The brooding soggy mists that paint tree trunks green and surfaces succulent with heavy cold sweat have slobbered over our bushland for the first time (with this intensity and duration) in seven or eight years.
The boat sits dry in the middle of a quarter-open shed, but the wood at the back is as wet as it would be outside as the mist floats into the shed and unburdens itself upon any cold surface and drips from that onto anything left below. Needless to say, epoxy does not like it.
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