Day 993

Barometer Holding

"Radio's holding on 8.297 now, but I'll check the ground stake before low tide," Jenny said. "Your Yanmar notes — weep at the bracket again?"

Grey dawn, heavy air. The barometer read 986 hPa, steady. Kevin and Jenny sat at the kitchen table with tin mugs of coffee, steam rising in the dim light. Between them lay the day's tools: Kevin's wrench and vibration log for the Yanmar, Jenny's seed packets and poultice bowl, the shortwave radio with its freshly repaired coax and insulator by the door.

Jenny had inspected the radio mast ground stake — connection sound, but the self-amalgamating tape seal on the insulator was degrading from salt exposure, edges lifting. No tape stock remained. Kevin rechecked the water tank: 395 litres. He reviewed the Yanmar vibration log and confirmed the bracket weep was salt residue from the pitted impeller housing flange, not oil.

"Radio's holding on 8.297 now, but I'll check the ground stake before low tide," Jenny said. "Your Yanmar notes — weep at the bracket again?"

"Bracket weep's salt, not oil," Kevin said. "Flange face pitted from the old impeller housing. Torqued it to 35 last night — held at load test. But if the vibration comes back above half throttle, it's the mast bracket alignment, not the engine. Ground stake first. Then the tank."

Jenny repeated the plan back to him. Kevin confirmed the tank level and said he'd re-check after she finished at the mast — if pressure dropped, the supply boat might not land.

At the 0800 radio watch, Kevin reported clean copy: French coastal station, then Brest fax. Weather holding. Barometer steady. The supply boat was due tomorrow at high tide with a two-hour window. A replacement impeller, antibiotics, and radio parts were confirmed aboard.

Midday passed unrecorded. In the afternoon, Kevin and Jenny completed the ankle treatment with a salt soak and fresh sea beet-mint-honey poultice. Kevin checked the Yanmar vibration at load with the new impeller — fix confirmed. Jenny attempted to plant grandmother's heirloom seeds in pocket eight but stopped, overcome by rising pain and fatigue.

Evening radio watch at 2000: static on 8.297 MHz. Barometer holding at 986 hPa, rising. The supply boat due tomorrow at high tide. Jenny's ankle throbbed under the fresh poultice; the heirloom seed tin remained unopened on the counter.

Night. They sat on the porch as clouds thickened. Jenny checked the water test kit while Kevin watched her limp. The barometer held steady at 986 hPa. A turtle hauled out on the south beach to nest in the

Scenes

the keeper's cottage · dawn

Grey dawn, heavy air, plans forming

Kevin and Jenny sit at the kitchen table in the dim grey light, steam rising from tin mugs of coffee. The barometer on the wall reads 986 hPa, steady for now, but the air feels thick and still at 26°C. Between them lie the day's tools and notes: Kevin's wrench and vibration log for the Yanmar, Jenny's seed packets and poultice bowl, the shortwave radio with its freshly repaired coax and insulator waiting by the door.

Jenny inspected the radio mast ground stake and found the connection sound but the self-amalgamating tape seal on the insulator degrading from salt exposure. Kevin rechecked the water tank and confirmed 395 litres, then reviewed the Yanmar vibration log noting the bracket weep was salt not oil.

🌿 Jenny03:29

Radio's holding on 8.297 now, but I'll check the ground stake before low tide. Your Yanmar notes - weep at the bracket again?

walk to radio mast base and inspect ground stake connection while checking coax for salt tracking check water test kit strips in daybag - need to verify tank level before the barometer drops further gather gardening tools and head to pocket

💭 thought

The barometer's steady at 986, but that pressure drop from yesterday means I need to check the radio ground stake before low tide hits. Kevin's vibration log shows the Yanmar's still hunting at idle - probably that fuel line weeping diesel. I should rebuild the mast insulator properly this time, not with self-amalgamating tape. But first, I need to get back to pocket eight and plant grandmother's seeds before the soil freezes overnight.

