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Day 886

Damping-Off and a Coming Storm

Dawn found Jenny on the stone wall, ankle in warm saline, while Kevin checked the tank — three-nine-one, not dropping. She sent him to the pepper cells; damping-off fuzz had spread to the third pepper cell and two lettuce cells at the soil line. He bagged and burned the infected seedlings, then checked the spruce rounds — still too damp to split. Jenny re-wrapped her ankle and limped back to oversee replanting.

Dawn found Jenny on the stone wall, ankle in warm saline, while Kevin checked the tank — three-nine-one, not dropping. She sent him to the pepper cells; damping-off fuzz had spread to the third pepper cell and two lettuce cells at the soil line. He bagged and burned the infected seedlings, then checked the spruce rounds — still too damp to split. Jenny re-wrapped her ankle and limped back to oversee replanting.

At the dock, the Yanmar idled with its new diaphragm. Jenny tested the throttle; it ran clean, no vibration under load. She took the boat out to the mooring buoy and back, a full circle in rising tide and building swell. Kevin watched from the dock: clean, no shake at the transom.

Heavy drops hit the planks, smelling of hot dust. They moved gear toward the cottage as the barometer fell. Kevin cleared silt from the overflow flap valve — fouled half open, not epoxy failure — and the tank stabilized. Jenny secured heirloom seeds in the oiled tin on the stove shelf, then retreated to the cottage.

Wind shifted south. Kevin shut the door against rising wind, put the kettle on, and went by lantern light to check the seed trays. A mature spruce had fallen across the garden path, damaging shade cloth anchors and blocking access. Four more lettuce and two pepper cells showed fungal fuzz. Jenny stayed inside with her swollen ankle, drinking broth and monitoring seedlings from the porch. The supply boat was due in eight days at high tide.

Scenes

the garden · dawn

Morning Humidity and Preparation

Jenny sits on the stone wall with her ankle submerged in a basin of warm saline while Kevin checks the water tank level. A light onshore breeze barely moves the heavy air as the humidity settles over the heirloom garden.

Kevin bagged and burned the infected pepper and lettuce seedlings, then checked the spruce rounds but found them still too damp to split. Jenny inspected the seed trays and confirmed damping-off spreading in one pepper cell and two lettuce cells, then re-wrapped her ankle and limped back to the trays to oversee replanting.

🌿 Jenny03:11

Is the tank actually dropping, or are you just looking for something to worry about?

Lean back against the wall and gingerly wiggle my toes in the warm salt water.

💭 thought
My ankle is pulsing in time with my heart. I can't stand the sight of those weeds choking the tomatoes.
🔧 Kevin03:11

Same as dawn. Three-nine-one. Not dropping.

wipe the condensation from the tank gauge with my thumb and walk back toward the garden wall, mug in hand

💭 thought
She caught me checking the tank for the third time this hour. Water's at 391 litres — same as dawn. Not dropping. Just the habit of watching levels when the supply boat's eight days out and the barometer's steady but the air feels heavy with something coming.
🌿 Jenny03:12

Good. Then stop hovering and look at the pepper cells. I think the damping-off is spreading.

Lift my ankle slowly from the basin and stare at the seedlings.

💭 thought
He's too cautious. We have plenty of water; it's the soil that's the problem.
🔧 Kevin03:12

On it.

set the mug on the wall cap and crouch beside the seed trays, peering at the pepper rows

💭 thought
She's right. The pepper cells were clean yesterday. Damping-off moves fast in this humidity. Need to check the trays and bag anything showing fuzz before it jumps to the tomatoes.
🌿 Jenny03:15

The fuzz is getting worse. That pepper cell third from the left—it's got the telltale cottony growth at the soil line.

Point toward the affected tray and add, "Bake those packets. I'll bury the rest of the seed in fresh soil with charcoal."

💭 thought
He's actually looking at them properly now. Maybe this visit won't be entirely useless.
🔧 Kevin03:15

Got it. Packets first, then replant the clean ones.

pull the newspaper bags from my pocket, bag the infected pepper cell and the two lettuce cells showing fuzz, then carry them to the fire pit

💭 thought
Third from left. Cottony fuzz at the soil line — classic damping-off. She wants the packets baked and the survivors replanted in charcoal-amended soil. Right call. The humidity's been brutal on seedlings.
🌿 Jenny03:16

Thanks. While you're at the pit, see if any of those spruce rounds have dried enough to split.

