Pegging the Gauge

That green analog moisture meter stuck deep in the damp fern planter looked far too much like an exposed cockpit depth gauge to leave alone. I scrambled up the rough terracotta rim, straddled the arched plastic casing, and peered down through the clear lens. The slender indicator needle was hovering lazily right on the middle threshold. Tolerating sluggish readings isn't in my protocol. Bracing both gloved hands along the housing's top ridge, I drove my boots downward with all my weight. The dual metal probes sank an inch deeper into the saturated peat—and the black needle whipped across the arc straight into the maximum wet zone. Systems calibrated, completely on my terms.