Day 389

Humidity and the Coming Storm

Evening brought darker clouds and rising humidity. Barometer read 987, rising slow. "If it holds past a thousand, the squall's breaking," Kevin said. Jenny hoped he was right. She managed her ankle poultice; Kevin urged her to change it warm. "Storm's settling in," he said. "Boat's five days out but this weather'll hold her up. We batten down proper now — dinghy, radio, cottage — while there's still light." Jenny told him to check the bow-cleat; tide came higher than forecast. "On it," he said. "Tin first." She warned the fender rubbed the wood — give slack or move it before it snaps. He shifted the fender. Pressure dropped faster than yesterday.

Dawn brought thick humidity and rain drumming the glass. Jenny spread damp tomato and pepper seeds on paper towels at the table while Kevin checked the Yanmar fuel lines for leaks by the window. The wet season clouds hung low. Kevin went to the spring intake to clear the clogged filter but failed — silt like flour, rocks slippery — leaving the flow obstructed. Jenny stayed at the cottage, trying to dry heirloom seeds near the stove as humidity rose and air pressure held.

Midday rain continued steady on the tin roof. The water tank gained about twenty-five litres, reaching maximum capacity. Inside, air smelled of damp wood and drying sea beets. Kevin spent the afternoon diagnosing the dinghy's vibration, noting it persisted only above half-throttle. Diagnosis progressed: forty percent, fifty, sixty, seventy, eighty. He found a float needle, soaked it in vinegar four hours. Jenny dried seeds, managed seedling de-salting, and sketched sea beet morphology twice in her notebook.

Scenes

the keeper's cottage · dawn

Humidity and Seed Prep

Jenny sits at the table spreading damp tomato and pepper seeds on paper towels. Kevin stands by the window, checking the Yanmar fuel lines for leaks while the rain begins to drum the glass.

The morning air is heavy with humidity as the wet season clouds hang low. Jenny focuses on drying the heirloom seeds on the table while Kevin inspects the dinghy's persistent vibration at high speeds.

🌿 Jenny21:55

The intake is clear, Kevin. I did it myself.

Jenny flattens a damp paper towel with her palm to press out moisture from the tomato seeds.

💭 thought

If the humidity doesn't drop, these seeds will mold before the boat even arrives. He's obsessed with the engine again.

🔧 Kevin21:55

Didn't say it wasn't.

wipe hands on rag, set wrench down, walk to table and pull out chair opposite her

💭 thought

She's right — she knows the engine as well as I do now. The vibration's not fuel delivery; it's the float needle hanging up in the seat. Vinegar soak and brake cleaner on the jets at dawn will tell.

🌿 Jenny21:57

The air is too heavy. They aren't drying properly here.

Jenny moves the tray of heirloom seeds slightly away from his reach, shielding them with her forearm.

💭 thought

He's hovering. I can feel the heat coming off him as he sits close to the seeds.

🔧 Kevin21:57

Generator's got the carb diaphragm sorted. Could run it a few hours, dry the air some.

lean back in chair, watch her hands on the seeds

💭 thought

She's shielding them from me. Or shielding them from the damp. Both true. The air's thick enough to drink.

🌿 Jenny21:59

We need the fuel for the radio if the wind picks up on the north ridge.

Jenny picks up a single pepper seed, inspecting it between her thumb and forefinger for signs of rot.

💭 thought

If he runs the generator now, we'll waste the fuel before the storm actually hits.

🔧 Kevin21:59

Aye.

stand, pull the chair back quietly, go to the radio shelf and check the battery gauge

💭 thought

She's right. Generator's a luxury we can't afford with the supply boat five days out and the radio our only lifeline. The seeds will dry or they won't — same as everything else here.

🌿 Jenny22:02

Check the forecast. The boat is still five days out.

Jenny carefully places the seed back on the paper towel, her fingers stiff from the infection.

💭 thought

At least he's not arguing for once. My ankle is throbbing with every movement.

🔧 Kevin22:02

Right.

sit at radio, power on, let tubes warm, scan 4125, 6215, 8291 for coastguard broadcast

💭 thought

She wants the forecast. I want Tom's frequency. Both need the radio. Barometer's holding at 987 — steady's better than falling.

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the keeper's cottage · morning

Midday heat

Kevin and Jenny meet at the cottage as the tide begins to turn. The overcast clouds thicken, and the temperature rises.

Kevin went to the spring intake to clear the clogged filter but failed due to the heavy silt and slippery rocks, leaving the water flow obstructed. Jenny remained at the cottage, attempting to dry the heirloom seeds near the stove as the humidity rose and the air pressure held.