Carefully wrap the ankle in clean gauze and pull myself up from the wall using the stone for leverage.

💭 thought
He's efficient when he's not overthinking the cistern. I need to move while the saline has loosened the joint.
🔧 Kevin03:16

Will check.

drop the bagged seedlings in the fire pit, light them, then walk to the garden path and test the spruce rounds with the axe blade

💭 thought
Spruce rounds have been sitting on the garden path three days now. Might be dry enough to split for kindling if the sun got to them. She's moving on the ankle — good sign the poultice is holding.
🌿 Jenny03:18

Don't spend all morning on the wood, Kevin. The humidity is climbing.

Limp slowly toward the seed trays, leaning heavily on the wall for support.

💭 thought
I can't just sit here. If I can get to the trays now, I can save the remaining peppers before the fungus jumps.
🔧 Kevin03:18

Wood later.

leave the axe by the rounds and follow her to the seed trays, crouching to lift the healthy pepper seedlings for replanting

💭 thought
She's right. Humidity's climbing — can feel it in the air, taste salt on my lips. Wood can wait. Seedlings can't. She's hobbling to the trays to replant the clean peppers in charcoal soil before the damping-off takes more.

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the garden · morning

Yanmar load test and garden tarp check

Kevin stands by the dinghy at the dock with the Yanmar idling, prop shaft sleeved and torqued. Jenny limps down the path from the garden, carrying a mug of limpet broth and the seed tray map. The tide is still low, onshore breeze steady, barometer holding at 1013 hPa.

Jenny tests the Yanmar engine's responsiveness, confirming the new diaphragm has fixed the sticky throttle issue. Kevin watches from the dock as the engine hums into a steady rhythm, noting the lack of vibration even under load.

🔧 Kevin03:21

Engine's warm. You want the first run or shall I?

lean against the gunwale, arms crossed, watching the tell-tale spit steady water

💭 thought
She's moving better than yesterday. Ankle's holding. Good. Engine note sounds clean at idle — no vibration through the mounts. Let the oil pressure come up proper before I put load on it.
🌿 Jenny03:22

I'll take it. Give me a minute to get my balance.

Limp toward the gunwale and carefully set the mug of broth and the seed map on the dock plank.

💭 thought
He sounds almost proud of it. I can't even walk ten feet without my ankle screaming, but I can certainly steer.
🔧 Kevin03:22

Take your time. Throttle's sticky off idle — ease it past the detent. Kill cord's on the bracket.

step back onto the dock planking, hands in pockets, weight off the bad knee

💭 thought
She's stubborn. Won't let me help. But she's steady enough on that cane.
🌿 Jenny03:25

I've got it. Just don't let me drift into the pilings while I'm finding the sweet spot.

Carefully hoist myself into the dinghy, favoring the good leg, and reach for the kill cord.

💭 thought
Sticky throttle. Typical. Just one more thing that doesn't quite do what it's told.
🔧 Kevin03:25

Bow line's got slack for the swell. Stern spring's doubled. You're not going anywhere I don't want you.

untie the bow line from the cleat, coil it neat, toss the bitter end into the boat, then step back with the stern spring still in hand

💭 thought
She's got the touch. Always did with engines. Just needs the leg to hold her weight when the prop bites.
🌿 Jenny03:27

I know, Kevin. way watch the tide.

Reach for the throttle, feeling the resistance as the Yanmar catches.

💭 thought
He thinks he's keeping me safe. He's just keeping me tethered.
🔧 Kevin03:27

Kevin — feed the stern spring out slow, keeping tension, watching the prop wash flatten astern

💭 thought
There it is. Clean pickup. No smoke. She's feathering it — good. Let her find the rhythm.
🌿 Jenny03:29

Jenny — slowly push the throttle forward past the sticky point until the engine hums into a steady rhythm.

💭 thought
If this engine holds, maybe I can actually get to the north ridge without the boat killing me first.
🔧 Kevin03:29

Sounds clean. Take her out to the mooring buoy and back. Full circle. Watch the tell-tale.

secure the stern spring to the midships cleat, coil the slack, turn toward the cottage path

💭 thought
Steady at twelve hundred. No vibration through the waterline. The sleeve held. Good work.
🌿 Jenny03:30

I'll be back in ten. Don't let my broth get cold!

Shift the gear into forward and steer the dinghy away from the dock toward the mooring buoy.