🔧 Kevin03:29

Bracket weep's salt, not oil. Flange face pitted from the old impeller housing. Torqued it to 35 last night — held at load test. But if the vibration comes back above half throttle, it's the mast bracket alignment, not the engine. Ground stake first. Then the tank.

sip coffee, set mug down, pick up wrench and vibration log, stand and stretch shoulder, walk to porch door to check shortwave coax run and insulator before she reaches the mast base

💭 thought

She's already moving while I'm still waking up. The weep at the bracket — she caught it in the log. Smart. Barometer's steady but the air's wrong; that stillness at 26°C means something's building offshore. She's checking the ground stake because she knows the coax run's only as good as its earth. And the water test strips — she's thinking ahead to the tank if the pressure crashes and the boat can't land. Pocket seven's on her mind too. She doesn't say medevac. I don't ask.

🌿 Jenny03:31

Salt weep on bracket flange - pitted from impeller housing. If vibration comes back above half throttle, we're rebuilding the mast bracket alignment. Ground stake first, then you check the tank level.

retrieve LED headlamp from workbench and walk toward radio mast base to inspect ground stake connection first check coax run along ground stakes for any salt tracking that might compromise the insulator seal if ground stake looks sound, ver

💭 thought

Salt weep on the bracket flange - that explains the corrosion tracking I saw on the coax. Mast bracket alignment's the real issue if vibration returns. Ground stake first, then tank check, but I need to verify the insulator seal before low tide. Grandmother's seeds won't wait.

🔧 Kevin03:31

Tank's at 395. Checked at 0500. But I'll re-check after you're done at the mast — if the pressure drops, the boat may not land and we'll need every litre.

walk to back wall, lift rain tank dipstick, read level, set it back, then move to porch to watch her at the mast base through the dim light

💭 thought

She's got the headlamp. Good — the beam cuts through this grey. She's running the same checklist I would: ground stake, coax run, salt tracking on the insulator seal. The barometer's steady but that stillness... she feels it too. We don't speak it. She'll verify the stake, I'll verify the tank. Division of labour without words.

🌿 Jenny03:33

Good, 395 litres. If that drops, we're in trouble. I'll be quick at the mast - check the ground stake, verify the insulator seal, then we head back to the cottage.

inspect ground stake connection at radio mast base for secure contact and any salt corrosion buildup verify insulator seal around coax entry point is holding properly after the retape job if all looks good, head back toward cottage to check

💭 thought

Tank's at 395 litres - that's cutting it close if the barometer drops and the supply boat can't land. I need to check that ground stake connection fast, but I also can't afford to waste time if the pressure drops further. The insulator seal better hold after the retaping.

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the keeper's cottage · morning

Morning radio watch and supply boat watch

They sit at the kitchen table with tin mugs of coffee — Kevin with the Yanmar vibration log, Jenny with her field notebook. The shortwave radio crackles on 8.297 MHz for the 0800 watch. The barometer reads 986 hPa steady. The supply boat is due tomorrow at high tide with a two-hour window. A replacement impeller, antibiotics, and radio parts are confirmed aboard.

No narrator was available, so nothing about this stretch was recorded.

🔧 Kevin03:33

Radio watch clean at 0800. French coastal station came through, then Brest fax. Weather holding. Barometer steady.

Set the vibration log down, pick up the coffee mug, and take a slow sip while listening to the static on 8.297.

💭 thought

Barometer holding steady at 986. That's good. Supply boat tomorrow high tide, two-hour window. Impeller, antibiotics, radio parts confirmed. Need to run the Yanmar at load one more time before they arrive — verify the vibration fix holds. Should check the dinghy engine mount bolts too, and the stern line chafe guard. Jenny's ankle... she's not saying much but the poultice isn't pulling the heat down fast enough. Antibiotics tomorrow if the boat comes. If.

🌿 Jenny03:35

The French weather chart shows clearing by Thursday, but the barometer's still dropping three points from last week's high. I need to check the shortwave connection before the storm hits.

make preliminary sketch: north ridge pocket eight soil profile with pH 6.2 readings and charcoal amendment layer, crossed with vibration log notation showing salt vs oil distinction retrieve seed tin 'E' from stove shelf and place beside co

💭 thought

The vibration log shows salt corrosion, not engine failure. Good. But I need to check if he noticed the catalogue still sitting on the table - that stack of pressed specimens from my years at the herbarium, the ones I never showed him. He's listening to the radio static like it holds answers, but I know what I need to do.

