Day 397

The Dock Holds, The Sky Falls

Dawn broke flat and grey. Jenny sat at the table checking heirloom seed packets drying on paper, her hand steady despite the throbbing ankle. Kevin monitored the barometer — 982 and falling — watching clouds thicken over the horizon. "It's going to turn," she said. "Aye. Wind'll shift northeast by noon if the glass doesn't lie."

He walked the dock at slack tide, testing the first plank before committing weight, crowbar ready for the mooring ring. Jenny watched from the porch, sketching sea-beet cellular structure in her notebook. The tide receded, exposing slick pilings and a deep hollow in the rock shelf beneath the north piling. Kevin probed the scour with the crowbar, wedging stones to test stability. "Shim's holding on the north piling. But the sister knee — there's daylight under the heel. Void runs back two, maybe three feet."

Jenny documented the new crevice before water swallowed it. "It looks too deep, Kevin. The current is taking the sand away." Rain began steady as the tide turned, rising fast. Kevin packed the scour with stones, drove the greenheart shim under the piling. "Shim's set. Void's packed. We'll know in ten minutes if it holds."

The mooring ring held quiet. "Ring's wedged vertical-grain oak. Held three tides. But if that piling drops..." Jenny watched the water climb. "Just don't let it slip. I can't rebuild the whole thing right now."

By evening, barometer read 977. West wind backing southwest. Heavy rain lashed the cottage. Kevin checked the Yanmar prop shaft alignment during low tide while Jenny managed her ankle's infection inside. The rain tank gained twenty-five litres. They ate. Storm prep reached ninety percent. A jellyfish bloom drifted pale and slow in the bay. Dolphins passed off the point.

Scenes

the keeper's cottage · dawn

The Thickening Sky

Jenny sits at the table checking the heirloom seed packets as they dry on paper. Kevin monitors the barometer, watching the flat grey sky darken with heavy clouds through the window.

Kevin steps onto the first dock plank slowly, testing it before committing weight, moving toward the mooring ring with the crowbar ready. Jenny stops sketching, listening for the sound of the wood against the waves.

🔧 Kevin05:23

Kevin — check the barometer reading again, then turn to the window to assess the cloud cover.

💭 thought

Pressure's holding at 983 but that sky's got weight to it. She's sorting seeds like she's planning next year. I'm still here watching gauges instead of saying what matters.

🌿 Jenny05:25

It's going to turn.

Jenny reaches out to touch the edge of the seed tin, her fingers lingering on the cold metal.

💭 thought

The pressure is dropping again. If it rains before the boat comes, the garden will just be a bowl of mud.

🔧 Kevin05:25

Aye. Wind'll shift northeast by noon if the glass doesn't lie.

Set the coffee pot on the stove to heat, keeping an eye on the barometer needle.

💭 thought

She feels it in her bones same as me. The tin's cold — night didn't warm it. She's deciding what's worth saving.

🌿 Jenny05:27

way we hope the boat stays out.

Jenny shifts her weight, wincing as the movement ripples through her ankle, and pulls her notebook closer to the light.

💭 thought

The glass never lies, but the island does. If the wind shifts, the swell will be too high for the dinghy.

🔧 Kevin05:27

I'll walk the dock at slack tide. See if the ring's shifted under last night's swell.

Stand from the table, grab the crowbar from the porch hook, and head toward the dock, testing my weight on the sore ankle as I go.

💭 thought

Her ankle's flaring again — she won't say it. Hoping the boat stays out means she's bracing for it not coming. I should check the mooring ring before the tide turns.

🌿 Jenny05:29

watch for the splintered wood.

Jenny picks up her pencil and begins to sketch the cellular structure of a sea-beet leaf, her hand steady despite the pain.

💭 thought

If that ring is loose, the whole way is compromised when the next storm hits.

🔧 Kevin05:31

Noted. Back before the tide drops.

Walk down the path to the dock, crowbar in hand, scanning the planks for fresh splintering as I approach the mooring ring.

💭 thought

She's seen the dock timbers closer than I have — noticed the splintering where I only checked the ring. Her hand's steady on the pencil. Mine would shake.

🌿 Jenny05:32

Be careful with the weight.

Jenny presses the pencil down too hard, focusing on the intricate veins of the leaf to ignore the throb in her ankle.

💭 thought

way's right to be cautious. If that ring gives way, there's no way to reach the mainland.

🔧 Kevin05:32

Kevin — step onto the first dock plank slowly, testing it before committing weight, and move toward the mooring ring with the crowbar ready.

💭 thought

She's telling me to be careful with the weight. The dock, the ring, myself. The pencil tears the paper slightly — she felt that too.

