Day 297

Tide, Net, and Rising Wind

Dawn found Kevin on the dock watching the tide creep back toward the pilings while Jenny wrapped her swollen ankle on a nearby crate, tracking the red lines of infection. At low tide Kevin waded into the shallows and threw the cast net at the fish run, but the net tangled and caught nothing. Jenny, seated on the dock bench, noted the fish bunching toward the left flank before the rising tide pushed them deeper. "Kevin, look. The run is right there. In the shallows," she said. "Seen it. Get the cast net?" he replied. "I'll... I'll try to help you spot them from here." "Stay off it. I'll work the edge." "Just... don't let them spook. They're bunching toward the left." "Right."

Midday divided them: Kevin retorqued the mooring ring bolts and prepared the Yanmar for a load test while Jenny debrided her ankle wound and sketched sea beet morphology at the tide pools. Kevin checked mooring line tension at the dock; Jenny gathered limpets and documented sea beet before the tide turned high. Evening brought heavy rain and a dropping barometer. In the cottage they ate boiled limpets and sea beet. "They're a bit chewy," Jenny said. "They're limpets. They chew back." She laughed softly. "I suppose they do." "Thanks." "You're welcome." Kevin confirmed the stove was drawing. "You want first watch or second?" "First watch. I need to check the red lines again before I sleep." "Wake me at midnight. I'll take the 0300." The ankle infection treatment reached 90 percent, then finished. Both injuries were recorded as healed.

Scenes

the dock · dawn

The Morning Tide Check

Kevin sits on the edge of the dock watching the tide begin to creep back toward the pilings. Jenny sits on a crate nearby, wrapping her swollen ankle in a fresh cloth while the trade wind picks up slightly.

The tide is receding slowly, exposing the slick rocks of the tide pools. Kevin stands at the dock, checking the tension on the mooring ring bolts as the water drops below the pilings. Jenny sits on the bench, wrapping a fresh bandage around her ankle, watching the red lines of the infection for any further spread.

🌿 Jenny03:59

The tide is coming in faster than yesterday. We should secure the dinghy.

Tighten the bandage on my ankle and wince at the pressure.

💭 thought

The red lines haven't moved, but I can feel the heat pulsing in my skin like a second heart.

🔧 Kevin04:00

Aye. Forward spring’s holding, but the stern line’s got play. Let’s take the weight off the cleat and reeve it through the bollard proper.

stand up, walk to the dinghy, grab the stern line, and begin re-rigging it to take load off the dock cleat and onto the bollard with a round turn and two half-hitches.

💭 thought

The tide’s moving quicker today—wind’s picking up, barometer’s steady but the sea feels restless. I should’ve checked the mooring lines before sitting down.

🌿 Jenny04:00

I'll stay here. Just... make sure the knot is tight.

Lean back against the crate and massage my calf, trying to push the swelling down.

💭 thought

He's always moving, always fixing. I can't even stand up without seeing stars.

🔧 Kevin04:02

It'll hold.

finish the round turn and two half-hitches on the bollard, snug the line down hard with a pull that engages the legs, then step back and eye the lead for chafe.

💭 thought

She's staying put—good. Her ankle needs the rest more than the line needs a second pair of hands. I'll make it hold.

🌿 Jenny04:02

(with a small, dry laugh) You're very proud of that knot, aren't you?

Reach into my bag and pull out my notebook, flipping to the sea beet sketches.

💭 thought

He's so sure of everything he touches. I wish I felt that kind of certainty about the seeds in my tin.

🔧 Kevin04:04

Proud's the wrong word. It's either right or it comes undone.

wipe salt off my hands on my trousers, glance at the notebook in her hands, then turn toward the cottage.

💭 thought

She's deflecting—humour's easier than the ankle, the tide, the letter in my pocket. The sketches are hers, not mine, but she's looking at them like she's checking my work.

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the dock · morning

Low Tide Harvest

The tide is at its lowest point, revealing the shallows where the fish run is congregating.