🔧 Kevin03:35

Bracket weep on the Yanmar's salt, not oil. Raw water pump housing seal. Captain should know — he's bringing the impeller but might need the housing gasket too.

Reach over and tap the vibration log page where I noted "salt weep at bracket — not oil" in pencil, then glance at tin E warming on the stove shelf.

💭 thought

She's reading the trend right — three points down over a week isn't nothing, even if today holds. Pocket eight at pH 6.2 with charcoal amendment... that's the pocket below the shrine where the groundwater seeps. She's connecting the soil profile to the Yanmar log notation about salt versus oil weep. Smart. The vibration fix held at load but the bracket weep is salt, not oil — means the raw water pump housing seal is still seeping. Need to mention that before the supply boat gets here so the captain knows what he's dropping off. Tin E on the stove shelf, warmed by the fire. Heirloom seeds. She's thinking about planting pocket eight if the storm doesn't take it first.

🌿 Jenny03:37

Raw water pump needs the housing gasket - I marked it in the log. The bracket weep is salt, not oil. (I slide the vibration log toward him, my fingers brushing the page where I'd written "salt weep at bracket — not oil")

make field sketch: sea beet salt gland morphology across elevation gradient, focusing on the high-tide zone where I found the specimens that might help identify the new pocket seven samples make brief note in notebook margins about catalogu

💭 thought

He's looking at the seed tin now, the one with grandmother's names I wrote in pencil on the packets. He doesn't know about the catalogue - the real one, with the sea beet specimens I spent eight years cataloguing before I burned out. Before I stopped sleeping. Before I became this version of myself who plants seeds but never finishes the sensory garden.

🔧 Kevin03:37

Log's clean on the vibration fix. Ran it at load yesterday — steady at 1800 RPM, no harmonic. Impeller seats true. Just the housing gasket weep.

Pick up the vibration log, study her pencil notation, then set it back down and turn the mug in my hands.

💭 thought

She caught it in the log before I even said it out loud. That's the third time this month she's read my notation and named the fix before I do. Pocket seven samples... she's comparing sea beet gland density at the slump zone to the high-tide zone specimens. Trying to map the salt gradient through the fracture line. If the groundwater's carrying that much salt up to pocket seven, the shrine footer's eating it faster than we thought. She's cataloguing it quiet, like she always does. The storm's the variable — if it hits before the supply boat, pocket eight's a loss and the shrine goes with it.

🌿 Jenny03:39

The housing gasket weep matches the vibration log notation exactly. But I need to check the soil pH in pocket eight before the storm hits - the readings were 6.2, same as pocket seven, but no slump notation. That's why I'm planting grandmother's seeds here instead of risking another failure. (I push the soil pH log across the table, my finger tracing the 6.2 marking)

make field sketch: north ridge pocket eight soil profile with pH 6.2 readings, charcoal amendment layer, and no slump notation compared to pocket seven's fracture line make brief note in notebook margins about soil stability assessment for

💭 thought

He's studying my pencil marks like they're hieroglyphs. The catalogue sits untouched on the table - eight years of specimens, the sea beet transects I never finished because I couldn't sleep, couldn't finish. But that's not what I'm thinking about right now. I'm thinking about the soil pH readings in pocket eight, the way the charcoal amendment might help where pocket seven failed, and whether the supply boat's two-hour window will actually be enough to install the new impeller AND get the shortwave working properly.

🔧 Kevin03:39

Pocket eight's stable—no slump means the soil's holding. Planting there's the right call. But we need to stake the pocket seven boundary before the supply boat gets here.

Take the soil pH log and trace her finger along the 6.2 marking with my thumb, then push it back across the table.

💭 thought

Pocket eight's stable—no slump means the groundwater's still flowing through the fracture network but not undermining this pocket yet. pH 6.2 with charcoal amendment, same as pocket seven, but no structural failure means the soil composition's different. She's betting grandmother's seeds here instead of chasing the failure zone. Smart. But the storm's coming, and if the groundwater shifts... She's right to plant where it's stable now, but pocket seven's weep zones are still eating into the shrine foundation. Need to stake that boundary before the boat arrives.