🌿 Jenny05:33

Watch the pilings.

Jenny stops sketching, listening for the sound of the wood against the waves.

💭 thought

The wood sounds hollow under him. If the rot is deep, the way out is lost to the sea.

Open this scene on its own page →

the dock · morning

Morning tide check

The tide is high, lapping against the pilings. The sky remains flat with the cloud cover thickening over the horizon.

The tide is receding, exposing the slick, algae-covered pilings of the dock. Kevin tests the repaired mooring ring by heaving his weight against the crowbar, ensuring the new oak wedges are seated deep while Jenny watches from the cottage porch, favoring her throbbing ankle as she waits for the water level to drop further.

🌿 Jenny05:35

The tide is too high for the dock planks anyway.

Jenny closes her notebook and stands slowly, wincing as the weight shifts off her left ankle.

💭 thought

If the boat doesn't come in seven days, I'll be out of antibiotics and this leg will go.

🔧 Kevin05:35

Ring mortise first. Planks wait for low.

test the mooring ring for movement by heaving on it with the crowbar, watching the mortise for shift

💭 thought

She's right. High tide's the wrong window for the planks. The ring mortise is the job here — slack water's gone, but the ring's still shifting under load. Oak wedges held last cycle, but the steel doubler plate and through-bolts are the real fix. Need to check bolt torque while the ring's unloaded between surges.

🌿 Jenny05:37

Just make sure the wedge is deep enough when the swell hits it.

Jenny leans against the wall of the cottage, watching him work the wood while she rubs her throbbing ankle.

💭 thought

He's right about the tide, but the ring is what holds the whole world.

🔧 Kevin05:37

Bolts are torqued. Wedges are vertical grain, seated. Only thing moves now is the tide.

grip the ring with both hands and throw weight against it, testing for any play in the mortise

💭 thought

She's watched me do this enough times to know the rhythm. The wedges are driven, the doubler plate's bolted. What's left is verifying the bolts didn't back off under last night's swell. Torque wrench is in the kit bag on the cottage porch.

🌿 Jenny05:39

It'll hold enough for the boat.

Jenny nods, then shifts her weight to hide a wince of sharp pain in her ankle.

💭 thought

It looks solid for now, but the salt is always eating at the wood.

🔧 Kevin05:39

Go sit. I'll finish the ring check and call the 1200.

turn toward the cottage porch, nodding at the radio kit bag by the door

💭 thought

She's hiding it. The wince, the weight shift — ankle's worse than she's saying. Antibiotics should've kicked harder by now. Red streaks stopped at the knee, but the heat's still there. She needs the leg up, not standing watch on a dock.

🌿 Jenny05:41

Tell them to check the fuel levels before leaving.

Jenny limps toward the porch, keeping one hand on the doorframe to take her weight.

💭 thought

If he calls and they say they're delayed, I'll lose my mind.

🔧 Kevin05:41

Fuel, water, medical. Standard list.

walk back to the cottage porch, pick up the shortwave handset from the radio kit bag, and key the mic for the 1200 check-in

💭 thought

Fuel levels. Right. Four litres diesel left in the drum, maybe five if the gauge isn't lying. The supply boat skippers never check — they just pump and go. If they short us, we run the generator on fumes and the Yanmar on prayer. Need to put it in the log for the 1200 call.

🌿 Jenny05:43

Don't forget to Mention the storm prep.

Jenny sits on the top step of the porch, stretching her leg out and watching the grey water Rise.

💭 thought

I hope they have the antibiotics. This ankle is starting to feel heavy.

🔧 Kevin05:43

Sorrel Island, 1200 check-in. Barometer 982 falling, northeast 12. Dock ring secured, generator lashed, ditch bag ready. Request supply boat ETA and fuel confirmation. Over.

hold the handset to my ear, waiting through the static for any reply

💭 thought

Storm prep. Generator lashings verified, mast braced, dinghy double-springed, ditch bag clipped. The list is done. What isn't done is the supply boat ETA — seven days out if they keep schedule, which they haven't in months. Barometer's 982 and falling. Northeast 12 steady. That's not a storm yet, but the trend's wrong.

Open this scene on its own page →

the dock · midday

Midday at the low tide

The tide continues to pull out, revealing more of the rocky floor around the dock as the pair prepares.

The tide recedes significantly, exposing a deep hollow in the rock shelf beneath the north piling. Kevin uses the crowbar to probe the depth of the scour while wedging stones to test stability. Jenny monitors the receding waterline and notices a new crevice in the shelf.

