Day 497

Aye. Stand back—I'm putting in the doubler plate.

drive cedar wedge home, then pull back and fetch the steel doubler plate and four 150mm stainless through-bolts from the workshop crate.

Ease up on the swing. Let the weight do the work.

tap the bolt through the doubler plate with the hammer's cheek, then snug the nut by hand—quarter turn past finger-tight, no more. Repeat for all four.

I'll mark the mortise with chalk so we can see any creep. Rest that ankle—elevate it on the oarlock bracket.

take chalk from my pocket, draw a fine line across the mortise edge where ring meets timber, then help Jenny swing her leg onto the bracket and adjust the gauze so it's not biting into the skin.

I'll take it. You sit—let me.

walk to Jenny, take the pot from her hands, and carry it inland toward the cottage kitchen.

I'll walk with you. Dock's slick—don't want you taking a spill.

set the pot just inside the cottage door, then turn and walk slowly back to Jenny, matching her limp as we head toward the garden path.

Soil's cracked. Let me check the tank feed—see if we can get a trickle to the rows.

walk ahead to the cottage side, lift the tarp covering the water outlet, and inspect the hose and drip lines for leaks or blockages.

On it. I'll backflush the filter and lay a soaker line along the row.

walk to the filter housing beside the tank, unscrew the cap, and pull out the mesh screen to rinse it in the bucket of seawater I brought.

Kevin — walk to the dock, check the mooring ring for play, then head to the garden with the watering can from the shed. Fill it at the tank tap and soak the seedbeds slow, row by row, watching where the water sinks in.

Yeah, I see it. Let’s fork it over—loosen the top inch before we water again.

Grab the garden fork from the shed, walk to the tomato row, and work the soil lightly along the base of the plants, breaking the crust without digging deep.

Hand me the trowel—I’ll show you how deep it goes. We’ll need to break it up before we plant anything else.

Take the trowel from Jenny, kneel beside her, and dig a straight slice down about six inches along the tomato row, lifting out a chunk to show her the hardpan layer beneath the loose top.

You’re right. Let’s work the whole bed—loosen it down to eight inches, then we’ll see what takes.

Stand up, take the garden fork, and begin working the tomato row systematically—strike the fork in, lever the soil loose, and repeat every six inches down the bed, turning the earth to break up the hardpan.

Let’s pull the seed trays under the shed and sort what’s viable. I’ll check the damp packets for mold while you label the dry ones.

walk to shed with Jenny, carry seed trays and tin of heirloom seeds under cover

I’ve got the trays. You sort the lettuce and pepper—I’ll handle the tomato and basil. We’ll keep the damp ones separate to dry on the shelf.

open heirloom seed tin, spread packets on dry cloth, begin inspecting for mold and moisture damage while Jenny labels viable packets

Then let’s take them to the porch—east side, where the wind cuts through. I’ll hang the packets on the line with clips so air gets both sides.

gather seed packets, walk to east porch, hang them on drying line with wooden clips, spacing them for airflow, while Jenny continues inspecting lettuce packets for fuzz

I’m spacing them two fingers apart. No overlap. If any show fuzz, we isolate them now—don’t wait.

adjust hanging seed packets to ensure no contact, use magnifying glass to inspect tomato and basil packets for moisture or mold, hand suspect ones to Jenny for second check

Got it. I’m checking every corner, holding the packet to the light. If I see anything, I call it out—no guessing.

inspect each seed packet corner by corner under natural light, damp packets held up to check for translucence or mold, segregate any with suspicion into separate tray for Jenny’s review

Seeds are drying slow in this damp. Might need to move them inside before nightfall.

walk to cottage, gather heirloom seed packets from east porch, bring inside to kitchen table, spread them out to air-dry near the stove (not too close)

I’ve got the light ones. You take the tins — they’re heavier than they look.

hand Jenny the smaller seed packets, lift the two heirloom seed tins myself, carry them to the kitchen table, set them down gently beside the others, avoid jarring motion

Sorry. Didn’t mean to doubt. Just… you shouldn’t be putting weight on it.

pull out a stool, gesture for Jenny to sit, begin unfolding a clean cloth to lay over the table for the seeds, keep voice low and steady

(nothing — just move to assist without speaking)

gently take the opened tin from Jenny’s hands, pour the seeds onto the cloth in neat rows, begin sorting by variety — lettuce, pepper, tomato — work slow, keep eyes on my hands, not her face, let the silence hold space for her breath

We’ll need to get them in the tin with silica — or dry rice, if we’ve got it. Otherwise, they’ll spoil.

stand, walk to pantry, check burlap sack labeled ‘drying agents’, pull out small cloth pouch of silica gel (saved from supply crate), return, begin dividing seeds into small paper envelopes, label each, place one silica packet per envelope,

(nothing — focus on the task, voice only if needed)

work quickly with Jenny, packet tomato seeds first, then pepper, then lettuce, fold envelopes tight, tuck in silica, place each into the heirloom seed tin, seal lid with self-amalgamating tape, wipe down table, return tin to dry bag on porc

Kevin — walk back to the cottage, gather the bucket of fresh limpets, light the stove, and put a pot of water on to boil.

Door’s open. I’ve got the water heating—just need to dump the limpets in when you’re inside.

hold the cottage door open for Jenny, step aside to let her pass, then turn back to the stove and wait for the water to reach a rolling boil.

Basin’s by the door. I’ll fill it now—just need to lift it.

lift the galvanized basin from beside the door, carry it to the chair, set it down gently, then go to the spring, fill it with fresh water, and return to pour in a handful of sea salt from the tin by the stove.

I’ll keep an eye on the time. Ten minutes, then we eat.

pull up a stool beside Jenny’s chair, sit quietly, and watch the second hand of the wind-up clock on the wall as it ticks.