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Day 446

Swell and Salt and Small Repairs

Dawn came heavy with cloud and salt. The barometer held at 983 hPa, northeast wind steady, but the swell lag would hit the dock before the rain. Kevin checked the new 150mm stainless bolts on the dock ring reinforcement — tension holding. "Greenheart's holding. Wedges are oak, vertical grain — they'll compress before they split. But I'll check the torque at slack water," he said. Jenny watched the tide climb. "The water is almost at the rotten planks." She winced moving her ankle. Inside, the pantry scratched again. Kevin had set a snap trap the night before, baited with corned beef, and sealed the grain tin with self-amalgamating tape. "Rat'd need a can opener," he said. Midday rain drummed the roof. The tide peaked, pressing the pilings, swollen wood groaning. At lowest ebb they went to the northern ledge for sea beet. Kevin moved easily across slick rock; Jenny's ankle slowed her. He carried the bucket. "I know how to walk," she said. She returned with little. Evening light faded as they boiled limpets. Kevin installed washers under loose shutter bolts to stop the rattling. "Snug. Washers under the heads." Jenny cleaned her ankle with saline, reapplied the bandage — redness persistent. Night deepened. Rain intensified, tank overflowing. Kevin de-salted the island notebook; Jenny dried heirloom seeds. The barometer held steady. A brief lull, perhaps.

Dawn came heavy with cloud and salt. The barometer held at 983 hPa, northeast wind steady, but the swell lag would hit the dock before the rain. Kevin checked the new 150mm stainless bolts on the dock ring reinforcement — tension holding. "Greenheart's holding. Wedges are oak, vertical grain — they'll compress before they split. But I'll check the torque at slack water," he said. Jenny watched the tide climb. "The water is almost at the rotten planks." She winced moving her ankle. Inside, the pantry scratched again. Kevin had set a snap trap the night before, baited with corned beef, and sealed the grain tin with self-amalgamating tape. "Rat'd need a can opener," he said. Midday rain drummed the roof. The tide peaked, pressing the pilings, swollen wood groaning. At lowest ebb they went to the northern ledge for sea beet. Kevin moved easily across slick rock; Jenny's ankle slowed her. He carried the bucket. "I know how to walk," she said. She returned with little. Evening light faded as they boiled limpets. Kevin installed washers under loose shutter bolts to stop the rattling. "Snug. Washers under the heads." Jenny cleaned her ankle with saline, reapplied the bandage — redness persistent. Night deepened. Rain intensified, tank overflowing. Kevin de-salted the island notebook; Jenny dried heirloom seeds. The barometer held steady. A brief lull, perhaps.

Scenes

the dock · dawn

monitoring the structural swell

Kevin and Jenny sit on the porch as the cloud cover thickens over the salt air. Kevin checks the tension on the new 150mm stainless bolts on the dock ring reinforcement.

The dawn air is heavy and humid, with the flat sky darkening as the cloud cover increases. The tide is rising steadily against the dock pilings, and the pressure is holding steady at 983 hPa, suggesting a shift in the weather may be approaching.

🌿 Jenny05:24

The pressure is dropping. It's going to rain hard.

wipe sweat from my brow with a shaky hand, wincing at the heat radiating from my ankle.

💭 thought
If the boat doesn't come in eight days, I won't have enough antibiotics to get through the next cycle.
🔧 Kevin05:25

Barometer held at 983 this morning. Wind's still northeast though — swell lag'll hit the dock before the rain does.

set down the 19mm wrench, stand, and walk to the porch rail to check Jenny's ankle bandage

💭 thought
She's right about the pressure — barometer was 983 at dawn, steady. But she's running hot again and that ankle's angry. The sweat, the shake in her hand... infection's fighting back. Need to check the wound, maybe up the metronidazole if the red line's moved past my mark.
🌿 Jenny05:25

Let the swell come. The dock is holding for now.

pull my leg away slightly as he approaches, feeling the sharp throb of the infection pulsing through the gauze.

💭 thought
He's looking at the water while I'm looking at the red streaks.
🔧 Kevin05:27

Let me look. Now.

crouch beside her, reach for the gauze edge with steady fingers

💭 thought
She pulled away. Protective. Stubborn. The red line was at the pen mark this morning — if it's pulsing now, the doxy's not winning alone. Metronidazole covers the anaerobes but we're down to five tablets. Gotta see the wound.
🌿 Jenny05:27

way. Don't pull it fast.

grip the edge of the porch bench, knuckles turning white, and watch him peel back the fabric.