🔧 Kevin22:03

Back from the beds?

walk onto the porch and set the vinegar jar on the radio shelf, then check the barometer again

💭 thought

Tide's turning. She's back from the garden. Clouds dropping lower — barometer was 986 and steady, but that was an hour ago. If it drops fast we'll have the supply boat pushing hard to make the window. Need the dinghy ready. Vibration's still there above half throttle. Float needle soaking in vinegar on the bench. Jets next. Then test under load.

🌿 Jenny22:03

Just finished the morphology sketches. The intake is clogged anyway.

Jenny wipes sweat from her brow with her forearm and gestures toward the drying seeds on the kitchen table.

💭 thought

The humidity is going to ruin the seeds if I don't get them off the table.

🔧 Kevin22:04

I'll clear it after the carb. Float needle's in vinegar — four hours. Jets at dawn if it needs it.

step inside, pull the brake cleaner from the shelf, and set it beside the vinegar jar

💭 thought

Intake clogged. Spring feed's gravity — if the screen's fouled the tank stops filling. 394 litres holds us, but not forever. She did the sketches. Hands steady enough for that. Ankle's holding.

🌿 Jenny22:05

Don't forget the seeds. The air is getting too heavy today.

Jenny picks up the paper with the tomato seeds and moves it closer to the warmth of the wood stove.

💭 thought

If he doesn't get that needle right, I'm stuck here for another month.

🔧 Kevin22:06

Tarp's on the porch. I'll rig it over the table once the intake's clear.

grab the coil of light line from the hook by the door and head out toward the spring line

💭 thought

Air heavy — humidity spiking. Seeds won't dry if the dew point climbs. Stove'll help but we'll need the tarp over the table if the rain comes sideways. She's thinking ahead. Good.

🌿 Jenny22:07

I'll check the moisture levels in the tin while you're working.

Jenny sits at the kitchen table and carefully opens the heirloom seed tin, feeling the air inside for dampness.

💭 thought

At least he's thinking about the tarp. My ankle is already throbbing.

🔧 Kevin22:08

Aye.

walk up the slope toward the spring intake, line coiled over shoulder

💭 thought

Tin's been drying a week. If she says it's good, it's good. Her nose for damp is better than mine. Spring intake's up the slope — twenty minutes there and back if the screen's just fouled. Longer if the hose has split. Vinegar soak has two hours left. Jets after. Then the thimble splice on the stern line before dark.

🌿 Jenny22:09

I need to spread these out even more.

Jenny takes a handful of the tomato seeds and spreads them carefully across a fresh sheet of paper on the table.

💭 thought

The seeds are still too damp. If they mold, grandmother's whole legacy is gone.

🔧 Kevin22:11

Kevin — follow the black poly pipe up the slope from the tank, stepping over the mossy rocks, until the intake screen comes into view in the shallow pool

💭 thought

She's spreading them thin. Right call — clumps trap moisture. The vinegar jar on the shelf catches the light. Two hours. Spring intake first.

🌿 Jenny22:11

Watch for the sharp rocks there.

Jenny takes a small knife and begins to carefully scrape a tiny bit of grit off one of the seeds.

💭 thought

The mesh is going to be choked with silt. If the pressure drops, the tank will run dry before the boat comes.

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the keeper's cottage · midday

The Heavy Afternoon Heat

Kevin is at the cottage porch cleaning his gear, while Jenny is at the kitchen table.

The rain continues its steady rhythm, drumming against the cottage roof as the water tank reaches its maximum capacity. Inside, the air is humid, smelling of damp wood and the salty scent of the drying sea deets.

🔧 Kevin22:14

Intake's still blocked. Silt's like flour. Mesh won't catch it.

wipe down the metal file and set it on the porch rail, then pull off wet boots and leave them on the mat

💭 thought

Mud caked on my boots and forearms from the spring intake. Filter's still choked — silt too fine for the mesh, rocks too slick to work. Barometer hasn't budged at 986. She's at the table with the seeds. Haven't asked how the ankle's holding. Don't need to. She'd tell me if it mattered.

🌿 Jenny22:15

I'll do it after the rain slows. The seeds are still too damp anyway.

Jenny moves the paper of heirloom seeds closer to the warmth of the wood stove, her fingers tracing the edge of a dry seed.

💭 thought

If he can't clear the intake, the tank will drop before the boat comes, and I'll be drinking nothing but rot.