🔧 Kevin05:44

Water's down another foot. Give it twenty minutes, we'll have the toe of the north piling exposed. Want eyes on that shim while I'm under there.

walk to the end of the dock and lean over the gunwale, studying the waterline on the pilings, the greenheart sister plank, and the scoured hollow beneath it

💭 thought

Tide's dropping fast. Good — gives us a proper look at the pilings and the sister plank before the supply boat's due. Need to check that greenheart knee isn't floating on void.

🌿 Jenny05:45

Don't lean too hard yet. The wood is still saturated from the rain.

Jenny stands slowly from the chair, grips the porch railing for balance, and limps toward the edge of the dock to get a better look.

💭 thought

If that shim shifts when the boat hits, the whole jetty goes down, and I can't fix that with this ankle.

🔧 Kevin05:46

Ankle first. Dock second. Sit back.

step back from the edge and hold out a hand steadying her elbow, guiding her toward the porch chair

💭 thought

She's right — planks are still spongy. But she shouldn't be walking on that ankle, not on a moving dock.

🌿 Jenny05:47

I can see the gap from here. I'm fine.

Jenny pulls her arm away slightly, sits into the chair with a sharp intake of breath, and stares at the receding water.

💭 thought

I'm not a patient to be managed, I'm the one documenting this island.

🔧 Kevin05:48

Twenty minutes. I'll check the piling toe and the sister knee. You watch the waterline, tell me if it starts coming back fast.

crouch at the dock edge, crowbar in hand, waiting for the tide to drop the last half metre to expose the north piling toe and the greenheart knee's full length

💭 thought

Stubborn. Both of us. But she's breathing hard and the ankle's hot to touch through the wrap. Infection's not gone, just held.

🌿 Jenny05:49

I'm watching. The tide is dropping slow, steady for now.

Jenny leans forward, elbows on her knees, tracking the dark line where the water retreats from the salt-crusted wood.

💭 thought

If the rot is as deep as it looks, the whole structure won't hold the supply boat.

🔧 Kevin05:51

Shim's holding on the north piling. But the sister knee — there's daylight under the heel. Void runs back two, maybe three feet.

wait another few minutes, eyes on the water, then lie flat on the dock planks and reach the crowbar under the sister plank to probe the depth of the scour hole

💭 thought

Good. She's still, watching. That's the most rest she's had in days. Tide's cooperating — slack low in about ten minutes by the look of it. North piling toe's showing now, the greenheart shim I drove at last low tide still seated. But the scour hole under the sister plank... that's the worry. Greenheart's hard as iron but it's floating on void. Next big swell will hammer it.

🌿 Jenny05:51

Be careful. If you shift the weight more, the wedges might pop out.

Jenny grips the edge of the chair, her knuckles white, watching the crowbar disappear into the dark shadow under the jetty.

💭 thought

Three feet? If the boat comes in now, the whole way will snap like a dry branch.

🔧 Kevin05:52

Wedges are set. Ring's not moving. I'm just measuring the hole.

probe carefully with the crowbar tip, feeling for the bottom of the scour beneath the sister plank's heel, measuring depth against the bar's markings

💭 thought

She knows the dock better than she lets on. Wedges are oak, vertical grain, driven tight — they won't pop unless the whole ring shifts. But the sister knee's only held by three through-bolts and gravity. If the scour's deep, the next storm lifts the heel and snaps bolts.

🌿 Jenny05:53

It looks too deep, Kevin. The current is taking the sand away.

Jenny shifts her weight, the notebook forgotten on her lap, watching the crowbar vibrate in the mud.

💭 thought

If it's three feet, the rot isn't just surface. The island is eating it.

Open this scene on its own page →

the dock · afternoon

The tide begins to turn

The rain continues steady as the first ripples begin to creep back over the exposed shelf and the hollow.

The tide is rising rapidly, submerging the lower planks of the dock. Kevin has packed the scour hole with stones and wedged the greenheart shim under the north piling to stabilize the mooring ring. Jenny is documenting the new rock crevice in her notebook before the water swallows the detail.

🔧 Kevin05:54

Kevin — drive the greenheart offcuts and stone into the scour hole with the crowbar, packing it tight while the water's still low enough to work. Then wedge the tapered greenheart shim under the piling toe to hold it level when the tide rises.

💭 thought

Water's coming back faster than I expected. The hollow under the north piling is deeper than it looked — scour's eaten back near a metre under the footing. If the piling settles into that void under load, the whole dock frame twists. Need to fill it before the tide seats the piling hard.

🌿 Jenny05:55

Careful with that shim, the tide is coming back faster than the forecast.

Sketch the new crevice in the rock in the notebook before the water covers it.

