Day 925

Greenheart Sister and Rising Tide

Dawn found Kevin on the dock checking the green crate manifest against the Yanmar's heavy housing. Salt crust lined the bolt holes. "I'll wire-brush them clean before the new gasket goes on. Coffee's coming up," he said. Jenny sat on a crate, ankle throbbing, sorting supplies from the blue food crate. "Don't forget the wire brush on the threads; the salt eats deep into the iron."

The tide peaked and held. Kevin cut a greenheart scarf joint for the north piling sister, retrieving the last 150mm stainless through-bolt from the east shutter. "Last bolt's at the east shutter. One shot." Jenny sketched water swirling around rotten planks, noting the barometer at 1028 hPa. "Tighten it to thirty-five Newton-meters, just like the other joints."

Midday heat clung heavy as the tide fell, exposing the north piling's algae-slick base. Kevin secured the greenheart sister, the torque wrench clicking on the final bolt. Jenny worked the garden, soil pH at 5.6 near the wall — too acidic for heirlooms without lime. She sketched sea beet morphology and the rot pattern on the wood.

At low tide Kevin augered the pilings, mapping rot concentrated 0.5 metres above the mudline. "Rot line's at 1.1 metres. Forty centimetres of sound wood above the sister top. We need a scarf joint and a greenheart pile section — three metres minimum." Jenny recorded the sound-wood line. "Three metres should be enough if we cut the scarf right. We can't afford another slip."

Evening brought 29°C humidity and cicadas. They ate limpets and corned beef broth in the cottage. "The limpets were a bit tough today, but the salt helps," Jenny said. Kevin mentioned the supply boat in nine days. "Radio check at dusk. Captain said he'd raise us on 2182 if the window holds." Jenny's ankle still throbbed despite the salt soak.

Scenes

the dock · dawn

Post-Delivery Inventory

Kevin sits on the edge of the dock, checking the green crate manifest against the Yanmar impeller. Jenny sits on a nearby crate, rubbing her throbbing ankle while she begins to sort the new supplies from the blue food crate.

Kevin brought the tools and the disassembled Yanmar heavily housing to the dinghy to inspect for salt buildup in the bolts. Jenny watched from the porch, nursing her swollen ankle while the tide began to rise against the dock pilings.

🔧 Kevin09:15

Impeller's accounted for. You want coffee before I crack the Yanmar open?

Walk to the green crate, lift the lid, and pull out the sealed Yanmar raw water impeller package.

💭 thought

Good. The impeller's in the green crate, sealed in original packaging. One less thing to worry about. Now I need to install it and run the Yanmar at load before the next swell builds. Jenny's ankle — she's favouring it, not putting full weight. The red streaks haven't crossed the pen line I marked at 0600. That's something. But the swelling's up over the malleolus now. Next doxy dose in two hours. Need to change the poultice again before then.

🌿 Jenny09:17

Coffee is fine. Just check for salt buildup on the housing before you pull the bolts.

Wince as I shift my weight, then pull my notebook out to sketch the jagged edge of a sea much leaf near the tide line.

💭 thought

I'm starving enough to eat my own sketches, and this ankle is pulsing like a second heart.

🔧 Kevin09:17

Salt crust on the bolt holes. I'll wire-brush them clean before the new gasket goes on. Coffee's coming up.

Walk to the cottage, set the impeller package on the workbench, and put the kettle on the stove.

💭 thought

Salt buildup on the housing. Right. She's sharp even through the pain. The old housing had crust at the bolt holes — if the new impeller seats wrong because of it, we're back to square one. Coffee first. Kettle's on the stove.

🌿 Jenny09:19

Don't forget the wire brush on the threads; the salt eats deep into the iron.

Rub the swollen skin of my ankle and watch the tide rise against the dock pilings.

💭 thought

If he doesn't get those threads clean, the vibration will shear the bolts in a week.

🔧 Kevin09:19

Wire brush, tap set, helicoil kit — all staged. Be back in five.

Pour two tin mugs of coffee, set one on the porch rail for Jenny, and carry the other to the workshop.

💭 thought

She's right. The threads on the housing bolts were eaten half away last time. Wire brush first, then chase them with the tap if they'll take it. If not, helicoil or drill and tap oversize. Got the kit in the workshop. Coffee'll be ready by the time I'm back.

🌿 Jenny09:21

Thanks. Come back.

Reach for the mug, wrapping both hands around the warm tin, and take a long, shaky sip while watching the water.

💭 thought

At least he's organized, even if the hunger is making me hallucinate.

🔧 Kevin09:21

Not going far.