🔧 Kevin22:16

Aye. No rush.

hang the damp oilskin on the porch hook and walk to the kitchen to check the water tank level

💭 thought

She's right about the seeds. Humidity's too high to dry anything proper. Ankle's holding weight if she's moving round the table. Didn't limp that I saw.

🌿 Jenny22:17

way make sure the file stays dry.

Jenny picks up her pencil and opens the notebook, focusing on the intricate veins of the sea beet leaf she sketched yesterday.

💭 thought

"No rush" is for people who aren't watching the water line drop by the inch.

🔧 Kevin22:18

It's under the eave.

lift the tank lid and dip the measuring stick, reading the level

💭 thought

File's on the porch rail under the overhang. Dry enough. She's drawing again — sea beet veins. Good. Means the hand's steady.

🌿 Jenny22:19

I'll check the mesh once the wind lets up.

Jenny opens the seed tin, checking the moisture levels of the grandmother's seeds with a cautious thumb.

💭 thought

The tank is full now, but if the intake stays choked, it's just stagnant water.

🔧 Kevin22:20

Tank's full.

replace the tank lid and set the measuring stick aside, then pull out a chair at the table and sit with the vinegar jar, checking the float needle soak time

💭 thought

Tank's full. 400 litres. Rain's steady. She's checking the grandmother's tin — tomato, pepper. Viable last I saw. Wind's nor'west, holding. Mesh can wait.

🌿 Jenny22:21

I'll get to the filter when the rain turns.

Jenny moves the paper of heirloom seeds closer to the stove, watching the heat catch the dampness.

💭 thought

The water is high for now, but the silt in the intake is a slow disaster waiting to happen.

🔧 Kevin22:22

Needle's had four hours. Gonna blow the jets at dawn.

unscrew the jar lid, pull the float needle out with fingers, and set it on a clean rag to inspect the splines

💭 thought

Needle's been in vinegar near four hours. Splines looked clean when I dropped it in, but wear's on the sides, not the tip. Brass stock's in the workshop if this doesn't clear it. She keeps saying she'll get to the filter. Rain's not turning soon. Barometer's steady.

🌿 Jenny22:23

way don't force it.

Jenny picks up a tomato seed, turning it over between thumb and forefinger.

💭 thought

He's always looking at the mechanics while the world is rotting around us.

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the keeper's cottage · afternoon

Waiting for the Lull

The rain shows no signs of stopping, and the tide remains high against the dock pilings.

Kevin spent the afternoon investigating the dinghy's vibration, noting it persists only above half-throttle, while Jenny focused on drying the heirloom seeds and managing the seedling de-salting as the humid wet season air pressed in.

🔧 Kevin22:24

Kevin — walk to the porch and check the barometer reading

💭 thought

Tank's full. Good. Means the intake's still moving water even with the mesh clogged. But the silt's only going to get worse if this rain holds. Need to clear it proper when the tide drops, or the pump'll suck mud.

🌿 Jenny22:27

It's not going away.

move the tin of heirloom seeds closer to the warmth of the wood stove.

💭 thought

The pressure is holding, but the humidity is a thief. If those seeds don't dry now, they'll rot.

🔧 Kevin22:27

Barometer's 987. Rising slow. If it holds past a thousand, the squall's breaking.

pour two mugs of tea from the pot on the stove and set one on the table near the seed tin

💭 thought

She's talking about the rain. Or the damp. Or both. Seeds won't dry proper in this humidity — not with the stove just taking the chill off. Tin near the heat helps, but it's a slow fight.

🌿 Jenny22:29

I hope you're right.

take a sip of the tea and return to the sketch of the sea beet morphology.

💭 thought

A thousand is a long way off when the air is this heavy and my ankle is screaming.

🔧 Kevin22:29

Kevin — sit at the table with my mug, watching the steam rise, and glance at the radio on the shelf

💭 thought

She's not asking. Just stating. The sketchbook's got days of work in it — salt glands, leaf cross-sections, transect counts. She's thorough. More than I am with most things.

🌿 Jenny22:31

The radio isn't going anywhere.

trace the edge of the salt glands in the drawing with a sharp pencil.

💭 thought

He's thinking about the supply boat again. Always the escape route while I'm worried about the soil.

🔧 Kevin22:32

Aye.

drink tea and wait, fingers tapping slow on the mug

💭 thought

She knows why I'm looking. 0200 isn't far off. Tom's frequency. The squall's eating signal but the barometer's rising — skip might clear. She's right. The radio isn't going anywhere. Neither am I.