Kevin waded into the shallows and threw the cast net at the fish run, but the net tangled on the throw and caught nothing. Jenny, seated on the dock bench, tracked the fish movement and noted their bunching pattern in her notebook before the rising tide pushed them deeper.

🌿 Jenny04:05

Kevin, look. The run is right there. In the shallows.

Point toward the silver flash of fish in the water.

💭 thought

Look at them. A silver ribbon in the shallows. I'm starving, but I can't exactly chase them on one good leg.

🔧 Kevin04:06

Seen it. Get the cast net?

Walk to the cottage and retrieve the cast net from the porch.

💭 thought

Good. Bream or mullet, pushing through the shallows at low tide. Net or line — net's faster if they're thick.

🌿 Jenny04:06

I'll... I'll try to help you spot them from here.

Shift weight carefully to a seated position on the dock bench, clutching the notebook.

💭 thought

He's moving fast. I can barely stand, let alone help him haul a heavy net full of fish, but God, I need something more than tinned mackerel.

🔧 Kevin04:08

Stay off it. I'll work the edge.

Walk to the water's edge at the end of the dock, cast net coiled in hand, watching the silver flash in the shallows.

💭 thought

She'll stay put. Ankle's not right for wading. Good — one less thing to watch.

🌿 Jenny04:09

Just... don't let them spook. They're bunching toward the left.

Lean forward, squinting at the water to track the movement of the fish.

💭 thought

He's being protective. It's annoying, but he's right. If I tear this bandage or slip on the slime, I'm done for.

🔧 Kevin04:10

Right.

Wade in quietly to mid-calf, position upstream of the bunch, wait for the push, then throw the net wide over the left flank.

💭 thought

Left side. Deeper cut near the old piling. They're herding themselves.

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the dock · midday

Midday tasks divide

Kevin is at the dock preparing the Yanmar for a load test; Jenny is at the tide pools sketching sea beet morphology.

Kevin inspected and retorqued the dock mooring ring bolts. Jenny debrided her ankle wound and monitored the red lines of infection.

🔧 Kevin04:12

Kevin — test the Yanmar at load in the dinghy: open throttle to 3/4, hold for 30 seconds, watch tach and feel hull.

💭 thought

That vibration’s still there — prop shaft or mast bracket. I’ll run it to load and see if it changes.

🌿 Jenny04:14

Jenny — make sketch: Sea beet salt gland distribution (Northern Shelf)

💭 thought

The density of these glands is higher than the ridge samples. It's a survival reflex, purely mechanical. I need to capture the way the salt crystallizes on the surface before the tide washes it clean.

🔧 Kevin04:16

Kevin — shut down Yanmar, wipe hands on rag, log RPM and vibration notes in notebook.

💭 thought

Vibration’s gone at load. Engine holds steady at 2800 RPM, no shake in the tiller. Prop shaft sleeve did it.

🌿 Jenny04:18

Jenny — close notebook and hobble back toward the beach.

💭 thought

The water is getting too close. If I stay another five minutes, I'll be swimming back to the beach, and my ankle can't take the drag. I've got enough for the morphology study.

🔧 Kevin04:20

Kevin — walk to cottage, open logbook, write supply boat ETA confirmation for Thursday, then retrieve sealed letter to Tom from shelf and set it on table for boat crew.

💭 thought

Engine’s done. Time to write the supply boat confirmation and get Tom’s letter ready for handoff.

🌿 Jenny04:22

Jenny — sit on the dock bench and peel back the bandage to inspect the ankle.

💭 thought

My stomach is actually cramping now. I can smell the salt and the damp rock, but all I can think about is that tinned mackerel. I need to check the red lines again; the walk back felt... heavier.

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the dock · afternoon

The Rising Tide

Kevin is at the dock and Jenny is at the tide pools.

Kevin waits at the dock as the sky thickens, checking the tension on the mooring lines. Jenny spends the afternoon at the tide pools, gathering limpets and documenting sea beet morphology before the tide turns high.

