Day 814

Another half-sack on that pocket. Then we let it sit.

reach into the burlap sack at my feet, scoop crushed lime into my palm, and scatter it evenly over the flagged soil pocket Jenny just tested

Just enough to kiss it.

stop scattering, brush lime dust from my palms onto my trousers, and step back to let her work the soil

Ten days. Maybe less if the wind holds west.

shift weight to my good knee, watching her work the fork, and reach for the 150mm stainless bolt on the windowsill — the last one, staged for the stringer sister joint

Set a marker stake at the edge—don't lose the pocket.

grab the cedar stake from the tool rack, drive it half an inch into the soil beside the amended patch, and step back to watch her continue working the fork through the lime

Stringer joint next. You want the drill or the wrench?

pick up the cordless drill with the 12mm bit from the porch rail, check the battery indicator, and hold it out to her

Mm. Turn the sacks on the porch before noon or they'll set hard. I'll do it.

walk to the cottage porch and start turning the lime sacks on the tarp

Tarp's battened. Won't let the air take it.

grab the fork and turn the first lime sack, breaking clumps with the tines, then the second sack, working methodically down the row

The limed beds hold 6.8 to 7.0. Tomatoes are in the right zone. Peppers too. It's the untreated strips along the wall that drag it down.

finish turning the second sack, wipe the fork clean on my trousers, and walk back toward the garden wall to check the untreated strip she's working

Coffee's hot if you want it.

Pour a mug from the kettle on the stove, set it on the table near her without pushing, lean back against the counter with my own mug.

Tin E's still on the counter too. And the poppy tin. One viable seed in that one.

Take a slow sip of coffee, watch the steam rise, don't press.

Careful with those. Last time the moisture got to them, half the packet went dark.

Nod toward the drying rack where I spread the lime-dampened newspaper, gesture without looking up, add quietly: If they're dry enough, we plant them this afternoon.

Jenny, check the cottage northeast corner for water marks while I walk the spring path at mid-ebb.

Walk to the cottage northeast corner and inspect foundation for new weep marks or cracks.

The tide's still rising, so I'll head mid-ebb to check the spring path stays passable.

Walk toward the spring path to verify it remains clear at mid-ebb tide.

Kevin — walk the spring path at mid-ebb tide, checking footing and water level.

Kevin — walk to the tide pools, collect limpets and check sea beet leaves for harvesting.

Water's at 352 litres - we're good for now. Let's get dinner ready.

Check water tank gauge, then head to kitchen to start boiling water for limpet broth

Jenny, I'll bring you that broth. You just rest here.

Fill kettle with water from tap, set it on wood stove, gather pot of limpets from kitchen table

Got it. Gentle heat then. (I adjust the stove's air intake to reduce flame)

Turn down heat under pot, check limpets are just wilting not boiling, add to simmering water

(softly) The shrine's clear tonight. Tide ran clean under the new line.

Set pot to gentle simmer, reach for my own notebook to check the shrine coordinates, then set it aside when she shifts position again

I've got the ibuprofen in the kit. One dose left.

Ladle broth into two tin mugs, carry one to her carefully, set mine on porch table

Your call.

Sit on porch step with my mug, blow steam off the broth, watch the tide line creep up the beach

The barometer's steady at 1033. Should hold through the next spring tide.

Check radio frequency, tune to 2182 MHz maritime band, listen for any crackle of voice from the mainland