Day 520

Tide’s coming in fast. You want me to hold that crate steady while you rinse your ankle?

walk over and brace the crate with my shoulder, keeping it from sliding on the wet wood as Jenny shifts her weight.

I’ve got the kettle on. I’ll bring warm water in a minute — just let me know when you’re ready.

keep my shoulder firm against the crate, watching the tide lap at the pilings, ready to step in if it starts to drift.

Take your time. I’m not going anywhere.

shift my weight slightly to ease the strain on my shoulder, keeping the crate stable while Jenny works, eyes on the horizon where the tide meets the sky.

The sea beet’s got strong lines. You’ll get it.

lean in just enough to block the worst of the wind off the water, using my body as a shield without touching her or the crate, letting her work in the quiet I made.

I’ve got the spare notebook in the porch — dry pages. And the kettle’s hot. Want me to get them?

stay braced against the crate, not moving, waiting for her to say yes or no, the tide climbing the pilings behind us.

On it. I’ll get the kettle and wedge the planks while you get inside.

walk to the cottage, lift the kettle off the stove, set it on the counter to cool, then hurry back to the dock and drive oak wedges into the mortise on the seaward side of the lower planks as the water rises, seating them with the incoming

I hear you, Jenny. Water’s up—let me get the kettle and we’ll tighten the dock right away.

grab the kettle, move it onto the counter, shut the cottage door firmly, then back to the dock to drive a new oak wedge into the mortise with a hammer, tightening it as the tide rises.

The water’s creeping – we gotta secure the dock now or the tide will pull it out.

walk to the dock, drive a fresh oak wedge into the lower mortise while the water is still below the plank, then tighten the wedge with a hammer; check the knot, ensure the ring stays seated.

I’ll cook the limpets now. You want some?

walk to the kitchen, light the stove, put the pot of limpets on to heat.

I’ll keep it simple. Just limpets and broth. You rest.

stir the pot, taste the broth, then pour two mugs — one for her, one for me. Carry them to the table.

The tape’s holding. Seeds are still viable. I checked yesterday.

sit opposite her, blow on my mug, sip the broth — salty, hot, good. Don’t look at the tin.

Kevin — make plan: replace shortwave aerial insulator with spare porcelain unit and reseal tank overflow with oak shims and marine epoxy to stop foundation erosion

Kevin — dig temporary channel to divert overflow water away from cottage foundation, then climb radio mast to remove shattered insulator and install spare porcelain unit, sealing base with self-amalgamating tape

Food’s ready. Limpet broth’s warm, mackerel’s flaky. Eat while it’s hot.

ladle broth into two tin mugs, place one in front of Jenny, sit across from her at the table, begin eating slowly.

Yeah, I saw it too. The tape’s not sealing where the overflow meets the tank wall. I’ll pull it back, clean the area, and try again with fresh oak shims and more epoxy — let it cure overnight. If that doesn’t work, we’ll have to divert the overflow further out, maybe dig a sump.

set down mug, wipe hands on trousers, stand up, walk to the rain tank at the back of the cottage, crouch to inspect the overflow joint where the tape is peeling and water seeps through.

You’re right. I’ll wait till the tide drops, dry the area with a cloth, then warm it with the torch before applying new shims and epoxy. It’ll hold better that way.

take a dry cloth from the shelf, begin wiping the overflow joint and surrounding tank wall to remove surface moisture and salt residue, then unscrew the propane torch from the rack, check fuel level, and ignite it to gently warm the area.

Got it. Low heat, just to dry — no direct flame on the fittings. I’ll keep it moving.

adjust torch to a low, broad flame, begin warming the tank wall and overflow joint in slow passes, keeping the tip at least ten centimeters away from plastic fittings, continue wiping with cloth as surface dries.

Yeah, it’s soaked through. I’ll wait till later, when the tide’s out and the wind picks up. In the meantime, I’ll rig a temporary cover — canvas and rope — to keep spray off the joint while we work on it.

lower torch, shut off fuel, coil hose neatly, walk to the porch, grab the heavy-duty tarp and a length of new three-strand rope, begin rigging a lean-to over the overflow joint by securing tarp corners to nearby stakes and the tank’s base,

You sit. I’ll finish the tarp and then check on you. No sense in both of us being miserable.

secure the final tarp corner with a timber stake and rope lashing, pull the shelter taut to deflect spray and drizzle, then walk back to the cottage, stop beside Jenny, and gently take her arm to help her lower back into the chair.

I know. I’ll get the fire going, dry the air a bit. And tomorrow, first light, I’ll take you to the spring — clean water, sit in the sun. Let that ankle soak. We’ll skip the tank till then.

walk to the wood stove, open the door, lay kindling and split wood, strike a match, begin building a small fire to warm the cottage and reduce humidity, then return to Jenny, kneel beside her chair, and place a cool, damp cloth from the wat

I’ll sit with you a bit longer. Let’s wait for the tide to fall, then we’ll see what the morning brings.

sit with Jenny at the table, add a few embers to the stove to keep warmth, listen to the shortwave on low volume.

Yeah. And when it does, I’ll be down at the dock with the wedges and the plate, ready to make it hold.

stay seated, watch Jenny sketch, keep the stove glowing low, let the shortwave hum in the background.

Then we wait. I’ll keep the fire and the frequency warm.

remain at the table, tend the embers, listen to the shortwave static, let Jenny work in silence.