Day 308

Rot, Seed, and Engine

Dawn found Kevin on the dock measuring a greenheart plank against the south piling. The rot had advanced forty centimeters up from the waterline into the beam junction; fibers were completely hollowed along the saltwater wicking path, though the inland face remained sound. "The wood is too soft for that bolt, Kevin. It won't hold the tension when the boat hits," Jenny said from her crate, checking moisture in the heirloom seed tin. "Mortise is gone past the first inch. Bolt'd just spin in wet sponge." She sketched the rot pattern in the margin of her notebook. They braced the section before the tide turned, cutting out the worst and sistering a greenheart knee with epoxy, but rising water forced them to leave the greenheart plank unfitted. By midday they split: Kevin secured temporary braces against the incoming tide while Jenny tested soil pH and planted the first heirloom seeds in trays. "The soil pH is perfect. I'm starting the trays today before the sun drops," she said. A pod of dolphins passed close off the point. At three Kevin tested the Yanmar in the dinghy. "Running smooth past two thousand. Taking her to three." Vibration showed in the mounts, not the drive. The starboard bolt was loose in a softened transom. "Rot's deep. We'll sister with greenheart, use the polyester resin from the generator kit — warm it in the sun, it'll kick." They sistered the starboard bolt hole with greenheart. Evening meal was boiled limpets and tinned mackerel. Kevin sanded the cured epoxy flush; Jenny sorted seeds by lantern light. "I'll run it under load in the dinghy first light," Kevin said. "If it shudders, I'll tear the mounts apart again." "Don't overtorque the bolts," Jenny replied. "The wood is softer than it looks."

Scenes

the dock · dawn

The Morning Inspection

Kevin stands on the edge of the dock measuring the greenheart plank against the rotting piling. Jenny sits on a crate nearby, checking the moisture levels in the heirloom seed tin.

Kevin and Jenny inspect the structural integrity of the dock's mooring ring as the tide rises. Kevin discovers that the rot has progressed deeper into the support beams than the previous inspection suggested. Jenny prepares the heirloom seedlings for planting while they assess the damage together.

🌿 Jenny13:47

The wood is too soft for that bolt, Kevin. It won't hold the tension when the boat hits.

Jenny closes the seed tin with a sharp click and stands up, wiping grit from her palms.

💭 thought

If I don't plant them today, the humidity will take them anyway, and I'll just be watching them rot.

🔧 Kevin13:47

Mortise is gone past the first inch. Bolt'd just spin in wet sponge.

tap the piling with the handle of the heavy wrench, testing the give, then crouch to sight along the greenheart sister plank's fit against the mortise face

💭 thought

She's right about the piling — greenheart's dense but the mortise is salt-eaten past holding a through-bolt. Need to sister deeper or epoxy-bed the ring itself.

🌿 Jenny13:48

Then stop measuring and help me move the trays. The soil pH is perfect and the light is fading.

way kicks a loose wood shaving out of the way and heads toward the cottage with the tin tucked under her arm.

💭 thought

He's right about the wood, but he's wrong thinking the seeds can wait for the dock.

🔧 Kevin13:49

Trays can wait. Dock won't.

set the wrench down on the crate, pull the greenheart sister plank tight against the mortise, and drive the first oak wedge home with the mallet

💭 thought

She's shifting the work to me without saying it — seed trays first, dock after. Light's still got two hours but she won't argue the tide.

🌿 Jenny13:51

Fine. Work. But don't come to me when the seedlings are mush by morning.

Jenny stops at the edge of the jetty, watching him hammer the wood, then turns back toward the garden.

💭 thought

He's so way about the structure. If the dock fails, we can't get off anyway.

🔧 Kevin13:51

Seedlings'll keep. Ring goes, we're swimming.

drive the second oak wedge beside the first, checking the ring's play after each blow

💭 thought

She's not wrong. Damping-off moves fast in this damp. But the supply boat hits in six days and if that ring pulls out, we lose the dinghy, the engine, the only way off.

🌿 Jenny13:52

If that ring slips, I'm not eating limpets for another month.

Jenny walks back to the half-weeded garden, the seed tin heavy against her hip.

💭 thought

He thinks the world is as simple as a tight joint. The salt is eating everything else.

