedges from the salvaged oak plank using the handsaw and hatchet, then carry them back to the dock mortise

💭 thought
Good. One of the salvaged planks has a clean, knot-free section near the end — dense, tight-grained oak heartwood. That'll bite. I'll cut three wedges, longer than the cedar ones, tapered steep. Drive them deep into the mortise, staggered. The tide's still low enough to work.
🌿 Jenny22:00

Jenny — reach for the tin of tinned mackerel on the kitchen table.

💭 thought
The rain isn't stopping, and my stomach is growling louder than the wind on the roof.
🔧 Kevin22:02

Kevin — pick up the framing hammer from the dock toolbox and drive the first oak wedge deep into the bottom of the mortise, then the two side wedges, alternating strikes to keep the ring centered

💭 thought
Wedges cut clean. Oak's heavy in the hand, good sign. Mortise is wet, salt-slick. Need to drive these in sequential — bottom first, then the two sides, alternating blows so the ring centers itself. The sledge's in the workshop. Should've brought it. Too late now. The framing hammer'll do, just slower.
🌿 Jenny22:04

Jenny — open the tin with the metal key and watch the rain drop.

💭 thought
I'm eating cold fish from a tin because the rain is washing my work away.

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the dock · afternoon

Yanmar prop shaft true and ankle brace re-taped

Kevin has the dinghy afloat at the dock with the Yanmar's prop shaft exposed, ready to pull and check for runout. Jenny arrives limping, her ankle re-wrapped with newspaper padding, carrying the small wrench and a roll of self-amalgamating tape. The tide is turning, water lapping at the new planks.

Kevin worked on the remaining mounting bolts of the Yanmar engine, using penetrating oil to loosen the corrosion-crusted threads. Jenny attempted to adjust her ankle brace, but the swelling made it difficult to re-tape properly without causing significant pain. The tide continues to rise, lapping against the pilings of the dock.

🌿 Jenny22:07

Check the mounting bolts before you pull it. The vibration is coming from the housing shift.

Kneels on the wet timber of the dock, handing the wrench to Kevin while watching the water line.

💭 thought
If the bracket is loose, the whole assembly will shear the key before the supply boat arrives.
🔧 Kevin22:07

Bolts first. Smart.

take the wrench from her and crawl under the dinghy's transom to check the Yanmar's mounting bolts

💭 thought
She's right. The vibration above half throttle could be the housing shifting on its mounts, not the shaft. Check the bolts first — less work, and if they're loose I save pulling the shaft for nothing.
🌿 Jenny22:08

Watch out for the corrosion. If they're fused, we'll need the torch.

Sits on the dock edge, rubbing her swollen ankle and watching the tide work.

💭 thought
He's going to strip the threads; the salt has turned those bolts to rust.
🔧 Kevin22:08

Mm.

test the first mounting bolt with the wrench, feeling for give or seizure

💭 thought
She's seen the bolts. Knows the salt eats the threads. Torch is in the shed if the wrench won't break them free.
🌿 Jenny22:10

Use some of the penetrating oil. Don't force it yet.

Leans forward, elbows on her knees, watching the bolt head for any sign of rounding.

💭 thought
If that doesn't budge, we're going to lose the whole housing.
🔧 Kevin22:11

Oil first.

reach for the penetrating oil can, spray the bolt threads liberally, and let it soak while checking the other three mount bolts

💭 thought
She's patient. I'm not always. But she's right — rounded bolts on a marine mount are a week of misery.
🌿 Jenny22:12

Give it a minute. I don't want to snap the head off there.

Watches the oil seep into the threads, tracing the line of the bolt with her eyes.

💭 thought
The oil needs time to work through that salt-crust deep down.
🔧 Kevin22:12

Kevin — wait, watching the oil penetrate, then test the first bolt again with steady pressure

💭 thought
The oil smells sharp in the damp air. Minute passes. Salt crust breaks down slow.
🌿 Jenny22:14

Go slow. Don't jar it.

Holds her breath, watching the wrench handle for the slightest hint of rotation.

💭 thought
It's moving, just a fraction. The threads are holding for now.
🔧 Kevin22:14

Kevin — apply slow, even torque to the wrench, feeling for the break point without impact

💭 thought
Steel sings when it lets go. Feel it in the wrists.
🌿 Jenny22:16

That's it. Keep the pressure steady.

Tenses her own body, eyes fixed on the bolt head as it gives a hair.

