Day 735

Falling Pressure, Rising Rot

Dawn found Kevin and Jenny at the south dock. The tide pulled back over the rocks, exposing pilings gone soft as wet sponge. The barometer read 990 hPa and falling. Kevin drilled injection ports into the greenheart scarf joint — three ports, the third angled from beneath — but the epoxy only seeped into grey mush. "Way don't go through the other side," Jenny said from the bucket where she soaked her swollen ankle. "The wood is basically mush." He drilled fifty millimeters max, stopped at sound wood, let the epoxy wick.

At lowest tide Kevin inspected the cottage shutter, tapping and marking rot near the waterline. Jenny limped toward the shed for the bow saw. "Make sure it's the one with the sharp teeth," she called. "The other one is rusted through." Rain swept in from the west. Kevin tested the Yanmar under load — clean, no vibration — while Jenny stayed inside with a sea beet poultice on her ankle.

Evening pressure held at 994 hPa, but the air thickened. They met at the old shrine, discussed the supply boat. Later, in the cottage, the barometer dropped to 987. "That's not a suggestion," Kevin said, offering the blanket. "Fine. Just stop pacing the floor," Jenny replied. She sketched all day: tide pools, soil profiles, salt crust, ridge erosion, clouds gathering west. The rain tank gained twenty-five liters. They ate twice. The south dock piling replacement was finished.

Scenes

the dock · dawn

The Falling Pressure

Kevin and Jenny stand at the edge of the south dock watching the tide pull out over the rocks. Kevin checks the barometer, noting the steady drop to 990 hPa, while Jenny adjusts the wrap on her soaking ankle near a bucket of salt water.

The drill bit bites into the wood, but instead of finding solid resistance, it sinks into a soft, pulpy mass. The epoxy injection fails to hold, merely seeping into the greyish-mush-like fibers of the rot. The tide continues to recede, exposing more of the waterlogged and structurally compromised state of the south dock piling.

🔧 Kevin13:25

Tide's dropping. Barometer's at nine-ninety and heading south. You want to sit this one out or walk the pilings with me?

check the barometer reading again, then walk toward the northeast corner of the dock to inspect the epoxy patch and sister brace bolts

💭 thought

The barometer's falling faster than yesterday. Northeast corner leak still weeping despite the epoxy patch. Need to check the sister brace bolts before the tide turns — if the piling shifts another millimeter the dock goes.

🌿 Jenny13:25

I'll stay here. The leg's too stiff today.

Lean against the dock post, shifting weight off the swollen ankle, and watch the water recede from the kelp.

💭 thought

My ankle is throbbing in time with the tide, and the air feels like lead.

🔧 Kevin13:26

Right. I'll check the pilings and the leak. Won't be long.

walk to the northeast corner of the dock, crouch to examine the epoxy patch on the piling and the sister brace bolts, probe the wood with the nail puller to test for softness

💭 thought

She's favouring it bad. The swelling's past the knee now by the look of it. Should've pushed the medevac forms harder yesterday instead of letting her talk me down. But she'd have refused the boat same as she refused the radio call to the mainland clinic.

🌿 Jenny13:27

Be careful with that joint. The wood is like a wet sponge.

Pull the notebook from my pocket and start sketching the pattern of the tide pools on the rocks.

💭 thought

He's going to find the rot. I can smell it even over the salt.

🔧 Kevin13:29

Greenheart's wicking at the scarf. I'll drill injection ports when the tide's low enough to see the full joint. Two ports, epoxy syringe, let it soak before the next flood.

use the nail puller to scrape back the epoxy skin at the scarf joint, expose the end grain, then probe with the tip to gauge how far the moisture's travelled up the sister plank

💭 thought

She's right — the sister plank's drinking water at the joint. Greenheart's dense but the end grain's open where we scarfed it. Epoxy's only skin deep. Need to drill and inject, or the rot walks the bolt line by winter.

🌿 Jenny13:29

Don't drill too deep. The structure is probably brittle right now.

Watch him work, my hand gripping the pencil tighter as a sharp twinge shoots through my ankle.

💭 thought

If the rot goes that deep, the whole section is compromised. I need to focus on the ridge instead.