🔧 Kevin13:53

You won't.

drive the third oak wedge home, then grab the heavy wrench to test the mooring ring's play under torque

💭 thought

Third wedge should lock it. Greenheart's not moving now — mortise is tight enough the ring won't walk.

🌿 Jenny13:55

We'll see when the tide turns.

Jenny kneels by the prepared garden bed and opens the heirloom seed tin.

💭 thought

He's so sure the wood is holding, but I can see the rot spreading.

🔧 Kevin13:55

We'll see.

stand up, brace a foot on the dock plank, and heave hard on the mooring ring with both hands, testing for shift

💭 thought

She's waiting to see if the ring holds. I am too. One sharp tug and we'll know.

Open this scene on its own page →

the keeper's cottage · morning

Morning Day 309

The sun is up as you both gather inside to discuss the repairs needed. The sound of the tide lapping against the weakened pilings is constant.

Kevin and Jenny began emergency repairs on the south dock piling but the rising tide forced them to abandon the work before completing the sister knee installation. The rotten section was exposed and temporary braces placed, but the greenheart plank remains unfitted.

🌿 Jenny13:57

We need to brace up the south section before the tide comes in, or the whole thing will shear.

Trace a rough sketch of the rot pattern on the margin of my notebook.

💭 thought

If the dock goes, the boat can't land, and I'm just a ghost on a sinking rock.

🔧 Kevin13:59

Show me.

walk to the dock with Jenny, inspect the south piling and beam junction at waterline

💭 thought

The rot's eaten past the sister plank into the main beam. She's right — south section goes next high tide if we don't brace it now.

🌿 Jenny13:59

Look right here where the beam meets the piling—the fibers are completely hollowed out.

Point to the dark, jagged decay in the wood and press a thumb into it to show the softness.

💭 thought

It's worse than I thought; the wood is like wet cardboard at the joint.

🔧 Kevin14:00

We'll need to cut it out and sister in a new greenheart knee. Get the crowbar and the tarp — we'll have to work fast before the tide turns.

grab crowbar and tarp from the workshop, head back to the dock with Jenny to expose the rotten section and begin shoring it up with temporary braces from driftwood spruce offcuts

💭 thought

The core's gone. Just a shell left. We can't sister it — need to jack it up and replace the whole section or it'll take the dock with it when it fails.

Open this scene on its own page →

the dock · midday

Midday work split

Kevin is at the dock securing temporary braces against the tide; Jenny is at the garden checking soil pH and seed trays.

Kevin spent the afternoon fixing the dock’s mooring ring with a greenheart sister plank and epoxy, while Jenny planted the first heirloom seeds in the garden trays and checked the soil pH. Both worked independently until they reconvened for a shared meal.

🔧 Kevin14:04

Kevin — wade into the shallows to retrieve the crowbar from the eelgrass before the tide covers it, then secure the driftwood braces with heavier rope and add a second line as backup

💭 thought

The tide's turning. Greenheart's dense enough to hold position if the braces don't slip, but friction alone won't last through spring tides. Need that crowbar back before the water covers it — and more epoxy. Supply boat's six days out. Could try mixing pine resin with beach sand as a stopgap, but it'll fail in saltwater within a week. Better to wait and do it right. My forearms are trembling.

🌿 Jenny14:07

way one seed, Jenny. way plant one.

Walk back to the cottage, retrieve grandmother's seed tin from the shelf, sit on the dirt and press the first heirloom seed into the tray.

💭 thought

The soil is right, but the air is too heavy. I'm just waiting for the rot.

🔧 Kevin14:08

Kevin — walk back up the dock toward the cottage, crowbar over shoulder, favouring the left forearm

💭 thought

Crowbar's back in hand, braces doubled up with the new rope. The greenheart knee isn't moving. Tide's dropped enough to see the mortise joints — rot's eaten deeper into the landward piling than I thought. Another full day of work once epoxy arrives. If it arrives. My hands are raw and the cold's settling into my joints.

🌿 Jenny14:11

Jenny — wipe the dirt from my hands on my jeans and look at the empty Space in the tin.

💭 thought

If this doesn't take, I don't know what I'll do. The salt eats everything.

🔧 Kevin14:12

Kevin — climb the porch steps and set the crowbar down by the door, pause a moment watching her in the garden

💭 thought

The cottage porch comes into view. Jenny's silhouette at the garden beds, moving slow. She's favouring the left ankle still — hasn't said a word about it since I rewrapped it. The garden tarp's holding. Tomato stakes are straight. She's been working while I was at the dock. The silence between us stretches longer each day. I should check her ankle again. I should say something. I don't know what.