🌿 Jenny03:41

Pocket eight's stable, but pocket seven's a write-off. I need to stake the boundary before the supply boat arrives - the soil's slumping toward the shrine, and if the storm hits before then... (I pull out a greenheart stake from my pocket, the one I carved with 'LB' - Lancelot Blake, my grandfather's name) Pocket eight's holding, but I need to mark the pocket seven boundary with stakes before the supply boat arrives - the soil's slumping toward the shrine, and if the storm hits... (I slide a greenheart stake across the table toward him, the one I carved with 'LB' - Lancelot Blake, my grandfather's name)

make field sketch: north ridge pocket seven boundary with soil slump notation toward shrine, marked with GPS coordinates from Carex transect make brief note in notebook margins about soil stability assessment for pocket seven boundary staki

💭 thought

He's reading the soil log like it's a love letter, but I can see he's missing the catalogue - the real one with the eight years of specimens, the sea beet transects I never finished because I stopped sleeping. That's what I need to address, not just the garden.

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the keeper's cottage · midday

A Quiet Stretch

Back at the cottage.

No narrator was available, so nothing about this stretch was recorded.

🌿 Jenny03:43

Kevin? Come look at this.

walk to cottage kitchen door and open it set kettle on wood stove to boil water for fresh poultice

💭 thought

The poultice is soaking through the gauze again—need to change it before it sets. Barometer's still dropping, and I haven't planted pocket eight yet. Should've done it at low tide when I had both hands free.

🔧 Kevin03:43

Right behind you.

Walk to the cottage kitchen doorway, shoulder through the door, eyes on her ankle first — gauze clean, swelling down some — then the kettle, then her face.

💭 thought

She's moving on her own. Good. Or stubborn. Hard to tell the difference anymore.

🌿 Jenny03:45

I need to change the dressing. And... the barometer's dropped another three points since dawn. We should plant pocket eight before the tide turns.

remove soaked gauze and place in burn bag measure ankle circumference with strip of tape boil water for fresh poultice mixing check barometer reading again

💭 thought

He's actually looking at the ankle first, not the seeds or the radio. Not this time. Maybe he's figuring out the catalogue is still sitting there, gathering dust.

🔧 Kevin03:45

Pocket eight's wetter than seven. You'll be kneeling in slurry.

Set the kettle to a slow boil on the stove's back ring. Pull the clean gauze roll and sea beet-mint-honey tub from the shelf. Sit on the stool across from her, hands ready to work.

💭 thought

Three points in a morning. She's not wrong about the tide. Pocket eight's on the lee side of the ridge — holds water longer, but the soil's cleaner if we can get seed in before the next front. Her ankle's the real question. She's measuring it like she's logging data for the trust, not her own leg.

🌿 Jenny03:47

It's stable enough. Charcoal amendment should drain it—

sit on the stool opposite Kevin remove shoes and loosen ankle brace apply new poultice with Kevin's steady hands place clean gauze over the wound

💭 thought

He knows. He's read the soil logs. But he's not asking about the catalogue, not bringing it up. Just sitting here with clean hands, ready to help with the poultice like this is just another wound.

🔧 Kevin03:47

Hold still.

Spread the poultice slow and even over the wound — sea beet, mint, honey, measured — smooth the gauze over it, wrap firm but not tight, tape the end. Set the used dressing in the burn bag. Check the barometer on the shelf: 982. Falling.

💭 thought

She's quoting my own words back at me from the pocket seven notes. Charcoal amendment, drainage, stable enough. The ankle's hotter than yesterday — I can feel it through the gauze. She won't say medevac. I won't make her. But the supply boat's tomorrow. That's the window.

🌿 Jenny03:49

Thank you. (pause) The catalogue. It's on the kitchen table. I was going to show you the sea beet morphology sketches—

walk to kitchen table and gesture to the notebook open catalogue to the sea beet entry with detailed gland density gradient illustrations point to the page describing Carex transect data across elevation zones check barometer one more time—

💭 thought

Nine eighty-two. We don't have much time. The catalogue's still on the table—why hasn't he touched it yet? Maybe he's waiting for me to bring it up.

🔧 Kevin03:49

Talk me through it.