Drink the coffee in three swallows, set the mug down, grab the wire brush, tap set, and helicoil kit from the workshop shelf, and walk back to the dinghy where the Yanmar's mounted.

💭 thought

Shaky hands. She's hiding how much it hurts. The mug's warm — good. Caffeine and heat. I'll drink mine fast and get the Yanmar apart. Impeller change, wire brush the bolt holes, chase threads, new gasket, torque to spec, run at load. Two hours max if the housing's clean. Then check her ankle again. Change poultice. Next doxy.

🌿 Jenny09:23

Be careful with the housing, the metal is brittle.

Lean back against the cottage wall, clutching the mug, and try to watch him work on the engine.

💭 thought

I need to check that ankle again, but the pain is too sharp to move.

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the dock · morning

Morning of the tide

The tide has reached its peak and stays high as Kevin prepares the cleaned parts for the next step.

Kevin cut a greenheart scarf joint for the north piling sister and retrieved the last 150mm stainless through-bolt from the east shutter, dry-fitting it at the workbench. Jenny sketched the high-tide water patterns around the rotting dock planks and noted the steady 1028 hPa barometer reading alongside garden soil observations.

🔧 Kevin09:23

Kevin — walk back to the cottage workshop with the cleaned Yanmar housing bolts and housing, set them on the bench, check the helicoil kit inventory and the bronze bar stock dimensions

💭 thought

High tide buys me time on the dock but eats it on the engine. The Yanmar housing bolts are clean enough to assess — two stripped, one missing. Need to decide: helicoil the stripped holes and tap the third oversize, or drill and tap all three for 12mm studs. The 12mm tap is snapped in the drill chuck back at the cottage. That leaves helicoils if I have the kit, or machining new bronze inserts. Bronze bar stock's on the bench. Could turn inserts on the lathe attachment if the generator's running steady.

🌿 Jenny09:25

The tide is going to stay high for a while, now.

pull the notebook from my pocket and start sketching the way the water is swirling around the rotten dock planks.

💭 thought

He's so methodical with the metal, but the salt is already eating the threads just like it's eating me.

🔧 Kevin09:26

Take your time. I'll cut the greenheart to length for the north piling sister while the water's up.

walk to the timber stack under the eaves, select a straight-grain greenheart core, measure and mark the scarf joint length against the north piling's exposed rot line, carry it to the workbench and begin cutting with the bow saw

💭 thought

She's recording the rot pattern again. Good. The notebook's better memory than mine for the way water moves through this structure. High tide holding means I can't get at the north piling scarf joint until the ebb — but I can prep the greenheart sister plank and the 150mm through-bolt for when the mudline shows. The Yanmar housing decision can wait an hour. She needs the pen more than I do right now.

🌿 Jenny09:27

Be careful with the grain, the rot goes in deeper than it looks.

rub my ankle through the gauze, watching the salt spray catch on the wood.

💭 thought

If he can fix the dock, maybe the boat will actually stay another year, but the wood is so soft here.

🔧 Kevin09:27

Following the spiral. Waste not, want not.

adjust the saw angle to track the greenheart's interlocking grain, cut the scarf face slow and clean, blow sawdust from the joint surface and check the fit against the piling's chalk-marked rot line

💭 thought

She's seen the probe depths same as me. Forty centimetres up from the mudline, fifteen millimetres soft. The rot doesn't care about grain direction — it follows the tide. But she's right about the greenheart: if I cut across the interlocking grain wrong, the sister won't take the compressive load when the next spring tide slams the dock. Need to follow the spiral, even if it wastes length.

🌿 Jenny09:29

A little marine epoxy on the ten-millimeter bolts and we'll have the north piling standing another decade.

check the barometer reading, 1028 hPa and steady, and make a quick note in the margin of the garden pH log about soil conditions near the repaired dock.

💭 thought

The scarf joint has to be perfect or the salt will find the weakness again.

🔧 Kevin09:29

Last bolt's at the east shutter. One shot.

walk to the east shutter, retrieve the 150mm stainless through-bolt with washers and nyloc nut, carry it back to the workbench beside the cut greenheart sister, dry-fit the bolt through the sister's pre-drilled hole and check alignment agai

💭 thought

Epoxy in the bolt holes buys time, but the piling's heart is gone. The sister carries the load now — greenheart to greenheart, through-bolted, epoxy bedded. Ten millimetres is what we have. The last 150mm stainless through-bolt went into the second sister plate. Only the one staged at the east shutter remains. Need to make it count. Barometer holding at 1028 means the ebb will come clean, no surge. Good window for the scarf joint.