💭 thought
He's already leaving. He doesn't even want to see if it actually works under load.

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the dock · midday

The first run

Jenny steers the boat out to the mooring buoy and back for a full circle test. The tide is rising, and the swell is building.

The humidity is a heavy weight over the dock as the flat sky darkens with incoming rain clouds. The tide is rising steadily, lapping at the lower dock pilings while Kevin checks the Yanmar's new sleeve fit and Jenny sits on a crate, her ankle swollen and throbbing in the damp heat.

🌿 Jenny03:31

She's holding!

Cut the throttle and steer the dinghy back toward the dock, fighting the rising tide to bring her in parallel to the jetty.

💭 thought
The vibration is still there, just a ghost of it. But she's responding. The swell is getting heavier—I can feel it in the bow.
🔧 Kevin03:32

Clean. No shake at the transom. Bring her in slow, let the tide do the work.

Step to the seaward cleat with the bow line ready, watching the fenders kiss the greenheart planking as she eases alongside.

💭 thought
Engine's holding clean at idle and load. No vibration at 2200 RPM. She's got the touch — steady hands on the tiller, reading the tide push against the pilings. Good.
🌿 Jenny03:33

I've got it.

Shift the engine to neutral and hop onto the dock, wincing as my ankle hits the wood, to secure the bow line.

💭 thought
He's always so confident with the mechanics, like the salt never wins. My ankle is throbbing with every wave.
🔧 Kevin03:34

Take the stern. I've got the bow.

Catch the bow line she tosses, wrap it twice around the cleat and cinch a hitch with one hand while the other steadies the gunwale against the rising chop.

💭 thought
She's favouring it bad. The wince she can't hide. Ankle's swollen past the brace line again. Salt and humidity eating the healing.
🌿 Jenny03:35

Fasten the mooring lines—I need to check the dinghy's seacocks before the spray hits the windows.

Limp toward the engine compartment of the cottage, favoring my good leg, to inspect the raw water intake fitting while Kevin handles the stern line.

💭 thought
The water's coming up faster than I thought. The barometer's dropping and the swell is already hitting the jetty.
🔧 Kevin03:36

Jen. The seacocks are on the dinghy. Transom. I'll run the flush when lines are fast. You sit.

Drop the stern spring over the mooring ring, double it back to the cleat, pull tight and cleat it off. Then step aboard the dinghy, lift the engine hatch, and check the raw water strainer bowl for weed and grit.

💭 thought
She's calling the cottage engine compartment the dinghy's seacocks. Head's not right — pain or fever or both. The Yanmar's raw water intake is on the dinghy, transom-mounted. She's walking the wrong way.
🌿 Jenny03:37

He's right. I should sit this one out.

Lower myself onto the dock's edge with Kevin's help, leaning against the new sister plank while watching him work the flush system, then reach for the water test kit to check if my treatment is holding.

💭 thought
Of course the seacocks are on the dinghy transom. He's already ahead of me, checking the strainer bowl for debris. My ankle throbs with every step I should have taken an hour ago.
🔧 Kevin03:38

Flush first. Test kit after. Tank's at four hundred, strips were clean yesterday.

Hook the flush muffs over the raw water intake, turn the seawater seacock, pull the starter cord — engine catches first pull, tell-tale arcs strong and clear. Let it run three minutes, watching the exhaust water for cloudiness.

💭 thought
Good. She listened. The test kit can wait — water's been clean, tank's full. What matters is she's off her feet and the flush runs clean.
🌿 Jenny03:38

It sounds healthy.

Lean back against the piling, closing my eyes for a moment to breathe in the salt air and the smell of diesel, waiting for the engine to cut.

💭 thought
He's in his element. The noise of the Yanmar is the only thing that drowns out the sound of the tide coming in. I just want to be off my feet.
🔧 Kevin03:40

Sounds clean. No knock, no miss. Tell-tale's strong.

Kill the ignition, close the seacock, pull the muffs free. Wipe the tell-tale spray off the transom with a rag. Step onto the dock and offer a hand up.

💭 thought
She's tired deep. The kind that sits in the bones. Ankle's throbbing, fever maybe, and she's still tracking the engine note like it's her job. It's not her job. It's mine.

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the dock · afternoon

Preparing for the Rain

The first heavy drops of rain begin to hit the dock planks, smelling of hot dust. Kevin and Jenny move the gear toward the cottage as the storm gathers.