🔧 Kevin13:30

Rot's tracking the bolt line. Three ports, not two. Third one angled from under the scarf.

mark three injection port positions with the pencil — two through the sister plank face, one angled up from the underside of the scarf joint — then reach for the 6mm drill bit from the tool belt

💭 thought

She knows timber. Knows I know timber. Still tells me anyway — that's the deal. The probe sinks half an inch before resistance. Rot's tracking along the bolt line toward the piling heart. Two injection ports won't reach it. Need a third, angled up from below the scarf.

🌿 Jenny13:39

way don't go through the other side. The wood is basically mush.

Wince, shifting my ankle away from the timber to avoid attention to the throbbing.

💭 thought

He's right, the bolts are always the path of least resistance for the water.

🔧 Kevin13:39

Won't drill through. Fifty mil max on the angled port. Stop at sound wood. Epoxy'll wick up the grain.

chuck the 6mm bit in the brace, drill the two face ports slow and clean, then lie back on the damp planks to drill the angled port from under the scarf, feeling for the change in resistance

💭 thought

She's seen the core samples. Knows the piling's heart is gone. Drilling through just makes a longer straw for the sea. The third port from underneath — stop at fifty mil, hit the sound wood above the rot column. Epoxy's thin. Capillary action'll pull it up the grain if I give it time.

🌿 Jenny13:43

Watch the pressure. It's already saturated there.

Watch the drill bit enter the wood, my breath held against the swollen skin of my leg.

💭 thought

If he hits solid wood, maybe the dock will hold another season. My ankle feels like fire.

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the dock · morning

Morning of Day 735

The tide is at its lowest, revealing the full extent of the dock damage. The sky remains flaten, and the air pressure continues to drop.

Kevin inspected the dock pilings for structural integrity, noting that the rot in the south-end planks remained significant. Jenny spent the morning in the garden documenting the progress of the heirloom seedlings and sketching the soil conditions in her notebook.

🌿 Jenny13:45

Jenny — wincing as she shifts weight, Jenny tightens the ankle brace, and limps back toward the cottage.

💭 thought

If the boat doesn't come in nine days, I'll be out of antibiotics and this infection will reach the bone.

🔧 Kevin13:45

Back to the porch. Stay off it.

Walk to the south end of the dock, inspect the piling base at low tide, then head to the woods for greenheart selection.

💭 thought

She's not saying it, but that limp's worse than yesterday. The south piling's gone past patching — rot's eaten the core. Need greenheart for the replacement, and the tide's only low for another hour.

🌿 Jenny13:47

I'm already moving.

Jenny sits on the porch steps, pulls her swollen ankle up onto a crate, and opens her notebook to sketch the soil profile of the north ridge.

💭 thought

He thinks a command will stop the swelling, but the rot is already deep in the wood.

🔧 Kevin13:47

Kevin — walk into the woods toward the greenheart stand, axe and saw in hand, checking trunks for straight grain and minimal knot.

💭 thought

She's sketching. Means she's staying put for now. Good. The piling needs a straight-grained greenheart section, twelve foot minimum, and the tide's turning in forty minutes.

🌿 Jenny13:51

Jenny — jenny presses the pencil to the paper, sketching the jagged line of the north ridge while her hand shakes slightly from the pain in her leg.

flagged: repeated_opener

💭 thought

The silence between us is heavier than the humidity. He won't even look at the bandage.

🔧 Kevin13:53

Kevin — walk into the woods toward the greenheart stand, axe and saw ready, scanning trunks for straight twelve-foot sections with clean grain.

flagged: repeated_opener

💭 thought

Her hand's shaking. She won't say it hurts. The greenheart stand's half a mile in — need to move fast before the tide covers the piling base.

🌿 Jenny13:54

Jenny — jenny stops own for a moment, staring at the half-weeded garden behind the cottage, feeling the throb in her ankle.

flagged: repeated_opener

💭 thought

He's looking for wood to build, and I'm looking for soil that can actually breathe.

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the keeper's cottage · midday

Midday Heat Rise

Kevin and Jenny meet at the cottage as the heavy air thickens. The tide has reached its lowest point.