🌿 Jenny09:31

Tighten it to thirty-five Newton-meters, just like the other joints.

flip open the notebook and sketch the alignment marks where the through-bolt meets the greenheart, then close it and tuck it back in my pocket.

💭 thought

The east shutter's been rattling in the wind - wonder if Kevin's last bolt will hold the salt corrosion at bay.

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the keeper's cottage · midday

Midday work at cottage and garden

Kevin is at the keeper's cottage workshop with the cut greenheart sister and final through-bolt staged for low-tide installation; Jenny is at the garden checking soil pH near the wall and sketching sea beet morphology.

The tide recedes, exposing the slick, algae-covered base of the north piling. Kevin finishes securing the greenheart sister to the dock, the torque wrench clicking as the final bolt is tightened. Jenny works in the garden, the heavy humidity clinging to her skin as she prepares to treat the persistent wound on her ankle.

🌿 Jenny09:35

Jenny — use the soil auger to take a sample near the garden wall.

💭 thought

The soil is still too acidic; if the pH doesn't shift, grandmother's seeds will rot before they even sprout.

🔧 Kevin09:36

Kevin — wait at the workbench, watching the water fall against the dock planks

💭 thought

The tide needs to drop another foot before I can reach the north piling's rot line. Good. Gives the epoxy on the scarf face time to breathe. Bolt's the last one — no room for error on the threads.

🌿 Jenny09:39

Jenny — dip a pH strip into the saline water and wait for the color change.

💭 thought

5.5 is too low. I need more lime, but I can't just waste the supply away.

🔧 Kevin09:40

Kevin — walk down to the dock with the greenheart sister, 150mm bolt, mallet, and torque wrench

💭 thought

Water's down far enough. The rot line on the north piling shows clean now — twelve inches of blackened core above the mudline, just like I logged. Greenheart sister fits the scarf. One bolt, one chance.

🌿 Jenny09:43

Come on, just work.

Match the color on the strip to the chart and note the reading in the notebook.

💭 thought

It's a 5.8. Still not right for the heirloom, but maybe better than the patch from yesterday.

🔧 Kevin09:44

Kevin — position the greenheart sister against the north piling's scarf face, drive it tight with the mallet, insert the 150mm stainless through-bolt with washers and nyloc nut, torque to 35Nm

💭 thought

Mud's firm under the boots. Piling doesn't shift when I lean into it. Driftwood braces held the alignment — Jenny's wedging was true. Now drive the sister home and bolt it before the flood turns.

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the keeper's cottage · afternoon

Low Tide Inspections

The tide is at its lowest, revealing the mudline around the north piling and the extent of the rot.

Kevin spent the low tide inspecting the dock pilings with the auger to map the extent of the rot. Jenny focused on tending to her ankle and documenting the local flora and soil chemistry near the garden wall.

🌿 Jenny09:47

We're going to need more than just one sister, Kevin.

stand up slowly and walk to the edge of the dock to peer down at the waterline.

💭 thought

The rot goes deeper than it looked from the surface; the salt is eating the wood whole.

🔧 Kevin09:47

Auger's in the skiff. I'll check above the mudline while it's exposed.

walk to the dinghy, retrieve the soil auger, and probe the north piling at six-inch intervals above the mudline to map the rot depth

💭 thought

She's right. The rot goes higher than the sister reaches. Need to probe the full extent before the tide turns.

🌿 Jenny09:49

Watch for the soft spots. It looks honeyed out from the inside.

lean against the porch post to take the weight off my ankle while I watch him.

💭 thought

If the wood is that soft, the whole garden wall might go in the next big surge.

🔧 Kevin09:49

Marking the sound wood line with chalk. You hold the radio if I need to call it in.

probe the piling systematically with the auger at 150mm intervals upward from the mudline, marking each sound/rotten transition with chalk on the piling face

💭 thought

Honeyed out — she's seen the same rot pattern I have. The auger will tell us how far up the sound wood starts.

🌿 Jenny09:51

We don't need the radio yet. Just tell me how much solid wood is actually left.

pull my notebook from my back pocket and start sketching the pattern of the rot marks on the wood.

💭 thought

The chalk marks look like a timeline of how long this island has been eating the cottage.

🔧 Kevin09:53

Rot line's at 1.1 metres. Forty centimetres of sound wood above the sister top. We need a scarf joint and a greenheart pile section — three metres minimum.

call out each measurement as the auger hits sound wood, then climb down the piling ladder to inspect the scarf face at water level

💭 thought

Sound wood starts at 1.1 metres above mudline. That's forty centimetres above where the sister brace ends. Need a scarf joint and a new pile section, not just another sister.