🌿 Jenny22:33

I need to check the seeds one more time.

stand up slowly, wincing as my ankle shifts, and walk toward the tin on the table.

💭 thought

The silence is louder than the rain today. I need to check the moisture in that tin again.

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the keeper's cottage · evening

The evening humidity rises

Kevin and Jenny meet in the kitchen as the clouds overhead darken further. The smell of rain and salt fills the air.

The humidity is rising inside the cottage as the air pressure drops, signaling an approaching storm. Kevin focuses on the heirloom seeds drying on paper to prevent rot, while Jenny manages her ankle poultice and keeps an eye on the overcast sky.

🔧 Kevin22:33

Kettle's hot. Mug on the shelf.

Slide the cast iron pot off the stove's hottest ring, set it on the trivet. Pull a clean mug down, wipe the rim with my thumb.

💭 thought

Rain's coming down harder. She's in the doorway. Don't ask if she's alright — she'll say yes. Just move the pot handle so she doesn't knock it.

🌿 Jenny22:35

The intake is still choked. I'll get to it when the light holds.

Pour water into the mug, steam rising toward the drying seeds on the table.

💭 thought

He's always moving, even when the world is falling apart and the humidity chokes the lungs.

🔧 Kevin22:35

Filter mesh is in the tin by the door. Spare's in the crate if that one's shot.

Lean back against the counter, arms folded. Watch steam curl against the seed paper. Don't look at her ankle.

💭 thought

She went to the spring in this. Hands raw, boots full. Didn't say. Won't say.

🌿 Jenny22:37

I know where the spare is.

Take a sip of the hot water, the warmth seeping through the ceramic into my palms.

💭 thought

He thinks a new mesh solves the problem, but the silt is deep in the whole system.

🔧 Kevin22:37

Right. Sorry.

Unfold arms. Pick up the notebook from the table — the one with sea beet sketches. Flip it closed. Set it aside to make room for her hands.

💭 thought

She knows. She always knows. I'm the one who forgets she doesn't need me to tell her.

🌿 Jenny22:39

It's fine. Just watch the rain.

Reach for a handful of the heirloom seeds, checking the dampness of the paper with my fingers.

💭 thought

He's trying to be helpful, but the silence between us is getting heavy again.

🔧 Kevin22:39

Mm.

Turn to the window. Rest forearms on the sill. Watch the first heavy drops hit the porch boards, darkening the grain. Count the seconds between lightning and thunder.

💭 thought

Her fingers know the feel of viable seed. Mine only know the feel of metal. Let her have the quiet.

🌿 Jenny22:41

The pressure is dropping fast.

Spread the seeds out wider on the paper, ensuring they aren't overlapping.

💭 thought

If the rain starts now, these seeds will rot before the boat even gets here.

🔧 Kevin22:41

Barometer's stuck. Has been since Tuesday.

Reach past her for the pencil on the table. Tap the notebook cover. Don't write. Just hold it.

💭 thought

She's reading the sky better than the barometer. 987 and steady my arse — that needle's been lazy all week.

🌿 Jenny22:43

I can see.

Rub the side of my ankle, the throbbing heat of the infection.

💭 thought

I don't need a needle to tell me the air is turning to water.

🔧 Kevin22:43

You need the poultice changed.

Set the pencil down. Turn from the window. Don't reach for her ankle — she'll pull away. Just stand there, useless, watching her fingers work the seeds.

💭 thought

She's hurting and she's still sorting my seeds. The infection's tracking — I saw the red line past the brace yesterday. She won't let me look. Won't let me change the dressing. Pride or shame or both. I'd cut my own hand off before I'd ask for help. Can't blame her for the same sickness.

🌿 Jenny22:45

I'll do it when these are dry.

Pick a single seed from the paper, inspecting it for any sign of mold.

💭 thought

If I stop moving, the infection will take the whole leg by morning.

🔧 Kevin22:45

The poultice draws better warm. Kettle's still hot.

Move to the stove before she can argue. Fill the small bowl from the kettle. Toss in a clean cloth. Let it steep. Set it on the table between us — close enough to use, far enough she doesn't have to admit she needs it.

💭 thought

The seeds will take hours. The infection won't wait. She's bargaining with time like she always does — putting the living thing first, letting herself rot. I've watched her do it for eleven months. I've done it myself. Forty minutes in black water teaches you: the cold doesn't care about your priorities.

🌿 Jenny22:47

It's fine.

Look at the bowl, then back at the seeds, my hand trembling slightly.

