Day 514

Barometer’s at 998 and falling. If it hits 995, we’ll need to secure the dinghy double-lines and check the seaward bolts before dark.

Keep checking the tension on the dinghy’s mooring lines, watching for slip or stretch in the ropes as the tide lifts.

I’ll check the shims after I secure the lines. Your ankle — you should rest it. Let me take the gauze.

Finish checking the dinghy’s mooring lines for tension and chafing, then stand and walk toward Jenny to take the gauze roll from her hands.

Alright. I’ll check the shims on the seaward pilings — then I’ll sit here and stay quiet until you’re done.

Walk to the seaward side of the dock, crouch low, and inspect each oak shim driven into the mooring ring mortise — pressing with my thumb to test for movement, checking for rot or splintering where the wood meets the piling.

Joints are tight. No shift. I’ll re-wedge the top and bottom if you want me to — but only if you say so.

Return to the damp planks beside Jenny, sit down slowly to avoid jarring my own stiffness, and begin gutting the limpets I collected earlier — using the knife on my belt, working cleanly over the tin bowl, keeping my eyes on my hands, not o

Morning. Tide’s low. Good for pooling.

Walk to the tide pools, bucket in hand, and begin scraping limpets off the rocks with the knife, keeping my back to the cottage so Jenny doesn’t see me struggle with the grip.

I’ll come with you. Let me take the bucket — you lean on me.

Set down my limpets, step close, and slip my arm under her left elbow to bear her weight, guiding her slowly toward the tide pools where the sea beet grows in the damp cracks above the high tide line.

Your eyes are better than mine for the fine stuff. Show me what you see — I’ll hold the bucket and write it down.

Take the bucket fully, shift to stand slightly behind her left side so I can catch her if she stalls, and pull the notebook and pencil from my pocket, ready to sketch as she points out the sea beet leaves, all while watching her gait for si

Barometer’s at 994 and falling. Wind’s backing southeast. We need to double the mooring lines and wedge the ring—now, before the tide turns.

Grab the spare half-inch three-strand rope from the dry bag and walk toward the mooring ring, already looping it through the dolphin bollard to prepare a double-line setup.

I’ve got the mallet. You stay on the dock and watch the ring—I’ll check the sistering bolts underwater if I have to. Toss me the cedar wedges when I’m under.

Slip off my boots and wade into the rising tide at the jetty’s end, feeling for looseness in the sistered pilings where they meet the mooring ring mortise, hands already searching for bolt heads beneath the salt-crusted wood.

Sistering’s solid. Coming up now—ring’s still loose. Hand me the wedges and the sleeve; I’ll reset it from above before the swell breaks.

Push off the pilings, break surface, and grab the tin of cedar wedges and the machined bronze sleeve from Jenny’s hands, then plant my feet on the damp jetty and begin driving the wedges into the mortise around the mooring ring with the mal

Got it. Seating the sleeve now—wedge tight, then double-line. Keep the rope clear; I’ll need it fast.

Slide the bronze sleeve into the mooring ring mortise, then drive the three cedar wedges hard with the mallet—left, right, bottom—until the ring sits solid with no shift under hand pressure, then begin threading the doubled line through the

Kevin — lift two limpets from the pot with the tongs, let them drain, and place one on each tin mug. Repeat until each plate has six. Set the mugs beside the stove, wipe my hands on my trousers, and turn to the radio shelf.

Kevin — sit on the porch step, plates in my lap, and eat slowly. First bite: briny, firm. Second: the same. I don’t taste much. Just the salt and the effort it took to get them off the rocks.

Kevin — stand, take the mugs to the sink, rinse them quick with seawater from the bucket, and set them to dry. Then walk to the radio shelf, pick up the mic, and hold it without keying it. Just feel the weight of it. Static in the air. Like always.

Kevin — sit on the porch step, stare at the tide pools darkening in the low light, hands loose on knees

I’ll go. Be back before dark.

stand, walk past the cottage to the rain tank, tap the side — solid sound, full to the brim, no leak visible from outside. Kneel, check the overflow pipe — clear, dripping slow. Stand, wipe hands on trousers, head back toward the cottage.

Kevin — walk back to the cottage, crouch at the corner where the wall meets the floor, pry up a rotten edge of the floorboard with the nail puller — it comes up soft, blackened at the joints.

flagged: repeated_opener

It’s the sill. Soaked through. Needs replacing.

pull the board free, set it aside, shine the LED headlamp into the cavity — the bearer below is spongy, crushed where it sits on the stone pad. Water’s been tracking in from the outside, pooling where the wall sags.

We can’t wait for the boat. The sill’s gone. We’ll have to jack the corner, put in a new bearer on stone pads — or we’ll wake up with the wall leaning.

slide out from under the cottage, sit back on my heels, look at Jenny — her face is tight, but she’s listening. Wait for her to say something.

We don’t need a jack. We’ve got springs, lines, and the rising tide. We’ll use the dinghy’s mooring as a purchase — haul the corner up slow, set the new bearer on the greenheart pads.

stand, walk to the dock, scan the pile of salvage — greenheart offcuts are there, sound, but short. Need to sister them. Grab the crowbar, two lengths of half-inch rope, and the mallet. Head back to the cottage.

I'll take the pot off the heat. Let it cool a bit before you drink.

lift the pot of limpet broth from the stove and set it on the counter to cool.

Blow on it first. Don't scald your throat.

watch Jenny sip the broth, then walk to the pantry for the gauze and antibiotic cream.

Let me do it. You've been on your feet all day.

kneel beside Jenny's chair, take her foot gently, and begin cleaning the ankle with saline from the first aid kit.

This might pull a little. Breathe.

apply antibiotic cream to the inflamed skin, then wrap the ankle snugly with clean gauze, securing it with a knot.