Kevin inspected the cottage shutter to determine the extent of the rot, tapping and marking the soft wood near the waterline. Jenny moved toward the cottage while wincing from the throbbing in her ankle, intending to retrieve the bow saw from the shed for the upcoming repair work.

🔧 Kevin13:54

Coffee's on the stove. Mug by the radio.

walk to the porch rail, scan the dock and south piling at low tide, then head down the path toward the dock with hammer and chalk

💭 thought

She's moving slow. Ankle's worse than she let on. Tide's dead low — gives me maybe two hours on the south piling before water comes back. Need to get the sister brace on before then.

🌿 Jenny13:55

Don't push too hard, the wood is soft.

Apply a fresh layer of sea beet poultice to the swollen ankle and open the notebook to the soil pH log.

💭 thought

My ankle is throbbing in time with the tide and I can't even look at the garden without wanting to cry.

🔧 Kevin13:56

Not pushing. Just tapping. Sound tells me where the rot stops.

reach the dock, crouch at the south piling, tap upward from the mudline with the hammer handle, marking the solid-to-rot transition with chalk

💭 thought

She's right. South piling's punky to the waterline. Sister brace is the only way — greenheart plates, 150mm through-bolts, epoxy in the holes. Got one bolt left from the original supply. Need to make it count.

🌿 Jenny13:57

The pH on the ridge is too low for grandmother's seeds anyway.

Watch him mark the wood while sketching the morphology of the salt crust on the nearby stone.

💭 thought

If the dock goes, the whole survey fails, and I'm stuck here with the weeds.

🔧 Kevin13:58

Lime's in the shed. Two sacks. Spread it tomorrow if the back holds.

finish chalk line at the rot boundary, measure the sound section above, call out the dimension for the sister plate cut

💭 thought

She's logging salt crust morphology while I mark rot lines. Same impulse — document before it's gone. Ridge pH at 5.5 won't carry brassicas without lime. Got two sacks damp in the shed. Need to spread before the next rain.

🌿 Jenny13:59

I'll get the saw. We need to dry it first.

Stand up slowly, wincing as the ankle throbs, and head toward the cottage to find the tools.

💭 thought

If we can't stabilize this section, the supply boat won't even tie off.

🔧 Kevin14:00

Sit. I'll cut. You log.

climb back up the path to the shed, retrieve the bow saw and the two greenheart offcuts staged under the eaves, carry them to the dock

💭 thought

She shouldn't be walking on it. Antibiotics are in her but the joint's hot. She'll saw greenheart one-handed if I don't stop her. Tide gives ninety minutes. I'll cut the plates. She logs pH.

🌿 Jenny14:03

Be careful with the grain. The greenheart is waterlogged.

Sit on the porch steps, leaning my swollen ankle against the wood, and open the notebook to the soil pH page.

💭 thought

He doesn't see how much my hand is shaking, just like the tide.

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the keeper's cottage · afternoon

Afternoon repair prep

The heat remains heavy under the overcast sky as the pressure drops. Kevin meets Jenny at the cottage to discuss the plan for the shutter.

Heavy rain intensifies from the west, forcing Kevin to test the Yanmar engine under load to check for vibrations despite the downpour. Jenny stays indoors at the cottage, focusing on managing her swollen ankle while the storm brews.

🌿 Jenny14:05

The rot is deeper than the surface damage. I need the bow saw from the shed before we can even think about the epoxy.

Lean against the whitewashed stone wall, shifting weight off the swollen ankle and wincing slightly.

💭 thought

My ankle is throbbing in time with the thunder, and the rot is worse than I thought. I need that saw before the rain really opens up.

🔧 Kevin14:06

I'll get the saw. You stay off it.

walk to the shed, retrieve the bow saw, return to cottage

💭 thought

She's favouring the bad ankle hard. The saw's in the shed — twenty metres of uneven ground. I should get it.

🌿 Jenny14:09

way make sure it's the one with the sharp teeth. The other one is rusted through.

Sit on the porch bench, pulling out the notebook to sketch the way the clouds are gathering over the west.

💭 thought

He's always so practical when I'm failing. I could have finished the north ridge today if my leg would cooperate.