💭 thought

He thinks a warm cloth will fix what's rotting under the skin.

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the keeper's cottage · night

The Storm Breaks

The first heavy drops of rain hit the tin roof, drowning out the sound of the wind. You realize the supply boat is still five days away and the weather is turning violent.

The air is heavy and still as the pressure continues to drop, signaling the approaching storm. Kevin focuses on the dinghy's persistent vibration while Jenny manages the drying of the heirloom seeds in the humid heat.

🔧 Kevin22:47

Storm's settling in. Boat's five days out but this weather'll hold her up. We batten down proper now — dinghy, radio, cottage — while there's still light.

Walk to the porch and check the dinghy mooring lines at the dock, testing tension on both stern springs.

💭 thought

Five days out and the sky's already turning black. If the boat can't make the crossing in this, we're looking at ten, maybe twelve days on stores. Diesel's the tight one — generator's at twelve litres and the Yanmar burns what's left. Need to secure the dinghy springs proper, check the cottage shutters, and get the radio aerial braced before the real wind hits. Jenny's ankle won't hold a slip on wet stone.

🌿 Jenny22:49

Check the bow-cleat again; the tide is coming in higher than the forecast said.

Jenny limps to the table, grabs the heirloom seed tin, and moves it to the highest shelf away from the kitchen's steam.

💭 thought

If the wind takes the wayhy, the seeds are lost and I'm stuck here with a rotting ankle.

🔧 Kevin22:49

Aye. Tin first.

Lift the heirloom seed tin from the table and carry it to the highest shelf, setting it clear of the stove steam; then walk out onto the porch and down to the dock to inspect the bow cleat and forward spring line.

💭 thought

She's right — spring tide on top of this surge'll lift the bow eye clear if the cleat's not solid. Last thing we need is the dinghy pivoting on her stern springs and stoveing in the dock. Move the seed tin first, then check the cleat.

🌿 Jenny22:51

The tide is rising too fast for the current spring; check the rub on the fender.

Jenny sits on the kitchen chair, wrapping a fresh cloth around her throbbing ankle and sketching the morphology of a sea beet leaf in her notebook.

💭 thought

He doesn't see the tension on that line; it'll pull the whole hull into the rocks.

🔧 Kevin22:53

On it.

Walk down the dock to the dinghy, crouch at the bow, and run a hand along the forward spring where it passes the fender and dock edge, checking for fresh chafe or heat in the fibres.

💭 thought

Forward spring's new half-inch three-strand but the fender's an old tyre — seen it chafing on the dock edge at mid-tide. If the surge lifts her higher, the bow eye rides up onto raw timber. Need to check the rub point and re-lead the line if it's sawing.

🌿 Jenny22:55

It's rubbing against the wood—give it some more slack or move the fender before it snaps.

way stops own, looks through the window at the dark water, and sighs, rubbing the swollen skin of her ankle.

💭 thought

If that line frays, the dinghy is gone before the boat even hits the horizon.

🔧 Kevin22:55

Shifting the fender now.

Uncleat the forward spring at the bow, slide the tyre fender forward along the gunwale to clear the dock edge, re-lead the line with a clean fair lead, and cleat it off with a proper hitch.

💭 thought

Line's sawing on the dock corner — three-strand won't take that long under load. Ease the bow eye, shift the tyre fender forward six inches, take up the slack clean. Quick job but cold hands make knots slow.

🌿 Jenny22:57

Keep an eye on the way; the pressure is dropping faster than yesterday.

Jenny picks up her pencil and continues shading the veins of the sea much leaf in the notebook.

💭 thought

At least he's listening for once, but the wind is already picking up.

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What changed

3 intentions for today.

plan · dawn

×2

A pod of dolphins passes close off the point.

dolphins · dawn

dinghy vibration diagnosis: 40%.

project · dawn

Found: float needle.

item · morning

The rain tank gained about 25 litres.

weather · morning

Kevin and Jenny ate.

meal · morning

dinghy vibration diagnosis: 50%.

project · midday

Jenny made a sketch: "The sea beet morphology".

made · afternoon

dinghy vibration diagnosis: 60%.

project · afternoon

dinghy vibration diagnosis: 70%.

project · evening

Found: poultice.

item · evening

Kevin and Jenny ate.

meal · evening

Jenny made a sketch: "Morphology of a sea beet leaf in her notebook".

made · night

Something goes wrong in the middle of the work — a slip, a cut, a wrenched ankle.

injury · night

dinghy vibration diagnosis: 80%.

project · night

← Day 388 Day 390 →

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