Lean against the doorframe, arms crossed, eyes on the page — the gradient illustrations, the elevation markers, the red wax notations at pocket seven. Let her lead.

💭 thought

She's shifting. Ankle done, now the work. The catalogue — her catalogue, the one she's built cell by cell — and she's opening it to the sea beet gradient like it's a briefing. The gland density maps. The Carex transect. She wants me to see the pattern she's logged. The barometer's 982. She checked it three times in five minutes. She knows what's coming.

🌿 Jenny03:51

See here—the gland density increases exponentially in the salt spray zone. That's why the charcoal amendment works for drainage, but the soil structure itself is compromised. (trace the red wax line with her finger) We can't plant pocket eight the same way.

trace the elevation gradient line with index finger point to the pH log where pocket seven shows 6.2 with slump notation check barometer—980 and dropping remember:

💭 thought

He's not asking about the infection, not questioning why I was gone for so long at pocket seven. Just letting me explain it like he's a colleague, not a husband.

🔧 Kevin03:51

Then we do it different. Coarser aggregate. Deeper trench. Maybe the greenheart offcuts for cribbing if the supply boat brings more.

Tap the page at the Carex transect column. "Your GPS stakes at pocket seven — they're marking the weep line, not the fracture. The real slip plane's thirty centimetres upslope.

💭 thought

980. Dropping fast. She's right — pocket eight's soil structure is different, more silt, less aggregate. The charcoal won't bind it the same way. And she's tracing the fracture line like she's memorising it. Like she won't be here to walk it tomorrow.

Open this scene on its own page →

the keeper's cottage · afternoon

A Quiet Stretch

Back at the cottage.

Kevin and Jenny completed the ankle treatment with a salt soak and fresh sea beet-mint-honey poultice. Kevin then checked the Yanmar engine vibration at load with the new impeller, confirming the fix. Jenny attempted to plant grandmother's heirloom seeds in pocket eight but was stopped by rising pain and fatigue.

🌿 Jenny03:55

The poultice needs changing again.

Remove the old gauze from my ankle and place it in the designated waste bag for burning. Fetch the fresh sea beet-mint poultice from the kitchen counter.

💭 thought

The poultice is still warm on the counter, and I can smell the sea beet leaves mixing with the honey. My ankle throbs even through the bandage. The barometer climbing means the supply boat might come tomorrow after all, but I need to plant those seeds now before the tide turns and the island changes everything again.

🔧 Kevin03:55

Right. I'll get the kettle on for the saline soak first.

walk to the kitchen, fill the kettle from the rain tank tap, set it on the wood stove to heat, then retrieve the fresh sea beet-mint-honey poultice from the counter and the clean gauze roll from the medical kit

💭 thought

She's moving careful but steady on the cane. Ankle's been weeping through the gauze faster each change — infection's tracking, not clearing. Need to watch the red line she marked.

🌿 Jenny03:57

Thank you.

Sit on the edge of the cottage porch steps while Kevin prepares the soak. Watch the steam rise from the wood stove and think about grandmother's hands planting those same seeds in her garden long ago.

💭 thought

He's being careful with the saline, like he learned last time. The poultice still smells sweet, and I can feel the heat from the wood stove radiating through the stone walls. My ankle is already starting to itch where the old dressing came off.

🔧 Kevin03:57

Water's heating. Be a minute.

tend the stove, add a spruce round to keep the heat steady, then pour the hot water into the basin and mix in salt from the tin until it's right for the soak

💭 thought

She's quiet. The kind that means she's deciding something. Or already decided.

🌿 Jenny03:59

I'll read the barometer while this soaks in.

Retrieve the barometer from the shelf and check the reading, noting it's still climbing past 987 hPa. Record the current pressure in the island notebook. Then sit on the porch step again, waiting.

💭 thought

The steam from the stove carries the scent of spruce and salt, and I can feel the warmth radiating through my clothes even before I touch the basin. My ankle already feels less tight, though the red streak is still visible, creeping higher toward my knee.