💭 thought
way always gets so clinical when I feel like a specimen being pinned.
🔧 Kevin05:29

Kettle's hot. Hold on.

peel the gauze back millimetre by millimetre, using the other hand to press the skin down ahead of the pull

💭 thought
She's bracing. Good — means she knows it's bad. Peel slow, don't tear the granulation. Gauze is stuck. Need saline to loosen but we're out. Warm water from the kettle, clean cloth. Work the edges first.
🌿 Jenny05:29

It's stuck. way...

bite my lip to keep from crying out, eyes fixed on the rotting wood of the floorboards.

💭 thought
The gauze is sticking to the raw skin. God, it hurts to even breathe.
🔧 Kevin05:31

Steam it loose. Tin mug — hot water. Don't move.

rise, walk to the stove, fill a tin mug from the kettle, carry it back, crouch, hold the mug close so steam hits the gauze edges, wait

💭 thought
Stuck fast. Ripping it takes new tissue with it. Need moisture. Kettle's on the stove — tin mug, pour hot water, let steam work the fibers loose. Don't pour on the wound. Steam the gauze, work a corner free.
🌿 Jenny05:31

okay. The wind is...

watch the damp fibers soften under the heat, breathing through gritted teeth.

💭 thought
The steam is the only thing that feels better than the fire in my leg.
🔧 Kevin05:33

Corner's free. Rolling it now. Talk to me — wind doing what?

roll the gauze back slow from the loosened corner, exposing the wound, eyes tracking the red line against the pen mark

💭 thought
Steam's working. Fibers lifting. Wind's picking up — she felt it before I did. Northeast swell on a falling barometer means the dock takes load different. But right now the gauze corner's free. Work it slow, roll don't pull. Metronidazole next if the line's moved.

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the dock · morning

Morning Tide Rise

The tide continues to climb higher toward the dock planks. The air is thick with the scent of salt and approaching rain.

The rain continues its steady, rhythmic drumming against the roof as the midday heat remains heavy. The tide has reached its peak, pressing against the dock's pilings and making the swollen wood groan slightly under the swell. Inside the cottage, the smell of damp earth and drying herbs fills the air, while the scratching in the pantry echoes through the walls.

🌿 Jenny05:33

Jenny — winince as I shift my weight, pressing a damp cloth against the heat of my ankle.

💭 thought
If the water gets any higher, the rot in those two planks will give before I can even step onto the dinghy.
🔧 Kevin05:35

You need water. I'll get the mug.

Walk to the cottage kitchen, fill a tin mug from the tank tap, bring it back to her on the porch.

💭 thought
She's still in pain. The poultice isn't drawing enough heat. Need to check the wound again when the light's better, maybe swap to a cooler compress. But she's not complaining — just enduring. That's the part that gets me.
🌿 Jenny05:35

Thank you, Kevin.

Take the mug with trembling hands, my eyes staying on the damp sea beet sketches.

💭 thought
He thinks a cup of water will fix a fever that's deep in the marrow.
🔧 Kevin05:37

Drink it slow.

Sit on the porch step beside her, close enough that our shoulders almost touch, and watch the tide climb the dock planks while she drinks.

💭 thought
Hands shaking. Could be the fever breaking, could be the antibiotics kicking in, could be the blood loss from the debridement yesterday. She's too thin. We both are.
🌿 Jenny05:37

The water is almost at the rotten planks.

Take a small, slow sip of water and lean my head back against the wall, closing my eyes for a second.

💭 thought
He's hovering. I can feel him watching me, waiting for me to break or heal or just be still.
🔧 Kevin05:39

Greenheart's holding. Wedges are oak, vertical grain — they'll compress before they split. But I'll check the torque at slack water.

Reach over and rest a hand on her good ankle, just briefly — a grounding touch — then stand and walk to the dock edge to sight the gap between the sister plank and the original beam.

💭 thought
She's watching the dock too. Good — means she's tracking the world, not just the pain. The rotten planks are the landward two, starboard side. Greenheart sister plank's bolted but floating on that scoured void. If the swell pushes hard at high tide, the bolts could work loose before the epoxy fully kicks.
🌿 Jenny05:39

Don't go too far, the wood is slick with the rain.

Set the mug down on the low table and watch him, my hand still shaking from the feverish heat of the infection.

💭 thought
He's checking the structural integrity while I'm the one rotting from the inside out.
🔧 Kevin05:41

Not going on it. Just sighting from the landward cleat.

Stay on the solid section of dock, braced against the piling, and use the 19mm wrench to check the three 150mm through-bolt nuts on the sister knee by feel — no need to step on the repair.

💭 thought
She's right. The greenheart's slick as eel skin when wet. One wrong step on the sister plank and I'm in the drink with a busted ankle of my own. But the gap's what matters — if it's opened more than a millimeter since dawn, the come-along needs re-tensioning before the next ebb.

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the keeper's cottage · midday

Midday Rain Shelter

They meet under the small overhang as the rain intensifies, the sound of the rat in the pantry a constant reminder of the intrusion.