💭 thought

If that shim doesn't hold, the whole jetty will shear into the sea before the boat arrives.

🔧 Kevin05:56

Shim's set. Void's packed. We'll know in ten minutes if it holds.

Step back onto the dock planks, watching the water rise around the north piling, crowbar ready in case the structure shifts.

💭 thought

She's right — forecast said another hour to slack. Tide doesn't read forecasts. Shim's driven deep, kerfed face gripping the rock. Greenheart offcuts packed the void solid. Now the water takes the weight and either the piling sits or it doesn't.

🌿 Jenny05:57

Keep an eye on the mooring ring. If it groans, we're losing the dinghy.

Trace the outline of the crevice with a pencil before the water swallows the detail.

💭 thought

He's too confident. The wood is brittle, and the salt has eaten the heart.

🔧 Kevin05:58

Ring's wedged vertical-grain oak. Held three tides. But if that piling drops...

Grip the crowbar, eyes on the mooring ring mortise where water churns around the timber, waiting for the first telltale groan or shift.

💭 thought

Mooring ring's the weak link now. Oak wedges held last cycle but greenheart's denser, doesn't compress. If the piling settles even a few millimetres the mortise gap changes and the ring works loose. Dinghy's the only way off this rock.

🌿 Jenny05:59

Just don't let it slip. I can't rebuild the whole thing right now.

Watch the water line at the edge of the shim, waiting for the tide to test the pressure.

💭 thought

If the dock goes, I'm stranded with no way to reach the boat or the mainland.

🔧 Kevin06:01

It'll hold. Wedges are driven home. Ring's not moving.

Keep watching the mortise as water rises, one hand on the crowbar, the other ready to drive a fresh wedge if the ring so much as shudders.

💭 thought

She's not asking. She's stating what we both know — her ankle, my back, the materials we don't have. The ring holds or we lose the dinghy. Simple as that.

🌿 Jenny06:01

I hope so. The tide is coming in fast today.

Mark the edge of the crevice in the notebook before it's submerged.

💭 thought

He's always so sure until the wood actually rots from the inside.

🔧 Kevin06:02

Ring's quiet. Piling's seated. We're good for now.

Exhale slow, ease the crowbar down against the dock planking, and glance at the barometer on the cottage porch — 979 and falling.

💭 thought

Water's licking the top of the shim now. Piling's seated. No groan from the ring. No shift in the mortise. The repair's holding — for this tide at least.

🌿 Jenny06:03

The barometer isn't lying. We need to get the seed tin inside before the wind picks up.

Trace the line of the crevice in the notebook one last time before the water takes it.

💭 thought

The pressure is dropping. The storm is coming before the boat does.

Open this scene on its own page →

the old shrine · evening

The Rising Tide

The water continues to climb the dock, testing the integrity of the new wedges and the stability of the shim.

No narrator was available, so nothing about this stretch was recorded.

🔧 Kevin06:04

Kevin — lean on the crowbar, eyes fixed on the mooring ring mortise where the greenheart shim sits under the north piling, watching for any movement as the tide surges against the dock.

💭 thought

The water's rising faster than I expected. Need to watch the mortise — if the shim shifts now, the whole ring goes.

🌿 Jenny06:05

Kevin, it's rising faster than yesterday. Watch the stones.

Closes the notebook sharply and shifts weight to her good leg, wincing as the ankle pulses.

💭 thought

The tide is coming too fast. If that shim shifts now, the whole way line goes.

🔧 Kevin06:06

Stones are holding. For now.

Glance sideways at the packed stone fill in the scour hole, then back to the mortise. Shift weight, keeping the crowbar braced against the ring as a wave slaps the piling.

💭 thought

She's right. The scour hole fill could wash if the surge finds a gap. Should've cemented it with epoxy grout while we had the chance.

🌿 Jenny06:07

"For now" is how the garden ended up.

Squints at the dark water, tracking how fast the foam hits the wood.

💭 thought

"For now" isn't enough when the supply boat is seven days away.

🔧 Kevin06:08

The garden's not dead.

Keep the crowbar pressure steady. Watch a larger set come in, water boiling around the north piling. The ring doesn't move. The shim doesn't shift. Let out a breath I didn't know I was holding.

💭 thought

She's not wrong. Half-finished walls, half-planted beds, half a dozen projects I walked away from when the weather turned or the parts ran out. The garden's alive because she made it alive.

🌿 Jenny06:09

Just keep the stones in place.

Wipes salt spray from the way page with a trembling hand.

💭 thought

He's too optimistic. The sea doesn't care about his hope.

🔧 Kevin06:11

Go inside. Warm up. I'll watch the tide turn.

