Day 553

The chapter for this day hasn't been written yet — it's written once the day closes.

Scenes

the dock · dawn

The Calm Before the Arrival

Kevin and Jenny stand on the dock as the air pressure continues to drop. Kevin checks the tension on the dinghy mooring lines while Jenny monitors the barometer for the incoming storm.

The overcast sky remains heavy as the pressure continues its slow descent, hitting 988 hPa. The tide is rising steadily, lapping higher up the shimmed pilings and testing the structural integrity of the dock's sistered joints.

🌿 Jenny17:13

The tide is coming in, Kevin. Double-check the seaward bolts on the jetty; the wood is too soft to hold the full surge.

Adjusts the ankle brace with a sharp grimace, moves the heirloom seed tin to the highest shelf in the cottage, and begins mixing the copper sulfate for the poultice.

💭 thought

The pressure is at 988 and rising, but it's a false mercy; the swell is already building out there. Kevin is being frantic with those lines—he doesn't realize the wood is rotting through. If those bolts give, the dinghy is lost, and we are stranded. My ankle is throbbing in time with the tide, and I need to get the seeds to the high shelf before the salt spray reaches them.

🔧 Kevin17:14

Already on it. North piling's shimmed, south took the sister plank. But the ring mortise is splintered — oak wedges are holding but they'll crush if the surge hits hard.

walk to the seaward end of the dock, crouch to inspect the bolt heads where the greenheart sister meets the original timber, tap each with the heavy wrench to check for movement

💭 thought

She's right about the bolts. The seaward ones took the worst of last winter's swell and the greenheart shim under the north piling only buys us so much. I should've sistered them properly when I had the epoxy.

🌿 Jenny17:14

Then double the wedges. If they start to give, we need to lash the dinghy to the pilings to take the strain off.

Grabs the notebook and a pencil, sketching a quick structural diagram of the sistered joint to visualize where the reinforcement needs to brace.

💭 thought

He's right about the mortise; the wood is like wet cardboard there. If that ring shears off, the dinghy goes into the channel and I'm not swimming for it again. My ankle feels like it's melting, but I have to focus.

🔧 Kevin17:16

Dinghy's already on double stern lines to the ring. Need to re-rig: bow to north piling, port quarter to south. That'll spread it. Got the heavy weather line coiled in the crate.

climb down to the lower landing, uncoil the heavy weather line from the crate, carry it back to the dinghy and start threading a bowline around the north piling base above the barnacle line

💭 thought

Doubling wedges won't hold if the mortise itself is gone. But lashing the dinghy to the pilings — that's smart. Puts the load on the driven piles, not the ring. She's thinking like a rigger.

🌿 Jenny17:16

Make sure the lines have enough slack for the surge. If they're too tight, they'll just pull the bolts out.

Limps back toward the cottage, clutching her ankle, to check the mold levels in the seed tin before the wind picks up.

💭 thought

If he can distribute the load between the pilings, the ring might hold long enough. But the barometer is still dropping, and the sky is turning that color. My ankle is screaming at me with every movement of the tide.

🔧 Kevin17:18

Slack's built in. Bow's got two metres of play. Doing the quarter now.

thread the heavy weather line from the dinghy's port quarter cleat around the south piling, pull through enough slack for a full metre of surge rise, secure with a round turn and two half hitches, then step back to eye the geometry of both

💭 thought

She's right. Taught lines in a rising swell just become levers. Need slack for the boat to rise with the water, not fight it. The bowline's set — now the quarter line to the south piling, same principle.

🌿 Jenny17:18

Check the wedges again. If they slip under the first big wave, we lose the whole setup.

Leans against the cottage wall, breathing through the pain, and watches the water rise higher up the pilings.

💭 thought

He's moving faster than I am. If those lines hold, the dinghy stays, but the wood on that jetty is so far gone. My ankle is throbbing in sync with the tide.

🔧 Kevin17:20

Checking.

crouch at the mooring ring, run fingers over each wedge tip to feel for movement, tap the two loosest with the mallet to seat them deeper, then stand and scan the waterline on the pilings — it's climbed three inches since dawn

💭 thought

The wedges are oak, vertical grain, driven hard. But the mortise is splintered pine — the wood around them is what'll crush. Should've sistered the ring collar with greenheart when I had the stock. Too late now. Best I can do is check they're seated and maybe drive a couple deeper if the mallet reaches.

🌿 Jenny17:20

The pressure is still dropping. We need to get the seeds inside the cottage before the rain starts.

Pulls the notebook from her pocket and traces the rot line on the dock with a finger, marking exactly where the wood is softest.

💭 thought

The tide is coming in too fast. If that dock doesn't hold, the wayhy will be smashed against the rocks. My ankle feels like it's being squeezed in pliers.

🔧 Kevin17:22

On it. Tin's on the porch shelf. Newspaper-wrapped packets go to the pantry. Compromised ones already bagged.

walk up the dock toward the cottage, grab the heirloom seed tin from the porch shelf, carry it inside and set it on the pantry shelf away from the wall, then collect the newspaper-wrapped seed packets and stow them beside it

💭 thought

Seeds first. The tin's on the high porch shelf — dry for now but the wind's backing southwest, rain'll drive horizontal inside an hour. The compromised packets are already bagged for burning. The viable ones in newspaper wrap go to the pantry shelf. I'll move them on the way past.

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the dock · morning