Kevin clears the silt from the overflow channel flap valve, finally allowing the water level to stop dropping rapidly. Jenny secures the heirloom seeds in the oiled tin and retreats to the cottage to rest her swollen ankle as the wind shifts to the south. The air pressure continues to drop, signaling an approaching storm.

🌿 Jenny03:41

The dock's taking water faster than the tank's losing it - we need to move everything inside.

rush toward cottage with generator, radio, and seed tins while Kevin heaves the dinghy gear over the pilings

💭 thought
The rain smells like it's coming from the desert, not the ocean - that's the dust from the dry creek beds blowing inland. My ankle's already sweating through the poultice.
🔧 Kevin03:42

Go. I've got the Yanmar and the dinghy lines.

haul the Yanmar and fuel can up the dock to the cottage porch, then double the dinghy bow and stern springs to the mooring ring and north piling with the heavy weather line

💭 thought
Sky's opening up proper now. Jenny's right — generator and radio first, seed tins can't get wet. I'll secure the dinghy and engine, then get the anchor warp in before the swell builds.
🌿 Jenny03:43

Salt line's holding," I call back, then glance at the seed tins. "The brass one - it's sweating.

check water tank level through the crack in the mortar bed, noting it's dropping faster than expected while rainwater drums show no leaks yet.

💭 thought
Good - he's handling the boat, but I can hear the generator straining against the wind already. That raw water pump's going to cavitate if the inlet's picking up debris now.
🔧 Kevin03:44

Brass tin in the oilskin wrap on the stove shelf — get it there. I'll check the tank feed line once the gear's stowed.

finish securing the dinghy warp to the north piling cleat, then jog up the dock with the fuel can and engine cover, stacking them on the porch beside the generator

💭 thought
Brass tin sweating means condensation — temperature differential. If the seal's compromised, humidity gets to the seeds. Need to check it once we're under cover. Tank dropping fast with no drum leaks means the foundation crack's taking it, or the overflow channel's running backwards in this pressure.
🌿 Jenny03:45

The tank's feeding through the west crack again - check the overflow channel while I tend to the seeds.

carry the heirloom seed tin toward the cottage stove, slipping on the wet dock plank and catching myself on the railing, then pull the oilskin-wrapped tin from the shelf to dry it against the cast iron stove.

💭 thought
The brass tin's already warm from the heat lamp I rigged in there - grandmother's seeds might actually survive this humidity if I can get them dry enough. But the tank's feed line... if that crack's widening, we could lose everything by morning.
🔧 Kevin03:46

On it. Shout if the tin's got water inside.

duck into the cottage, grab the headlamp and the small wrench, then head out the back door to the tank's west side where the overflow channel runs — drop to knees in the mud and feel along the epoxy patch for active seepage, then trace the

💭 thought
West crack's the one we epoxy-patched last month. If it's weeping again the hydraulic pressure's found a new path. Overflow channel should be taking the excess but if the tide's high enough it'll backflow. Need to check the flap valve and the copper spillway hose.
🌿 Jenny03:47

The tin is dry!" I yell over the rising roar of the wind. "But the tank's weeping, Kevin!"

open the oilskin on the brass tin, checking the heirloom seeds for any moisture, then lay them on the dry notebook near the stove.

💭 thought
The rain is finally starting, a heavy curtain that smells like salt and dust. My ankle is throbbing with every movement, but the seeds have to stay dry. If the tin holds just long enough for Kevin to find the leak...
🔧 Kevin03:48

Checking the flap valve now. If it's fouled I'll clear it. If the epoxy's blown I'll pack it with oakum and tar from the crate stores.

crawl along the tank's west foundation in the driving rain, headlamp beam cutting through the sheet — locate the copper spillway outlet where it exits the mortar bed, feel for the flap valve hinge and test if it swings free, then scrape sil

💭 thought
Tin's dry — good. Seeds safe. Tank weeping at the west crack means the epoxy didn't hold under sustained head. Overflow channel's copper spillway should divert but the flap valve might be fouled with silt from the last storm. If the tank loses pressure we lose the only gravity feed.
🌿 Jenny03:49

The water's dropping fast, Kevin! Check the seal on the outlet!

spread the seeds across the notebook, my fingers shaking from the cold and the pain, then watch the window for his movement.