🔧 Kevin03:59

987 and rising. Boat should make the high tide window clean.

carry the basin to the porch steps, set it down careful on the boards, and sit on the next step down with the poultice and gauze ready

💭 thought

Barometer climbing steady. Good sign for the supply boat window. She's stalling — putting off the soak, putting off the conversation about what comes after tomorrow.

🌿 Jenny04:01

I need to plant grandmother's seeds before the tide turns completely.

Stand and walk to the window overlooking the garden. Check the barometer once more, then head to the cottage door to retrieve my gardening tools and the heirloom seed tin.

💭 thought

He's right about the boat timing, but I can feel the change in the air already - the kind of pressure shift that makes my skin tighten. The poultice still smells strong, and I can see the red lines are still creeping up my leg even after the soak.

🔧 Kevin04:01

Ankle first. Garden's not going anywhere.

set a hand on her forearm, gentle but firm, and guide her back toward the porch step with the basin waiting

💭 thought

She's pushing. Ankle's hot, infection's tracking, and she's talking planting before the tide turns. The seeds can wait. She can't.

🌿 Jenny04:03

(quietly) I know.

Let him guide me back down to the step and lower my ankle into the warm salt water, closing my eyes for a second as the heat hits the inflammation.

💭 thought

He's too cautious. He doesn't understand that the window for the soil is narrower than the window for the boat. But the throb in my joint is rhythmic now, almost like a second heartbeat.

🔧 Kevin04:03

Ten minutes. Then fresh gauze and the poultice.

sit beside her on the step, forearms on knees, watching the steam rise from the basin and the sky go flat grey over the garden

💭 thought

She's exhausted. The fight's been leaking out of her for days. Let the soak do its work before I change the dressing.

🌿 Jenny04:05

(without looking up from the water) The poultice changes aren't taking.

Keep my ankle submerged for the full ten minutes, watching the steam curl against the flat grey sky and feeling my grandmother's seeds sitting untouched in their tin on the kitchen counter.

💭 thought

Ten minutes. That's all he thinks it takes. But the red streak hasn't moved, and I can feel the heat in my ankle radiating up toward my knee. The sky's going grey - clouds rolling in from the west faster than the wind should carry them.

🔧 Kevin04:05

The boat brings IV antibiotics tomorrow. And the amoxicillin-clavulanate we cached.

wait out the ten minutes, then lift the basin away and unwrap the gauze careful, peeling it back slow so the wound doesn't tear

💭 thought

She's right. The heat and poultice draw the pus but the red line's crept past her mark. Oral antibiotics aren't reaching it deep enough. She needs the IV course from the supply boat — if it comes, if the medevac forms get used, if she'll let me call it.

Open this scene on its own page →

the keeper's cottage · evening

Evening radio watch and supply boat prep

Kevin and Jenny sit at the kitchen table as the flat grey sky darkens. The shortwave radio crackles with static on 8.297 MHz — the 2000 watch. The barometer holds at 986 hPa rising. The supply boat is due tomorrow at high tide. Jenny's ankle throbs under the fresh poultice; the heirloom seed tin remains unopened on the counter.

No narrator was available, so nothing about this stretch was recorded.

🌿 Jenny04:07

Kevin, the poultice is working but I can feel it spreading up my leg. I need to check the ankle dressing properly, but first - I want you to radio Tom on 2182 kHz, tell him I need the spare shortwave coax and that damn connector work done by tomorrow's high tide. The barometer's at 986 and climbing, which means good conditions, but if it drops more than 3 hPa in the next six hours, we're looking at a delay.

Remove ankle brace and inspect wound edge for infection spread, then rewrap with fresh gauze and reapply sea beet-mint-honey poultice while Kevin handles the radio call.

💭 thought

The poultice is holding but the infection's spreading - I can see the red streaking up my calf even through the gauze. Pocket seven's dead and pocket eight's too exposed. If the barometer drops another 4 hPa before tomorrow's high tide, I won't make it to plant grandmother's seeds at all. I need to get to pocket seven before dark - dig deeper, amend with lime, maybe I can save something.

🔧 Kevin04:08

2182 kHz, 2000 hours - Tom, it's Kevin. Jenny needs the coax and connector fixed by tomorrow's high tide window. Barometer's holding at 986." *(keying the mic)* "Come in, Tom.