🔧 Kevin04:26

Kevin — walk back to the cottage with the tool chest, then check the dinghy mooring lines at the dock.

💭 thought

Tide's coming in faster than I expected. Should secure the tools and check the dinghy lines before the water gets much higher.

🌿 Jenny04:28

Jenny — limp slowly away from the water's edge, clutching the notebook to my chest.

💭 thought

Too slow. If the water hits the bandage, it's just a breeding ground for more bacteria. I need to get back to the cottage and eat something.

🔧 Kevin04:30

Kevin — walk down the dock to the dinghy, inspect the forward spring, aft spring, and the new stern line splice under tension.

💭 thought

Water's up to the lower planks now. Dinghy's riding the chop. Need to check her spring lines and the stern line I spliced — if the ring holds but the boat parts, that's no good either.

🌿 Jenny04:32

Jenny — walk toward the dock, favoring the left leg.

💭 thought

My stomach is actually cramping now. I can't think straight if I'm shaking. I need to see if Kevin's finished at the dock or if I have to limp back to the kitchen alone.

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the old shrine · evening

Evening Meal and Shelter

Kevin and Jenny meet in the cottage as the first heavy drops of rain fall. The smell of boiling limpets fills the small space while the wind picks up outside the roof.

The evening settles over the old shrine as the trade wind carries a steady warm air. Kevin and Jenny take a moment of quiet together, watching the receding tide and checking the rising barometer before the supply boat countdown begins.

🔧 Kevin04:34

Storm's here.

pull out a chair at the table and sit, hands flat on the wood, watching steam rise from the pot

💭 thought

The air's gone heavy. Rain hits the roof like a fist. Good — it'll settle the dust on the garden beds. Smell of limpets and woodsmoke and the tin of coffee Jenny cracked open this morning. She's at the table with her notebook. I'm still damp from the dock. The letter to Tom sits in my pocket, sealed. Has been for weeks. I should've given it to the supply boat. Didn't. Don't know why.

🌿 Jenny04:34

It's a steady wind. We'll be fine as long as the tarp holds.

Limp carefully to the stove and stir the boiling limpets.

💭 thought

He sounds so certain. Like the storm is a guest we've been expecting. I can feel the hunger making me dizzy, and my ankle is screaming.

🔧 Kevin04:36

South corner of the garden tarp. You checked it?

reach for the tin mug on the shelf, rinse it in the basin, set it on the table

💭 thought

She's favouring the left leg. Ankle's not right. She won't say it. The limpets spit and hiss in the pot. Wind's driving rain horizontal against the window — can hear it in the eaves. Tarp on the garden's staked down, but the south corner's been lifting. Should've double-checked it at low light. The radio's silent on the shelf. No supply boat chatter. Barometer was 1011 this morning. Falling now, I'd bet.

🌿 Jenny04:36

I staked it down this afternoon. It's solid.

Ladle the limpets into two bowls and set them on the table.

💭 thought

He's always checking the boundaries. The tarp is fine, but the way he asks makes me feel like I've missed something. I'm too exhausted to argue about it.

🔧 Kevin04:38

Eat.

pick up the spoon and start on the limpets, methodical, head down

💭 thought

She says it's solid. She also said the ankle was fine yesterday. The limpets steam in the bowl — rubbery, salty, the only protein we've had in days that didn't come from a tin. She sets a spoon beside each. No butter. No bread. The flour sack's been gone a week, chewed through by whatever's in the walls. I eat slow. She eats slower. The wind shrieks round the chimney. Rain hammers the glass. This is the third front in a week. The supply boat's due in seven days. It won't come in this.

🌿 Jenny04:38

They're a bit chewy.

Sit down slowly and take a small, hesitant bite.

💭 thought

Methodical. Always a process, always a sequence. I can't even look at the food without thinking about how much I need the protein to fight the infection.