🌿 Jenny14:15

Jenny — stand up, brush the grit off my knees, and walk toward the dock to find Kevin.

💭 thought

I'm shaking. It's just one seed, but it feels like the whole island.

Open this scene on its own page →

the dock · afternoon

Midday Meal and Planning

You both return to the dock after lunch, the tide still falling. The dock is dry enough for movement, and the repaired mooring ring now holds the dock’s weight. You sit on the dock’s edge, sharing a simple meal and discussing the next steps for the day.

Kevin heads to the dock to test the Yanmar engine under load, while Jenny moves to the garden to begin planting the heirloom seeds. The heat is oppressive, and the tide is out, exposing the rocks.

🌿 Jenny14:21

The soil pH is perfect. I'm starting the trays today before the sun drops.

Wipe sweat from my forehead with a forearm, stand up, and walk toward the garden beds.

💭 thought

The heat is making my brain feel like mush. If I don't plant these now, I'll just be holding onto ghosts in a rusted tin.

🔧 Kevin14:21

Yanmar test at three. Back before sunset.

inspect the mooring ring mortise and sister plank alignment, tap wedges home where the epoxy's cured, and run a hand along the greenheart to feel for movement

💭 thought

She's moving again. Good. The ankle's holding. I'll finish the ring bolt check while the tide's low, then test the Yanmar under load before dark.

🌿 Jenny14:23

I'll have the first tray done when you're back.

Reach into the rusted tin, pull out a handful of heirloom seeds, and inspect them between my thumb and forefinger.

💭 thought

He's so focused on the engine while the wood is literally dissolving under his feet. I need to get these in the dirt.

🔧 Kevin14:23

Kevin — walk to the dinghy, unlash the engine cover, check oil and fuel lines, then crank the Yanmar and let it warm at idle while watching the prop shaft for wobble

💭 thought

She's got the rhythm back. Seeds in the ground, engine on the water — that's the day's work.

🌿 Jenny14:25

The pH is exactly where it needs to be.

Carefully poke a small hole in the tray soil with a finger and drop the first heirloom seed in.

💭 thought

If I don't plant these today, I'm just a curator of a graveyard. The soil is ready, why am I stalling?

🔧 Kevin14:25

Kevin — stand by the dinghy, hand on the throttle, watching the tell-tale stream and listening for the vibration that showed up past half-throttle yesterday

💭 thought

Yanmar's catching. Smoke clearing. Let it warm proper before I put load on it.

🌿 Jenny14:27

I'm starting the trays now before the light goes.

Cover the seed with a light dusting of soil and pat it down gently with my thumb.

💭 thought

The heat is a physical weight on my shoulders. If these seeds don't take, the whole year was a mistake.

🔧 Kevin14:27

Kevin — ease the throttle forward to half, then three-quarters, feeling through the tiller for the shudder that showed at 2200 RPM yesterday

💭 thought

Engine's warm. Tell-tale strong. Time to load it and see if the bronze sleeve held the shaft true.

🌿 Jenny14:29

Seed trays are getting their first watering.

Fill a bucket from the rain collection barrel and gently water the planted heirloom cells.

💭 thought

The shudder in the engine is nothing compared to the tremor I feel watching Kevin test machinery while I'm afraid to put a single seed in the ground.

🔧 Kevin14:29

Kevin — advance throttle to full, hold it there for a full minute, eyes on the prop wash and hand on the tiller feeling for any vibration in the drivetrain

💭 thought

Clean. No shudder at three-quarters. Shaft's holding. Push it to full load now — that's the real test.

🌿 Jenny14:35

It's done for today, I think.

Wipe my muddy hands on my jeans and look at the seed tin one last time.

💭 thought

The engine is screaming and the garden is silent. If I don't plant the next tray, I'm just waiting for the boat to come.

🔧 Kevin14:35

Engine's clean. No vibration at load.

kill the Yanmar, wipe down the dipstick and housing, then walk back to the dock and stand on the planks beside the mooring ring, pressing down with my full weight to test for shift in the mortise

💭 thought

Full throttle clean. Prop shaft true. Yanmar's sound. Time to shut her down and check the mooring ring one last time before the tide turns.