💭 thought
The rain is coming down in sheets now, drumming on the roof like a warning. If that valve doesn't clear, the water will back up and ruin the whole foundation. I can see the light of his lamp flickering in the dark.
🔧 Kevin03:50

Flap valve fouled — silted half open. Clearing it. Tank should stabilise.

dig the silt plug out of the copper spillway mouth with fingers and the wrench tip, work the flap hinge until it snaps shut clean, then press the epoxy patch on the mortar bed to test if the weep slows

💭 thought
Outlet seal's the brass foot valve at the tank bottom — if that's gone the whole column drains back through the pump. But she's at the window, can't see the tank base. She means the overflow outlet seal where the copper pipe penetrates the mortar. That's what I'm at. Flap valve's stuck half-open with a gob of grey silt. Clearing it now.
🌿 Jenny03:50

Good! Get inside before you freeze—the wind's shifting south!

carefully slide the heirloom seeds back into the brass tin and seal it with the oilskin, then limp toward the sofa and prop my swollen ankle up on a stack of canvas rolls.

💭 thought
Thank god. If the foundation softens any more, the whole east wall will lean. Now I just need to get this ankle elevated before the fever spikes again.
🔧 Kevin03:52

Coming.

push up from the mud, wrench in belt, headlamp swinging — jog the ten metres to the cottage door, kick boots off on the mat, shrug out of the soaked oilskin and hang it on the peg, then cross to the stove and lay a fresh split of spruce kin

💭 thought
Flap's seating. Weep's slowing to a seep. Tank'll hold. South wind means the swell'll wrap round the point and hit the dock broadside — dinghy lines'll take a beating. Need to get in, strip wet gear, check the yanmar's still breathing after the rain. Jenny's ankle's bad. She needs the heat.

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the old shrine · evening

The storm breaks

Kevin heads for the cottage as the first heavy drops of rain begin to fall.

Kevin and Jenny met at the old shrine as the pressure drops and the evening breeze cools. Kevin tested the Yanmar engine with the new sleeve while Jenny struggled to focus on securing the garden against the coming storm.

🌿 Jenny03:53

Close the door tight, Kevin! Check the much twice!

Jenny sits on the kitchen chair and winces as she shifts weight off her throbbing ankle.

💭 thought
The pressure is dropping too fast; that storm is going to hit before the boat even arrives.
🔧 Kevin03:54

Door's shut. Shutters next. You stay put.

close the cottage door firmly, engage the latch, then move to the east shutter to dog it down tight

💭 thought
Rain's hitting hard now. Barometer's still falling. Need to secure the cottage proper — shutters, door, check the roof tarp battening. She's hurting bad and I'm not leaving her side tonight.
🌿 Jenny03:54

I'm not a porcelain doll.

Jenny reaches for her notebook and begins a quick, jagged sketch of the storm clouds rolling over the ridge.

💭 thought
He thinks he's protecting me, but I can't stand being a passenger in my own house.
🔧 Kevin03:56

Didn't say you were. Said stay put cause the ankle won't take your weight if the floor shifts.

dog down the east shutter bolts, check the seal, then move to the west shutter

💭 thought
Stubborn as the Yanmar's old injectors. Good. Means she's still fighting.
🌿 Jenny03:57

I know how my body works.

Jenny stops sketching and stares at her swollen ankle, the sea beet poultice still cooling the skin.

💭 thought
He's right about the weight, but I hate being the reason we can't move.
🔧 Kevin03:58

Good. Then you know why you're in the chair.

finish dogging the west shutter, test the seal with a palm against the frame, then check the porch door

💭 thought
She does. Better than me. Been watching her manage that ankle for weeks — knows every degree of heat, every shift in the swelling. My job's the cottage. Her job's her body. We don't cross lines unless one of us can't hold ours.
🌿 Jenny03:59

Check the latch again. Please.

Jenny leans back, closing her eyes and listening to the rain start lashing against the roof.

💭 thought
The wind is picking up; if that door gives way, the whole kitchen is gone.
🔧 Kevin04:00

Checking.

go back to the cottage door, pull the latch hard to test the catch, lean into it with a shoulder to make sure the frame hasn't shifted

💭 thought
She heard something in the wind I didn't. Or she's testing me. Either way — check it.
🌿 Jenny04:01

Is it holding? For now?

Jenny pulls her leg up onto the chair, wincing as the movement in her ankle matches the rhythm of the rain.