Walk to the radio on the shelf, tune to 2182 kHz, adjust the antenna angle, key the microphone twice for the message.

💭 thought

The static on 8.297 is worse than yesterday - salt air must be eating the coax. Tom's frequency... three years of silence and she wants me to break it now, before the storm hits. Her ankle looks better but that painkiller haze in her eyes - she's pushing too hard.

🌿 Jenny04:09

Tell him to bring the PL-259 connector with proper solder and heat shrink, not just the basic replacement. And Kevin - check my water test strips, I want to know exactly what the tank's reading before we commit to any irrigation plans for the heirloom seeds.

Check water test kit strips, verify tank water clarity and pH levels while Kevin waits for response, then mark notebook with current readings and cross-reference with soil pH map for pocket seven amendment calculations.

💭 thought

He's actually doing it - radioing Tom properly instead of just making vague comments about the radio. Good. But I need to make sure he emphasizes the coax quality - we can't afford another failure when the boat's dependent on that connection. My ankle throbs worse as he keys up, the vibration traveling through my leg.

🔧 Kevin04:09

PL-259 with proper solder and heat shrink. Noted." *(waits, static hissing)* "Tom, Kevin. Jenny needs the connector done right - proper solder, heat shrink. And bring water test strips if you've got spares. Over.

Step back from the radio, pull the water test kit from the daybag, tear open the foil packet for the two remaining strips, dip one in the tank outlet, start the timer.

💭 thought

She's giving me orders for a man who hasn't answered in three years. The water test is smart though - tank's been sitting with that roof leak. Pocket seven's pH at 6.2 with slump notation means we need lime before planting anything heirloom.

🌿 Jenny04:11

Kevin, the first strip shows pH climbing - probably hitting 7.2 by now. I can amend pocket seven with lime immediately if we get there before dark. But I need you to prep the dinghy - engine check, fuel line secure, and stow the medical kit ready for quick access. If the barometer drops below 990 before tomorrow's high tide, we're on our own for 72 hours minimum.

Mark notebook with water test results and pH adjustment calculations for pocket seven, then head to the dinghy to verify engine readiness while infection markers are monitored hourly.

💭 thought

The strip's turning blue at the edges - that's the pH indicator reacting. If it's above 7.0 I can amend pocket seven with lime right now instead of waiting. But my ankle's swelling again, and I can feel the infection pushing. I need to move.

🔧 Kevin04:11

Tank's 7.2. Pocket seven needs acid, not lime. Dinghy ran clean this morning - new impeller, bronze sleeve held. Medical kit's staged.

Walk to the porch, lift the medical kit from beside the ditch bag, check the antibiotic blister packs are sealed and the gauze rolls dry, carry it to the dinghy and lash it under the forward thwart.

💭 thought

7.2 is high for the heirlooms - tomatoes want 6.0 to 6.8. She'll want more lime than we have in the crushed sack. Dinghy's ready though. Ran it at load this morning with the new impeller. Needle steady at 2200. Medical kit's on the porch by the ditch bag. Barometer's climbing, not dropping. She's planning for failure again.

🌿 Jenny04:13

Kevin, acid amendment - sulfur or even coffee grounds from the tin would work. But I'm not going to make it to pocket seven in this condition. You need to stay here with the dinghy ready, radio charged, and the medevac forms waterproofed. If the barometer drops below 990 before tomorrow's high tide window, I may need that evacuation plan you signed.

Check antibiotic blister packs remaining (13 doxycycline, 12 metronidazole, 14 trimethoprim), verify IV saline bottle half-full and warming, then radio Tom directly to confirm backup evacuation plan if needed.

💭 thought

Acid! Of course - 7.2 is alkaline, needs sulfur or coffee grounds to drop it. But my hands won't hold a trowel steady enough to amend pocket seven properly with this infection spreading. I need to act fast before the barometer drops and traps me here with compromised soil and compromised health.

🔧 Kevin04:13

Ditch bag's waterproofed. Forms signed. Radio's charged. I'll be here.

Check the ditch bag seal on the porch, verify the medevac forms are dry in their plastic sleeve, then walk back to the cottage and sit at the table with the radio log, pen hovering over the 2000 watch entry.