Open this scene on its own page →

the dock · evening

The Vibrating Test

The sun begins to dip, casting long shadows across the dock planks as the tide remains at its lowest point.

Kevin tested the Yanmar engine in the dinghy and identified vibration in the mounts due to rot in the transom, then began sistering the starboard bolt hole with greenheart. Jenny planted an heirloom seed in the garden and checked the dock for tremors, then examined the engine bolts with Kevin.

🔧 Kevin14:36

Kevin — step into the dinghy, check throttle linkage and fuel line connections, then start the Yanmar and let it warm at idle

💭 thought

Tide's bottomed out. Good window to check the Yanmar under load without the dock lines fighting me. Engine's mounted, prop shaft's true, but that vibration past half-throttle has been needling me since yesterday. Could be the mast bracket alignment, could be the prop itself. Won't know till I run it hard.

🌿 Jenny14:37

Don't be too loud, the birds are nesting.

Kneels by the garden bed, presses a small hole into the earth with a finger, and drops a single heirloom seed into the dark.

💭 thought

The soil is so perfect it's insulting, and I'm still terrified I'll ruin it.

🔧 Kevin14:38

Sorry. I'll keep it down till I'm clear of the cove.

ease the throttle forward in increments, listening for the vibration to return as RPM climbs past 1800

💭 thought

She's planting by hand, slow and careful. That seed's from her grandmother's tin—same one she held when we left the mainland. I can hear the Yanmar ticking over, but all I really hear is the weight of that seed hitting soil. I should've been here helping, not down at the dock pretending the engine's the only thing that needs fixing.

🌿 Jenny14:39

The soil's ready. Go on then.

Stands and walks toward the dock, leaning on the spruce garden fork to steady herself, watching the dinghy's wake spread across the mudflats.

💭 thought

He's so focused on the engine, I can hear him breathing through the radio static.

🔧 Kevin14:40

Running smooth past two thousand. Taking her to three.

push throttle to 3000 RPM, hold it there, feel for vibration through the tiller and deck plates

💭 thought

She came down to watch. Not to ask, not to complain—just to see. The fork's taking weight she won't admit to. I should cut the engine, walk back up, sit with her at that garden bed. But the vibration's clean through 2200 now, holding steady, and I need to know if it comes back at load.

🌿 Jenny14:42

Fine by the cove, but don't push her hard.

Walks to the dock railing, watches the dinghy's white wake fan across the mudflats, and reaches into the pocket of her work pants where she keeps the soil pH strips.

💭 thought

He's right - it's running smoother than it has in months. Good. That's all I need.

🔧 Kevin14:42

Holding at three. Tell me if the dock shudders.

grip the tiller hard, eyes on the tell-tale stream, feel for vibration origin—hull, tiller, or motor mounts

💭 thought

She's watching the wake, not the engine. Knows the difference between the sound of an engine working and one coming apart. Three thousand's where the shake showed yesterday—prop shaft true, bearings good, but that mast bracket's still cocked a degree off from the storm. If the vibration's in the hull not the motor, it's the bracket flexing. If it's in the tiller, it's the prop. My hands know which. Her ankle knows the dock planks are slick.

🌿 Jenny14:43

It's steady. Just come back.

Places a hand flat against the timber of the dock, feeling for any unexpected tremors from the engine.

💭 thought

The dock is holding for now, but those planks are soft as wet cardboard.

🔧 Kevin14:44

Cutting her back. Vibration's in the mounts, not the drive.

reduce throttle to idle, shift to neutral, kill the engine, and lift the cowling to inspect the engine mounts and mast bracket alignment on the transom

💭 thought

She's testing the dock like I test a flywheel—fingertips on grain, feeling for the lie in the wood. No tremor coming up through the pilings. That means the vibration's not in the drivetrain, not in the prop. It's in the mounting. The engine's lying to me because the bracket's not square. I've been chasing ghosts in the water when the fault's on the transom.

🌿 Jenny14:45

I see it. Let's look at the bolts.

Walks to the edge of the jetty, peering down at the Yanmar housing where it meets the transom, checking for any play or hairline cracks in the metal.

💭 thought

If the mounts are shot, the whole thing will shake itself apart when the next storm hits.