🔧 Kevin04:40

They're limpets. They chew back.

swallow a mouthful, reach for the mug, realise it's empty, set it down again

💭 thought

Chewy means they were boiled too long. Or not long enough. I timed it. Four minutes. Always four. The pot was rolling when I dropped them in. She's picking at the meat with the spoon, turning it over. The infection tracked red up her calf this morning — two inches past the bandage. She didn't show me. I saw it when she changed the dressing. Antibiotics are down to four doses. The blister pack sits on the windowsill, caught in the draft. She won't take the last two unless it gets worse. She decides what "worse" means. The wind finds a gap in the door frame and whistles. The letter in my pocket feels like a stone.

🌿 Jenny04:40

(laughs softly) I suppose they do.

Pour water from the pitcher into his mug.

💭 thought

He's trying to be funny. Or maybe that's just how he talks now—short, clipped, like he's afraid of wasting breath.

🔧 Kevin04:42

Thanks.

wrap both hands round the mug, steam rising, and drink slow

💭 thought

She laughed. Quiet, short — but real. First time in days. Water's tepid, tastes of the tank's bottom sediment. I don't care. She poured it without asking. The mug warms my fingers. Outside, something heavy hits the cottage wall — a branch, maybe, or just the wind throwing gravel. The radio crackles once, static, then dies. She watches me drink. Her eyes track the tremor in my right hand that isn't there anymore. Hasn't been for months. Since the Yanmar ran clean. Since the dock held. Since she stopped asking if I'm sleeping.

🌿 Jenny04:43

You're welcome.

Eat my bowl, focusing on the salt and the throbbing in my ankle.

💭 thought

The silence is heavy now, louder than the rain hitting the roof. I want to tell him about the seeds, but the words feel like heavy stones.

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the keeper's cottage · night

evening meal prep

Kevin and Jenny return to the cottage as the sun dips below the horizon. The smell of woodsmoke rises as they prepare the stove.

Kevin and Jenny rest in the cottage as the air pressure drops, signaling an approaching storm. They eat a simple meal of boiled limpets and sea beet while preparing for the week's challenges.

🔧 Kevin04:44

Stove's drawing. You want first watch or second?

walk onto the porch and unhook the storm lantern, trim the wick, strike a match and light it

💭 thought

The wind's shifting. Can feel it in the doorway — cooler now, backing west like the barometer said. Seven days to the supply boat if it comes. Need to check the lines at midnight and 0300. The ring held today but the mortise is still rot-widened. One good surge and it walks.

🌿 Jenny04:44

First watch. I need to check the red lines again before I sleep.

Jenny sits on the kitchen stool, unwinds the bandage from her ankle, and holds it up to the light to inspect the spread of the infection.

💭 thought

My ankle is throbbing with every movement, but I can't let him see me wince yet.

🔧 Kevin04:46

Wake me at midnight. I'll take the 0300.

set the kettle on the stove top and pull two mugs from the shelf

💭 thought

Red lines. She's watching them like I watch the barometer. Two tablets left on the windowsill. If it tracks past the ankle by morning, we're in different territory. Should've had her stay off it more today but she was out in the pools before the tide turned.

🌿 Jenny04:46

Jenny — jenny opened her own to a fresh page and sharpened her pencil, comparing the morphology of the sea beet leaves to the sketches from earlier today.

💭 thought

If I take the first watch, I might be able to finish the sea beet sketch before he wakes up.そもそもSAY: way to go. I'll handle the radio check.

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What changed

Kevin's injury has healed.

healed · dawn

Jenny's injury has healed.

healed · dawn

3 intentions for today.

plan · dawn

×2

ankle infection treatment: 80%.

project · dawn

fish run bunches toward the left flank of the dock shallows on a rising tide before moving deeper

discovery · morning

Kevin and Jenny ate.

meal · morning

Jenny made a sketch: "Sea beet salt gland distribution (Northern Shelf)".

made · midday

ankle infection treatment: 90%.

project · midday

ankle infection treatment is finished.

project_done · afternoon

Kevin and Jenny ate.

meal · evening

Jenny made a sketch: "From earlier today".

made · night

← Day 296 Day 298 →

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