🔧 Kevin14:09

Right.

walk to shed, check both saws, bring the sharp one back to cottage

💭 thought

Two saws in the shed. One sharp, one rusted. She knows which is which because she catalogued them. I'll bring the right one.

🌿 Jenny14:11

Thanks. I'll start the pH test near the garden wall once this leg stops acting up.

Prop the way ankle up on a crate, watching the first heavy drops of rain hit the dust.

💭 thought

At least he's listening. If that rain hits before I get the way dug, the soil is going to be a mess.

🔧 Kevin14:11

Tank's full if you need water for the strips. I'll strip the rot off the shutter.

set up work area at east shutter, lay out tools, begin removing rotted wood with hammer and chisel

💭 thought

She's pushing through pain to work. The pH kit's new from the supply boat. She'll need clean water for the tests — tank's full. I should set up the shutter repair while she rests the ankle.

🌿 Jenny14:13

Don't push too hard, the wood is soft like wet paper.

Reach for the tin of grandmother's seeds, tracing the cold metal edge without opening it.

💭 thought

He's working too hard while I'm just sitting here leaking salt and pain. The ridge won't wait for me.

🔧 Kevin14:13

Sawing it. Cleaner.

use the bow saw to cut out the rotted section of the shutter frame, following the chalk line

💭 thought

She's right — the rot goes deep. Chisel will just tear fibres. Better to saw clean to sound wood, then epoxy the new pieces in.

🌿 Jenny14:16

Be careful with the splinters, the whole frame is compromised.

Wince as a sharp cram rolls through my leg, shifting my weight to relieve the pressure.

💭 thought

The sound of the saw is grating against the pulse in my own. I should be out there, not watching the wood fall.

🔧 Kevin14:16

Almost through.

finish the saw cut, remove the rotted section, test the remaining frame for sound wood

💭 thought

She's watching the work, not the notebook. The cramp's bad. Rain's coming down proper now. I'll finish the cut fast and get the new timber in before the frame shifts.

🌿 Jenny14:17

It looks bad on the inside. We're going to have to reinforce that properly. continuedDO: Rub the swollen skin of my ankle, feeling the heat radiating from the infection.

💭 thought

If that frame goes, the cottage starts giving up just like my knee. I need to see the soil tomorrow.

🔧 Kevin14:18

Rot's deeper. Need a full-height sister. I'll cut greenheart. You change the poultice.

measure the shutter frame height, walk to shed for greenheart offcut and 150mm through-bolts, return to cottage

💭 thought

The rot goes past the chalk line. Frame's sponge inside. Need a sister piece the full height, through-bolted. And she needs the poultice changed — heat means infection's active.

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the old shrine · evening

Evening in the storm

The rain doesn't let up as evening falls, and the chill inside the cottage grows with the smell of damp wood.

Kevin and Jenny met at the old shrine as the evening heat thickens. The pressure is holding at 994 hPa, but the heavy air suggests the storm is approaching. They discussed the upcoming supply boat and checked preparations before the weather turns.

🔧 Kevin14:19

Engine's clean. No vibration at load. But we've got work before this storm settles in.

walk back to the cottage, pulling the dinghy up higher on the beach and securing the bow line to the deadman anchor

💭 thought

The Yanmar held steady under load — vibration's gone since the sleeve. But this rain's going to rot everything we just fixed if I don't get the cottage sealed before dark. And Jenny's ankle needs another look; the poultice has been on since morning.

🌿 Jenny14:21

The ridge is going to wash out anyway if this keeps up.

Wince and shift my weight, rubbing the edge of the swollen ankle.

💭 thought

He's already thinking about tomorrow while I can't even stand without the world spinning.

🔧 Kevin14:21

The beds held twelve minutes on the drainage test. That's not nothing. But if the barometer drops another five millibars, we sandbag the garden wall and let the ridge go.

step onto the porch and unhook the storm lantern, then head inside to check the water tank level and start the kettle

💭 thought

She's right about the ridge. The amended beds drain fast but twelve minutes isn't magic — if the rain doesn't break, the whole north slope goes. And she's favouring that ankle harder than she was this morning.