The rain continues its steady percussive drumming against the cottage roof while the air remains heavy and humid. Inside, the smell of damp wood and salt-dried herbs lingers as the tide begins its slow retreat from the shore.

🌿 Jenny05:41

It's in the pantry again.

Wipes sweat from her forehead with a shaky hand and winces as she shifts weight away from her infected ankle.

💭 thought
If that thing gets into the flour, I'm going to lose my mind. My leg is screaming.
🔧 Kevin05:43

Heard it. Set the snap trap last night. Baited with corned beef.

walk to the pantry door and press my ear to the wood, listening for movement behind the shelves

💭 thought
She's favouring the leg hard. The doxycycline's been in her system twelve hours — should be biting by now, but the metronidazole's only had one dose. Infection doesn't care about schedules. The rat's the least of it, but she's looking at the pantry door like it's the problem she can name.
🌿 Jenny05:43

I hope it didn't find the grain first.

Sets her sketch pencil down and watches at the way door, her jaw tight.

💭 thought
Corned beef? That's a waste if it's already gone.
🔧 Kevin05:45

Tin's sealed. Self-amalgamating tape on the lid. Rat'd need a can opener.

crouch and pull the snap trap from behind the shelf, checking the bait and trigger mechanism

💭 thought
Grain's in the tin with the E on it — sealed, heavy, rusted. If the rat got through that, we got bigger problems than a rodent. She's watching the door like it might open on its own. Her ankle's throbbing; I can see it in the way she's not breathing right.
🌿 Jenny05:45

Check the floor for dropped sea beet leaves.

Leans against the doorframe, breathing through teeth as her ankle throces with the movement.

💭 thought
At least he's thinking about the seals. My head is spinning.

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the keeper's cottage · afternoon

The Receding Tide

The tide is further out, exposing the slick rocks of the lower tide pools. The rain persists, but the atmospheric pressure continues to climb, suggesting a possible break in the weather.

Kevin and Jenny head to the tide pools to forage while the tide is at its lowest. Kevin navigates the slick rocks with ease to find plenty, while Jenny struggles with her ankle and only manages to collect a small amount.

🌿 Jenny05:47

Jenny — uses a pair of tweezers to carefully lift the edge of a sea beet sketch, breathing shallowly as the paper resists.

💭 thought
If I can't get these sketches dry properly, the salt will ruin the morphology studies and the whole day is wasted.
🔧 Kevin05:47

Lower shelf's exposed. Sea beet on the northern ledge if you want it.

Walk to the tide pools, bucket in hand, watching the water line.

💭 thought
She's gentle with the paper. Hands steady despite everything. The tide's giving us the lower shelves — sea beet on the northern ledge, maybe two hours before the water takes it back. Barometer's still climbing. Could be a window this afternoon if the rain lets up.
🌿 Jenny05:49

I can see the tide is out, Kevin.

Sets the tweezers down with a sharp click and stares at the throbbing redness in her ankle.

💭 thought
He thinks I'm just going to sit here and watch the clock while the island rots.
🔧 Kevin05:49

Didn't say you couldn't. Said the northern ledge is dry. Best stand of sea beet on the island. Two hours before the tide takes it.

Stand at the cottage door, wiping hands on a rag, watching her ankle.

💭 thought
Sharp tongue. Good — means the fever's properly gone. Ankle's angry but the line hasn't moved past my pen mark. She's assessing, not panicking. That's the woman I married.
🌿 Jenny05:51

I'm not asking for permission.

Grabs the edge of the table to stand, teeth gritted as she manages to shift her weight onto the good leg.

💭 thought
If I don't go now, the fever will be the only thing left of me by own.
🔧 Kevin05:51

Right. I'll carry the bucket. You watch your footing on the slick rock.

Pick up the galvanized bucket and wait by the door for her.

💭 thought
Stubborn as the Yanmar's starter cord. She'll go whether I help or not. Better I carry the bucket and keep an eye on the swell.
🌿 Jenny05:53

I know how to walk.

Picks up the small seed tin from the table, tucking it under her arm, and limps toward the door.

💭 thought
He talks like I'm a glass vase that's about to crack.
🔧 Kevin05:53

Kevin — follow her out onto the porch, bucket in hand, scanning the sky and the tide line.

💭 thought
She does. She's walked worse ground than this with a heavier load. My job's the bucket and the radio if the weather turns.

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the keeper's cottage · evening

Evening on Day 446

The two meet in the kitchen as the light fades, the smell of boiling limpets fills the small room while the wind begins to pick.

Kevin inspected the cottage shutters and installed washers under the loose bolts to stop the rattling in the wind. Jenny meticulously cleaned her swollen ankle with saline and reapplied the bandage, noting the persistent redness despite treatment.