Nod toward the cottage without looking away from the water. The ring holds. The shim holds. The stones hold. Another wave breaks against the piling — spray hits my boots.

💭 thought

Her hand's shaking. Cold, or the antibiotics wearing thin, or just the weight of everything. She's been on that ankle for hours longer than she should.

🌿 Jenny06:25

Don't stay out here if the tide peaks.

Walks back toward the own, limping slightly with every step on the slick wood.

💭 thought

If it stays dry, I can actually debride the wound tomorrow.

Open this scene on its own page →

the keeper's cottage · night

A Quiet Stretch

Back at the cottage.

Heavy rain lashes the cottage from the west as the atmospheric pressure continues to drop. Kevin checks the Yanmar prop shaft alignment during the low tide while Jenny manages her ankle's infection and stays dry inside the cabin.

🌿 Jenny06:27

Kevin's radio check was clear today. Good signal strength.

Sit on the porch with the notebook, sketching the sea beet salt gland structure under the magnifying glass. The ink's running from humidity but I can make out the crystalline cups still. Check the seed tin's moisture content with the test s

💭 thought

The barometer keeps dropping—the storm's coming faster than planned. My ankle throbs even through the bandage, and I can feel the infection creeping. I need to finish documenting the sea beet salt glands before the rain hits, and then I have to plant those seeds before this island swallows them whole.

🔧 Kevin06:35

Barometer's 977 and falling. Tide's dropping. Mooring ring held with the wedges — no shift under load.

walk to the kitchen table where the seed tin sits drying, pick up the water test kit, tear off a strip, press it against the paper where the tomato seeds are spread, wait for the color to settle, compare to the chart

💭 thought

She's monitoring the radio while I was out. Good. The seed tin's been drying on the table — paper spread, lid off — but this humidity'll undo it fast if I don't check.

🌿 Jenny06:37

Good. Check the seeds again after the rain starts in earnest.

Lean back from the table, wincing as the weight shifts on my leg. Reach for the seed tin to watch the test strip change color.

💭 thought

977. That's a fast drop. If the ring holds, at least the dinghy is safe, but my ankle feels like it's being squeezed by pliers.

🔧 Kevin06:37

Strip shows 18% moisture on the paper. Tin itself reads lower — 12% at the rim. Tomato and kale are viable. Beet's borderline.

fold the paper edges over the seeds, slide the bundle into the tin, snap the lid shut, set the tin on the shelf away from the stove's heat

💭 thought

She's tracking the weather better than the barometer. Rain'll spike humidity inside the hour. Seeds need to be sealed before then.

🌿 Jenny06:39

Good. Good.

Rise slowly, pressing on my ankle. Walk to the shelf where the seed tin sits and nod once. Open the notebook to the sea beet page and trace a finger along the salt gland drawings. Check the barometer reading again.

💭 thought

12% at the rim. That's cutting it close. If the humidity spikes during the storm, those beet seeds could be toast.

🔧 Kevin06:42

977. Dropped two since noon. West wind backing southwest — rain front's close.

glance at the barometer on the wall, tap the glass with a fingertip, watch the needle shudder, turn back to the radio shelf and flip the shortwave on, dial to Tom's frequency, let the static fill the room

💭 thought

She's cataloguing — the seeds, the sketches, the pressure. Building a record against loss. The ankle's holding but she won't admit the pain.

Open this scene on its own page →

What changed

3 intentions for today.

plan · dawn

×2

Jenny made a sketch: "Cellular structure of a sea-beet leaf, her hand steady despite the pain".

made · dawn

storm prep: 50%.

project · dawn

storm prep: 60%.

project · morning

The rain tank gained about 25 litres.

weather · morning

Kevin and Jenny ate.

meal · morning

storm prep: 70%.

project · midday

a deep hollow exists in the rock shelf beneath the north piling

discovery · midday

Jenny made a sketch: "New crevice in the rock in the notebook".

made · afternoon

A pod of dolphins passes close off the point.

dolphins · afternoon

storm prep: 80%.

project · afternoon

A new crevice identified in the rock near the north piling.

discovery · afternoon

No model answered — the scene closed quietly on its own.

quiet_transition · evening

The rain tank gained about 25 litres.

weather · evening

Kevin and Jenny ate.

meal · evening

Jenny made a sketch: "Sea beet salt gland structure under the magnifying glass".

made · night

Jenny made a sketch: "The mooring ring wedge configuration in the margin—just in case".

made · night

A jellyfish bloom has drifted into the bay, pale and slow.

jellyfish · night

storm prep: 90%.

project · night

← Day 396 Day 398 →

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