🌿 Jenny14:23

I'm not letting grandmother's seeds go down the drain.

Reach for my notebook to sketch the erosion patterns I saw on the ridge today.

💭 thought

Twelve minutes is a joke for a soil I've waited two years to trust.

🔧 Kevin14:26

Then we shore it up. Sandbags at the garden wall, timber cribbing on the drainage bed, and you sit while I do the hauling.

set the kettle on the stove, pull the first aid kit down from the shelf, and sit at the table across from her to re-check the ankle dressing

💭 thought

She'll work herself into the ground before she lets those seeds go. The ankle's bad — I can see it in how she shifts weight — but she's reaching for the notebook anyway. Stubborn as the engine was before the sleeve.

🌿 Jenny14:27

I'll help with the sandbags once I can actually walk.

Watch his hands working the bandage, my pencil hovering over the paper.

💭 thought

He thinks he's being helpful, but he's just delaying the inevitable.

🔧 Kevin14:28

You'll stay off it. I'll haul. You direct from the porch if you have to.

finish rewrapping the ankle with fresh gauze and sea beet poultice, tape it secure, then set a tin mug of warm broth in front of her

💭 thought

She won't stay off it. I know that tone — she's already planning how to limp up the ridge with a sandbag. The infection's down from the antibiotics but the swelling's still angry. If she tears the tendon now, we're looking at a medevac and the radio's been sketchy on 2182.

🌿 Jenny14:29

The soil is too acidic anyway, I can feel it.

Take a small sip of the broth, letting the warmth hit my face.

💭 thought

I don't want to be directing from the porch like a broken general.

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the keeper's cottage · night

The Calm Before the Storm

You and Jenny are inside the cottage as the temperature drops. The wind begins to pick up through the thatch, and the barometer finally begins to dip.

Kevin and Jenny spend the evening as the sky thickens and the pressure begins to drop. Jenny rests her ankle with a sea beet poultice while Kevin monitors the barometer and prepares for the upcoming supply boat arrival.

🔧 Kevin14:30

Barometer's falling. Wind's coming up through the roof. You need the blanket off the bed?

walk to the shortwave radio on the shelf and tap the barometer face with one finger, reading the needle

💭 thought

The barometer's moving. Finally. Been waiting on this drop all afternoon — 995 to whatever it's at now. Wind's finding gaps in the thatch I thought I'd sealed. Jenny's ankle can't take cold damp on top of everything else.

🌿 Jenny14:31

Leave it. I'm warm enough.

lean back against the wall and rub the swollen skin around my ankle.

💭 thought

The pressure is dropping too fast; that ridge is going to be a mess if the drainage fails.

🔧 Kevin14:32

Your call. But the barometer's at 987 and dropping. That's not a suggestion.

pull the wool blanket from the bedroom hook and toss it over her legs without waiting for permission

💭 thought

She's not warm enough. The cottage drops ten degrees when the wind finds the thatch gaps. Her ankle's radiating heat — infection heat, not body heat. Stubborn won't keep the swelling down.

🌿 Jenny14:33

fine. Just stop pacing the floor.

pull the blanket up to my waist and open my notebook to the sketch of the math ridge.

💭 thought

he thinks he's so helpful. I can read a needle as well as he can.

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What changed

3 intentions for today.

plan · dawn

×2

Jenny made a sketch: "Pattern of the tide pools on the rocks".

made · dawn

South dock piling replacement is finished.

project_done · dawn

Jenny made a sketch: "Soil profile of the north ridge".

made · morning

Jenny made a sketch: "Jagged line of the north ridge".

made · morning

Kevin and Jenny ate.

meal · morning

Jenny made a sketch: "Morphology of the salt crust on the nearby stone".

made · midday

The rain tank gained about 25 litres.

weather · midday

Jenny made a sketch: "Way the clouds are gathering over the west".

made · afternoon

Jenny made a sketch: "Erosion patterns I saw on the ridge today".

made · evening

Kevin and Jenny ate.

meal · evening

← Day 734 Day 736 →

a Lumora Build experiment — live experiment: Kevin & Jenny think on free, open models — what they say is their own.