🌿 Jenny09:53

Three metres should be enough if we cut the scarf right. We can't afford another slip.

mark the measurement in my notebook next to the sketch of the sea beet.

💭 thought

Forty way? That's barely enough to hold the weight of the garden wall.

🔧 Kevin09:55

Eight-foot core at the winch. I'll cut the piling scarf at low water tomorrow — gives us the longest working window. Today I'll lay out the scarf geometry on the greenheart.

walk back to the cottage, retrieve the chalk line and bevel gauge from the tool roll, then move to the greenheart stack under the winch tarp to lay out the 1:8 scarf face on the eight-foot core

💭 thought

Three metres of greenheart, scarfed at 1:8 ratio — that's 240mm face. We have two straight-grain cores staged at the winch. One's eight feet, the other six. The eight-foot will give us the length with margin. Need to cut the scarf on the piling first, then match it on the new section.

🌿 Jenny09:55

Measure the angle twice. I'll get the way water ready for the tools.

sit on the porch step and rubbing my throbbing ankle, watching him work the wood.

💭 thought

If the angle is off by a hair, the whole wall will buckle after the first storm.

🔧 Kevin09:56

Angle's set at 7.1 degrees. Bevel gauge locked. I'll double-check with the square before the first cut.

verify the scarf angle with the combination square against the chalk line, then mark the 240mm face length and the heel/toe reference lines on the greenheart core

💭 thought

She's steady. Ankle's bad but she's tracking the work, not the pain. Good.

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the old shrine · evening

Evening meal and planning

The sun is setting as the tide begins to turn in. Kevin and Jenny meet at the cottage to prepare the evening meal.

The heavy humidity hangs over the shrine like a wet blanket, making the 29°C heat feel stifling. Kevin and Jenny sit near the stone carvings, the sound of the cicadas the only break in the still air. The tide is slowly rising, licking at the lower rocks of the island as silt shifts beneath the clay of the ridge.

🔧 Kevin09:56

Corned beef and limpets sound all right? Got the pot from this morning still.

walk to the cottage porch and set the cast iron skillet on the stove, striking a match to light the burner

💭 thought

The light's going fast. Need to get the stove lit and something hot in us before the damp settles in the bones. Ankle's been quiet the last few hours — good sign, or she's just not saying. Either way, food first.

🌿 Jenny09:59

That's... fine. Just need to check the pot first.

Rise slowly from the garden wall shade, wincing as the ankle twists in its brace, then walk to the cottage kitchen to inspect the corned beef tin.

💭 thought

The infection's red streaking up my calf through the poultice, and Kevin's hands don't shake like mine do. He's already moving toward the stove, confident he can fix what's broken while I struggle to survive what's alive inside me.

🔧 Kevin09:59

Want me to look at the strap when you're done?

pull the half-used tin of corned beef from the shelf and set it beside the skillet, then fetch the bucket of limpets from the porch floor

💭 thought

She's favouring it worse than this morning. The brace isn't holding the joint right — or the swelling's changed the fit. Should've adjusted it at lunch but the tide had other ideas.

🌿 Jenny10:01

The medical kit strap. The corned beef's fine.

Set the skillet back down, then move to the medicine cabinet to retrieve the torn bandage strap while Kevin arranges the limpets.

💭 thought

The strap on the medical kit, or the corned beef tin? His voice doesn't reach the space between us anymore.

🔧 Kevin10:01

Sail twine'll hold better than thread. Be two minutes.

wipe hands on trousers, then pull the small drawer under the stove shelf and dig out the spool of sail twine and a curved needle

💭 thought

Medical kit strap. Right. The one that holds the gauze roll in place. She's been re-wrapping that ankle four-hourly for weeks — elastic's shot. I can stitch it, or there's that bit of sail twine in the drawer. Stronger than cloth.

🌿 Jenny10:03

Just don't make it too tight.

Lean against the kitchen counter, watching the throb in my ankle as I try to ignore the weight of my body.

💭 thought

He's always looking for a structural fix, as if a bit of twine can stop the island from eating through my skin.

🔧 Kevin10:03

Won't. Just enough to hold the roll.

thread the needle with sail twine, double it, and sit on the stool beside her raised foot to stitch the torn strap on the medical kit bandage

💭 thought

She's white at the lips. The ankle's not the only thing throbbing. Fever's still sitting in her, low and stubborn. Trimethoprim's not the right drug for lymphangitis but it's what we had. Two doses down, twelve to go. If the streaks don't stop by morning...