💭 thought
The wind is screaming through the gaps now. I hope the old wood holds.
🔧 Kevin04:02

Holding. Hinges are through-bolted. Frame's true. It'll hold.

step back from the door, wipe rain off my face, move to the kitchen table to check the roof tarp battening from inside — look for any sag or water tracking down the walls

💭 thought
Frame's solid. Latch bites deep. Door's not going anywhere unless the hinges sheer off — and they're through-bolted.
🌿 Jenny04:03

Check the corners. Over the table specifically.

Jenny leans forward, eyes fixed on the ceiling, watching for the first dark circle of moisture.

💭 thought
If the roof leaks, the seeds are ruined. I can't lose them again.
🔧 Kevin04:04

On it.

climb onto a chair at the kitchen table, press my palm flat against the ceiling corner, feel for damp or cool spots, trace the seam where the flashing meets the roofline

💭 thought
She's seen a stain before. Or she's tracking the leak path from the last storm. Corner over the table — that's the northeast flashing junction. Lead work I did held last time, but wind's driving rain horizontal now.

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the keeper's cottage · night

Preparing for the Night

The two of you return to the cottage as the first drops of rain hit the dry dust.

Kevin shut the cottage door against rising wind and put the kettle on while Jenny recorded the falling barometer. He went to check the heirloom seed trays by lantern light and found a fallen spruce blocking the garden path. Jenny stayed inside with her swollen ankle, drinking broth and monitoring the seedlings from the porch.

🌿 Jenny04:05

Close the door, Kevin. The wind is picking up.

Sit on the kitchen chair and lift my swollen ankle onto the table.

💭 thought
My own is throbbing and the humidity is going to ruin the seed trays before I can even get the pH right.
🔧 Kevin04:06

Door's shut. Kettle on?

close the cottage door against the rising wind, then move to the wood stove to check the kettle and add a stick of kindling

💭 thought
The rain smells different tonight — heavier, salt-laden. Barometer's drop is real. She's favouring the ankle bad.
🌿 Jenny04:07

Yes, and I need to check the trays again before the roof leaks.

Reach for the notebook and a pencil to record the pressure drop.

💭 thought
If the boat doesn't come in eight days, I'll be out of clean gauze.
🔧 Kevin04:08

Kettle first. Trays aren't going anywhere. Sit still.

fill the kettle from the tank tap and set it on the stove top, then pull out the second chair and sit opposite her, watching the ankle

💭 thought
She's pushing through the pain. Always does. The trays can wait five minutes while the water boils.
🌿 Jenny04:09

Fine. But if I see more mold on those seedlings, I'm moving them.

Lean back and close my eyes, trying to ignore the pulse in my ankle.

💭 thought
He thinks he can fix everything just by giving orders, but the damp rot is already in the air.
🔧 Kevin04:10

I'll check them. You drink the broth.

rise and move to the porch door, listening to the rain before stepping out to the garden beds

💭 thought
The pulse in her ankle matches the barometer's drop. Both rising. She won't sleep until the trays are checked.
🌿 Jenny04:11

Don't stay out too long, the wind is turning.

Reach for the mug of broth and listen to the rain hitting the stone walls.

💭 thought
He's going to get soaked in that humidity; the ground is already slick.
🔧 Kevin04:12

Won't.

step onto the porch and move along the garden path to the seed trays, crouching to lift the tarp edge and inspect the seedlings by the porch lantern light

💭 thought
Wind's backing southwest. She heard it too. The trays are under the spare tarp battened with timber strips — should hold unless a gust gets under the edge.

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What changed

The season has turned wet.
season · dawn
3 intentions for today.
plan · dawn
×2
damping-off fungal fuzz confirmed spreading to pepper cell third from left and two lettuce cells at soil line
discovery · dawn
The rain tank gained about 25 litres.
weather · dawn
Found: New diaphragm.
item · morning
Kevin and Jenny ate.
meal · morning
The flap valve was fouled by silt, not a structural epoxy failure.
discovery · afternoon
Jenny made a sketch: "The storm clouds rolling over the ridge".
made · evening
Jenny made a sketch: "Nd stares at her swollen ankle, the sea beet poultice still cooling the skin".
made · evening
Supply boat is due in 8 days at high tide.
discovery · evening
Kevin and Jenny ate.
meal · evening
A tree has come down across the path in the wind.
tree_down · night
mature spruce has fallen across garden path, damaging shade cloth anchors and blocking access
discovery · night
additional damping-off in seed trays: 4 lettuce and 2 pepper cells showing fungal fuzz
discovery · night

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

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