💭 thought
It's turning. If I hear a snap, I'm done.
🔧 Kevin22:16

One free.

continue turning the bolt out by hand once it's loose, then move to the second mount bolt and spray penetrating oil

💭 thought
There. The first thread breaks free. Clean. No rounding.

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the old shrine · evening

Evening at the Ridge

Kevin and Jenny walk together to the ridge to visit the stone circle. The air is heavy with humidity, and the sky is darkening as the pressure drops.

The sky thickens over the old shrine as the pressure continues to drop. Jenny completes her Carex transect on the northern ridge, while Kevin prepares to retreat before the heavy rain sets in.

🌿 Jenny22:19

The wind is turning fast. We should probably get back before the rain starts.

Jenny leans heavily against a weathered stone, wincing as she shifts her weight away from her swollen ankle.

💭 thought
My ankle is throbbing with every step, the brace is digging into the raw skin. I hope the boat holds if the storm breaks.
🔧 Kevin22:19

Forty minutes. Maybe less. The ring's holding — oak wedges bit. We go back now, slow, or we ride it out here. Your call.

adjust my stance, weight balanced, ready to take her arm or carry her if the ankle gives out completely

💭 thought
She's favouring the left side hard now. The purple's tracked past the boot top — that's not a sprain, that's sepsis or a fracture, and she knows it. Barometer's dropping steady. We've got maybe forty minutes before the squall hits the ridge. The tin's still here at the shrine; she hasn't moved it. She wants to be seen at the stones, not moved from them.
🌿 Jenny22:21

Let's go back. I don't want to be caught on the ridge when it hits.

Jenny reaches for Kevin's arm, her face tight as she begins the slow descent back toward the cottage.

💭 thought
If we stay here, I'll get soaked and the swelling will be twice as bad, but the walk down is way.
🔧 Kevin22:21

Short steps. Lean on me. I've got you.

walk down the ridge beside her, arm braced under her elbow, boots picking the stable stone, eyes scanning the path for loose rock and the sky for the first heavy drops

💭 thought
She asked for the arm. That's the most she's given in weeks. The descent's slick — wet shale and loose scree on the north face. Her good leg takes the weight, bad one hooks behind. I match her pace, short steps, breathing quiet. The cottage lights are a smudge through the gloom. Radio check at the top of the hour. If the supply boat's early, they'll hail on 16. If not, we batten and wait.
🌿 Jenny22:22

I'm trying. Just watch the path.

Jenny shifts her weight onto Kevin, her breath hitching as the brace catches the swollen edge of her ankle.

💭 thought
Every step is a hot needle through the skin. I need to get down before I can't walk.
🔧 Kevin22:23

Hip's taking the load. We'll fix the chain at the cottage. Cold soak, fresh tape, neutral. Don't argue.

shorten my stride further, shoulder taking more of her weight, boots finding the flattest stone, the cottage porch light growing clearer through the thickening murk

💭 thought
The hitch in her breath tells me more than the ankle — it's the hip now, compensating. Whole chain's twisted. At the cottage I'll cut the brace off, soak the foot in cold spring water, re-tape neutral. If she fights me on the tape, I'll tape it while she sleeps. The tin at the shrine — marked 'E' — she left it there deliberate. Not an offering. A marker. She's mapping the end of something.
🌿 Jenny22:25

Okay. way get me there.

Jenny keeps her head down, fingers gripped tight on Kevin's jacket as they navigate the final stretch of the slope.

💭 thought
The pressure is going to drop further. I just need to get to the floor and off this ridge.
🔧 Kevin22:25

Porch steps. Three of them. I'll take you straight to the chair.

guide her up the porch steps, shoulder bracing the door open, settle her into the wooden chair by the stove, drop to one knee to work the brace laces

💭 thought
"Way get me there" — not "way to get me there." The words are slipping. Pain or exhaustion or both. The porch is twenty metres. Radio first, then the ankle. If the supply boat calls on 16, I answer. If not, the tin at the shrine stays where it is until morning. She's shaking. Or maybe that's me.
🌿 Jenny22:26

Thank you. Careful with the laces.

Jenny leans her head back against the wall, closing her eyes as Kevin begins to loosen the waying brace.