🌿 Jenny05:55

The barometer is dropping. We need to secure the porch.

sits heavily at the table and lifts the swollen ankle onto the chair.

💭 thought
My own is screaming and I can't even look at the sketches without wanting to cry from salt-water.
🔧 Kevin05:55

Porch first. Generator. Then the dinghy.

walk to the porch and check the shutter hinges and lashing points

💭 thought
Barometer's dropping faster than I liked. Wind's already shifting. Porch shutters and the generator lashings first — then the dinghy lines if the swell builds.
🌿 Jenny05:57

Check the bolts on the south shutter, they're rattling.

reaches for the first aid kit to pull out the gauze and clean water.

💭 thought
He thinks if he tightens every bolt the world will stop coming apart.
🔧 Kevin05:57

Got it. Back in a minute.

grab the 19mm wrench and a handful of flat washers from the tool shelf, then step out onto the porch to inspect the south shutter bolts

💭 thought
South shutter's been loose since the last blow. Bolts probably backed out of the stone. Need the 19mm and some washers if the holes are wallowed.
🌿 Jenny05:59

Don't over-torque them, the wood is already soft.

unwinds the bandage from her ankle and winces at the angry redness.

💭 thought
If this infection gets to the bone, I'll never walk the north ridge.
🔧 Kevin05:59

Snug. Washers under the heads.

tighten the south shutter bolts with the 19mm wrench, placing flat washers under each bolt head and stopping when firm without forcing

💭 thought
She's right — the lintels are rotted at the ends. Snug only, not cranked. Washers will spread the load.
🌿 Jenny06:01

way. Check the fuel level on the generator before the rain gets heavier.

dips a clean cloth into saline and carefully wipes the area around the infection.

💭 thought
At least one thing isn't rattling anymore.
🔧 Kevin06:01

Checking now.

step to the generator on the porch, pull the dipstick, and read the fuel level by the fading light

💭 thought
Generator's on the porch. Tank's plastic, sight line's faded. Need a torch to read it proper in this light. Or dip the stick.

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the keeper's cottage · night

Night in the Rain

The rain intensifies into a downpour as the tank overflows. Kevin and Jenny gather together inside the cottage, watching the barometer for further drops.

The heavy humid air hangs over the cottage as the wet season night settles. Kevin focuses on de-salting the island notebook while Jenny manages the drying of the heirloom seeds. The barometer pressure remains steady, suggesting a brief lull in the heavy weather patterns.

🌿 Jenny06:03

The pressure is falling again. Check the moorings.

Reach for the notebook while rubbing the heat in my ankle.

💭 thought
If that barometer drops any lower, the dock is going to take a beating I can't fix with one leg.
🔧 Kevin06:03

Already on it. Boots by the door.

Pull on oilskins and boots, grab the headlamp and 19mm wrench, head out to the dock to check mooring lines and piling shims at the waterline.

💭 thought
She's right. Barometer's dropped four millibars since noon. With this rain and the tank overflowing, the ground's saturated — pilings will shift if the swell picks up. Need to check the dock before full dark.
🌿 Jenny06:05

Be careful with the swell, the wood is slick.

Open the seed tin to check the moisture on the heirloom packets.

💭 thought
He's out there in the surge while I'm sitting here smelling like salt and rot.
🔧 Kevin06:05

Headlamp's got fresh batteries. Back in twenty.

Step onto the dock, testing each plank. Shine light along the waterline — check the north piling shim, the sister knee bolts, the mooring ring mortise. Wrench ready if anything's walked.

💭 thought
Swell's running hard against the pilings. Greenheart shim held at low tide but this rain adds weight and lubrication. If the north piling walks, the sister knee takes the load — and those through-bolts are only finger-tight plus a quarter.

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What changed

3 intentions for today.
plan · dawn
×2
Dock structural maintenance: 50%.
project · dawn
The rain tank gained about 25 litres.
weather · dawn
A rat has gotten into the pantry.
rat · morning
Dock structural maintenance: 60%.
project · morning
A rat has breached the pantry and is nesting near the stored grains
discovery · morning
The rain tank gained about 25 litres.
weather · morning
Kevin and Jenny ate.
meal · morning
Jenny made a sketch: "Pencil down".
made · midday
Dock structural maintenance: 70%.
project · midday
Fruit is ripening in the woods — you can smell it before you see it.
fruit · afternoon
Dock structural maintenance: 80%.
project · afternoon
Large limpet clusters thrive in the northern shelf's shadows.
discovery · afternoon
The rain tank gained about 25 litres.
weather · afternoon
Dock structural maintenance: 90%.
project · evening
Kevin and Jenny ate.
meal · evening
A pod of dolphins passes close off the point.
dolphins · night
Dock structural maintenance is finished.
project_done · 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.