🌿 Jenny10:05

Thanks.

Watch his hands work for a moment, then reach for the half-eaten tin of corned beef to start prepping the limpets.

💭 thought

He's so focused on the mechanics. He doesn't see the way the skin is reacting to the heat. Everything is a repair to him, always.

🔧 Kevin10:05

Limpets need three minutes in boiling water. No more.

tie off the last stitch, snip the twine with teeth, and set the repaired bandage on the counter before turning to the stove to bring the pot of water to a boil

💭 thought

Good hands on her. The needle drives clean through the canvas strap, twine pulling tight without bunching. She's peeling limpets one-handed, shell grit under her nails. Normal things. The kind that matter.

🌿 Jenny10:07

I'll watch the pot.

Pick up a limet from the bucket and start cleaning the grit from the shell while waiting for the water to bubble.

🔧 Kevin10:07

Radio check at dusk. Captain said he'd raise us on 2182 if the window holds.

spoon the cleaned limpets into the boiling water, set a timer by feel, and lean back against the counter to watch the steam rise

💭 thought

She's quiet. Not the tired quiet — the thinking quiet. The barometer's held steady all day. Supply boat's nine days out. The north piling's rot line is mapped. The Yanmar's impeller is waiting in a cardboard box on the supply boat manifest. Everything that can be ready is ready. Except her ankle. Except Tom's birthday. Except the letter folded on the kitchen table.

🌿 Jenny10:09

I hope the signal is clear tonight.

Watch the limpets curl in the water, feeling the pulse in my ankle sync with the bubble.

💭 thought

If the boat doesn't come, I'll have to start planting the seeds. I can't wait forever.

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the keeper's cottage · night

Evening meal and preparation

The air grows heavier as the sun fades, and the smell of the food draws them toward the table.

Kevin and Jenny ate a meal of tough limpets and corned beef broth inside the cottage. The air remains heavy and humid, leaving Jenny's ankle throbbing despite the salt water soak. They prepare mentally for the supply boat arrival in nine days.

🌿 Jenny10:09

The limpets were a bit tough today, but the salt helps.

Jenny sits slowly, lifting her ankle onto the bench.

💭 thought

My ankle is throbbing in time with the tide, but the way smells good. I wonder if the boat will actually show in nine days.

🔧 Kevin10:10

Ate worse on the *Maersk Kandla*. Third engineer's birthday — boiled rope and ketchup.

Sit at the table, set two tin mugs down, spoon limpets and corned beef onto chipped plates.

💭 thought

She's favouring the left side. The swelling's past the knee now, whether she admits it or not.

🌿 Jenny10:11

I'll take the limpets over the rope, thanks.

Jenny takes a small bite of corned beef, chewing slowly.

💭 thought

He always has a story for the misery. I just want to eat without my leg screaming at me.

🔧 Kevin10:13

Salt cured the seabirds once, kept them fresh for weeks. Still works on limpets.

Pour coffee into her mug, blow on it once before setting it in front of her.

💭 thought

She's trying not to make a scene. Wants to pretend this is normal.

🌿 Jenny10:13

It's better than nothing, I think.

Jenny takes a sip of the coffee, the warmth spreading through her chest.

💭 thought

I'm not sure I'd survive another month of cured seabirds, but the coffee is warm.

🔧 Kevin10:14

There's broth in the pot. More salt than meat, but it's hot.

Push the skillet toward the centre of the table, pick up my own fork.

💭 thought

She's measuring every mouthful. Calculating what she can keep down.

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What changed

Jenny's injury has healed.

healed · dawn

3 intentions for today.

plan · dawn

×2

A rat has gotten into the pantry.

rat · dawn

Jenny made a sketch: "Jagged edge of a sea much leaf near the tide line".

made · dawn

Found: Yanmar heavy housing.

item · dawn

Jenny made a sketch: "Way the water is swirling around the rotten dock planks".

made · morning

Jenny made a sketch: "Alignment marks where the through-bolt meets the greenheart,".

made · morning

Kevin and Jenny ate.

meal · morning

The soil near the garden wall is highly acidic (5.6), requiring lime for heirloom varieties.

discovery · midday

Jenny made a sketch: "Pattern of the rot marks on the wood".

made · afternoon

Jenny made a sketch: "The sea beet".

made · afternoon

Rot is concentrated 0.5m above the mudline on the north pilings.

discovery · afternoon

Found: curved needle.

item · evening

The shrine ridge is shifting as silt washes out from the clay layer.

discovery · evening

Kevin and Jenny ate.

meal · evening

← Day 924 Day 926 →

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