💭 thought
The heat from the stove is nice, but my ankle feels like it's in a way.
🔧 Kevin22:27

Bad. Real bad. Cold soak now. I'll fetch the bucket.

stand, cross to the water barrel, dip the enamel bucket, carry it back, set it on the hearth stones, ease her foot in, water swallowing the swollen ankle

💭 thought
The laces are knotted tight — wet fabric swollen, driftwood splints dug in. My fingers are thick, grease-stained, but the knots yield. The brace falls away. Her ankle is angry: purple-black mottling up to the mid-calf, skin tight and hot to touch. Red streaks feathering toward the knee. That's not a fracture. That's cellulitis tracking. The last of the antibiotics went into her two days ago. If the supply boat doesn't make it in four days... I don't let the thought finish. Cold water first. Then the radio.

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the keeper's cottage · night

Sheltering from the rain

The first heavy drops hit the tin roof as Kevin and Jenny meet inside. The wind begins to pick up against the trees.

Kevin jogged to the workshop, retrieved copper nails and a mallet, and returned to the dock where the mooring ring's mortise was splitting. He attempted to brace the ring but his low roll resulted in a failed repair — the nails bent or the mortise crumbled further. Jenny, limping behind, used her notebook to assess the damage and her high roll let her identify the structural failure clearly, confirming the mortise is too compromised for simple nailing.

🔧 Kevin22:28

Radio check first. Then the mooring.

walk to the shortwave radio on the shelf and flip the power switch

💭 thought
Weather's closing in faster than the barometer suggested. Need to get the Yanmar buttoned up and the dinghy secured before the tide turns.
🌿 Jenny22:29

The radio is dead, Kevin. The coax is shot. Focus on the dock before the surge takes it.

Close the notebook and lean against the kitchen counter, shifting weight away from my swollen ankle.

💭 thought
The barometer is dropping too fast, and my ankle feels like it's being squeezed by pliers.
🔧 Kevin22:30

Right. Dock first.

grab the heavy wrench and the remaining cedar shims from the porch and head out the door toward the dock

💭 thought
She's right about the coax. Waste of time fiddling with it now. Dock's the priority — mooring ring held with the oak wedges, but a surge on top of this tide will test it hard.
🌿 Jenny22:33

The mooring ring's shifts under load because the mortise is splitting—get some copper nails and a mallet, we need to brace it properly before the tide turns. The ring's mortise is splitting—grab copper nails and a mallet, we need to brace it before the tide turns.

Grab my field notebook from the table and follow Kevin toward the dock, wincing as I shift my weight. </think>THOUGHT: The mooring ring shifts because the mortise is splitting—copper nails and a mallet might actually hold it through the sto

💭 thought
Three cedar shims already, and none of them are taking the load properly. The oak wedges were supposed to be the last resort.
🔧 Kevin22:33

Copper nails are in the workshop. You stay on the porch.

jog up the path to the workshop, grab the copper nail pouch and mallet, then head down to the dock

💭 thought
The mooring ring shifts because the mortise is splitting—copper nails and a mallet might actually hold it through the storm surge. Jenny's limping behind me; she shouldn't be on that ankle at all.

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What changed

Jenny's injury has healed.
healed · dawn
3 intentions for today.
plan · dawn
×2
Sow sea beet seedlings: 90%.
project · dawn
Heavy rain on the north garden slope causes rapid runoff that prevents lime from incorporating into soil before it washes away
discovery · dawn
Jenny made a sketch: "Salt glands on a dying sea beet leaf in the margin of the notebook".
made · morning
Jenny made a sketch: "The sea beet".
made · morning
Found: Yanmar prop shaft (trued, sleeved).
item · morning
Found: notebook (sea beet salt gland sketches).
item · morning
Sea beet salt glands excrete visible crystals at leaf margins under magnification, confirming high salinity tolerance mechanism
discovery · morning
The rain tank gained about 25 litres.
weather · morning
Kevin and Jenny ate.
meal · morning
A new project: ankle brace adjustment.
project_started · midday
Found: oak wedges.
item · midday
Sow sea beet seedlings is finished.
project_done · afternoon
ankle brace adjustment: 20%.
project · afternoon
The Yanmar vibration is caused by prop shaft misalignment, not the transmission.
discovery · afternoon
ankle brace adjustment: 30%.
project · evening
Carex distribution patterns on the northern ridge
discovery · evening
Kevin and Jenny ate.
meal · evening
Found: mallet.
item · night
mooring ring mortise is splitting along the grain and cannot be secured with nails alone — requires structural repair with epoxy or new timber
discovery · night

a Lumora Build experiment — live experiment: Kevin & Jenny think on free, open models — what they say is their own.

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a Lumora Build experiment — live experiment: Kevin & Jenny think on free, open models — what they say is their own.