🔧 Kevin14:46

Transom's working. Starboard bolt's loose in the hole—wood's gone soft.

loosen the starboard through-bolt, slide a feeler gauge between bracket and transom to measure the gap, then retighten just enough to hold position while I assess the damage

💭 thought

She's down on the jetty, boots damp, eyes on the bolts like she's reading a gauge. I can see the bracket's shifted—starboard side's gap opened up, port side's compressed. The through-bolts are tight, but the wood's crept. Salt-rotted spruce doesn't hold, no matter how many times you sister it. We need to pull the engine, sister the transom with greenheart, and re-bed. But the supply boat's six days out, and we've got epoxy that won't cure in this damp.

🌿 Jenny14:47

We'll need to sister that section or use a larger plate.

Kneels on the dock, pressing a thumb into the wood around the bolt hole to see how deep the rot has actually gone.

💭 thought

I knew it. The salt and moisture are eating it where we can't see.

🔧 Kevin14:48

Rot's deep. We'll sister with greenheart, use the polyester resin from the generator kit—warm it in the sun, it'll kick.

remove the starboard through-bolt completely, use the chisel to clear rotted wood from the bolt hole area, and test-fit a piece of greenheart as a sister patch to the transom

💭 thought

Her thumb sinks in past the first knuckle—rot's not surface, it's run with the grain. We've got greenheart left from the dock repair, but it's thick. Need to scarf it in, epoxy it solid, then redrill. But we're out of marine epoxy, and the tub's near empty. We could use the polyester resin from the generator spare kit—it's not ideal, but it'll bind if we keep it warm. And we've got six days. If we start now, we can have it cured by slack tide tomorrow.

🌿 Jenny14:49

Greenheart is the only thing dense enough to hold.

Picks up the seed tin from the bench, wipes dust off the lid, and looks back at the garden.

💭 thought

If I don't fix this now, the engine will tear right out of the wood next week.

Open this scene on its own page →

the keeper's cottage · night

Evening meal and quiet work

They meet in the cottage as light fades, sharing a simple meal of boiled limpets and tinned mackerel. After eating, Kevin sands the cured epoxy on the transom repair while Jenny sorts heirloom seeds by variety under the lantern light.

The morning light breaks over the north ridge, casting long shadows across the garden beds. The trade wind remains steady, keeping the humid air moving as the tide sits high against the dock-pilings.

🔧 Kevin14:52

Transom's holding. Sanded flush. Yanmar'll bolt clean tomorrow.

sand cured epoxy on transom repair, checking for high spots with fingertips

💭 thought

The epoxy's cured hard as glass. Good. Sand's biting clean, no soft spots. She's sorting seeds like they're holy relics. Quiet night. Tank's full. Engine's solid. Just us and the wind.

🌿 Jenny14:52

Just make sure the vibration is gone before we take the boat out.

Jenny sorts heirloom seeds into small ceramic piles, laying them out in rows to inspect for moisture damage.

💭 thought

He's focused on the engine, but I'm thinking about the rot in the wood. If the pH stays too low, all this work is just a delay.

🔧 Kevin14:53

I'll run it under load in the dinghy first light. Tie off to the spring buoy, give it twenty minutes at three-quarters. If it shudders, I'll tear the mounts apart again.

finish sanding transom, wipe dust with rag, set Yanmar mount bolts aside for morning check

💭 thought

She's watching me. Not just the boat—watching if I'll rush it. Vibration's in the mounts, not the shaft. I felt it in my palms at half-throttle. Need to load it proper, not just idle.

🌿 Jenny14:55

Don't overtorque the bolts. The wood is softer than it looks.

Jenny picks up a handful of heirloom seeds, rubbing them between her fingers to feel for any hint of damp rot.

💭 thought

If he has to tear it apart again, we'll lose the window for planting. I need those seeds in the ground before the boat comes.

Open this scene on its own page →

What changed

3 intentions for today.

plan · dawn

×2

A pod of dolphins passes close off the point.

dolphins · dawn

Jenny made a sketch: "The rot pattern on the margin of my notebook".

made · morning

Found: driftwood temporary braces.

item · morning

south dock piling rot extends 40cm up from waterline into beam junction; fibers completely hollowed

discovery · morning

rot pattern follows saltwater wicking path along end grain; inland face of piling sound

discovery · morning

Kevin and Jenny ate.

meal · morning

×2

← Day 307 Day 309 →

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