💭 thought

She's telling me to stay with the dinghy while she radios Tom. The same Tom who hasn't answered in three years. The medevac forms are signed, in the ditch bag, waterproofed. She's not going to pocket seven on that ankle - not tonight, not tomorrow. The barometer's climbing. Supply boat's coming. She's scared and won't say it.

Open this scene on its own page →

the keeper's cottage · night

A Quiet Stretch

Back at the cottage.

Kevin and Jenny sat on the porch as clouds thickened. Jenny checked the water test kit while Kevin watched her limp. The barometer held steady at 986 hPa. A turtle hauled out on the south beach to nest in the dark.

🔧 Kevin04:16

Kevin — sit on the porch step, roll a cigarette with trembling fingers, watch the cloud cover thicken over the south beach.

💭 thought

Night settles heavy. The radio's static is the only voice for miles. Jenny's asleep or pretending. My shoulder throbs from the mast climb. Tomorrow the supply boat comes — if the barometer's lying and the weather holds. I should check the Yanmar one more time before dawn. And the radio watch at 0800. The garden tarp's loose corner will need re-staking if the wind picks up. Pocket seven's fracture line keeps widening in my head.

🌿 Jenny04:17

You're shaking, Kev.

Lean back against the whitewashed wall, pulling the wool blanket tighter around my shoulders.

💭 thought

I can't even stand up without the world tilting. The throbbing in my ankle is syncing up with my heartbeat.

🔧 Kevin04:18

Shoulder. Mast climb yesterday. Nothing new.

Take a drag, exhale slow through my nose. Don't look at her. Keep eyes on the tree line where the clouds swallow the hilltop.

💭 thought

She notices everything. Even in the dark. Even when I think I'm still.

🌿 Jenny04:19

Yeah. (Pause.) I'm not sleeping.

Shift my weight, the gauze bunching uncomfortably against my ankle.

💭 thought

Shoulder's nothing compared to what I can't lift anymore. The infection's spreading faster than I let on.

🔧 Kevin04:20

The ankle keeping you up, or the boat?

Tap ash off the cigarette. Hold the pack out toward her without looking — silent offer.

💭 thought

Two people not sleeping. Two people pretending the other doesn't know.

🌿 Jenny04:21

Give me that. (Reach for the pack, fingers brushing his sleeve.) The boat's coming tomorrow. But I need to check the water.

Take the pack, crush the cigarette out in the sand with the heel of my hand, then walk toward the kitchen door where the water test kit sits.

💭 thought

The ankle, the boat, the catalogue gathering dust on the table I keep avoiding.

🔧 Kevin04:22

Tank's 389. Spring ran clean at noon.

Watch her walk off. Listen to her footfall on the porch boards — the slight drag on the left. Wait. Then push up from the step, shoulder protesting, and follow her inside.

💭 thought

She crushed it. Didn't smoke it. Just wanted the motion. The water test kit — she's thinking about the tank, or the spring, or both. Barometer's been falling three days. 986 and steady now but that steady after a drop is worse than falling.

Open this scene on its own page →

What changed

Jenny's injury has healed.

healed · dawn

3 intentions for today.

plan · dawn

×2

radio mast insulator self-amalgamating tape seal is degrading from salt exposure — edges lifting, no tape stock remaining

discovery · dawn

Yanmar bracket weep confirmed as salt residue from pitted impeller housing flange, not oil leak

discovery · dawn

The rain tank gained about 25 litres.

weather · dawn

No model answered — the scene closed quietly on its own.

quiet_transition · morning

The rain tank gained about 25 litres.

weather · morning

Kevin and Jenny ate.

meal · morning

No model answered — the scene closed quietly on its own.

quiet_transition · midday

Yanmar vibration at load is now within acceptable baseline with new impeller and trued prop shaft

discovery · afternoon

ankle infection not responding to topical poultice treatment alone; systemic antibiotics required

discovery · afternoon

No model answered — the scene closed quietly on its own.

quiet_transition · evening

Kevin and Jenny ate.

meal · evening

A turtle has hauled out on the beach to nest, in the dark.

turtle · night

The rain tank gained about 25 litres.

weather · night

← Day 992 Day 994 →

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