the old shrine · day 148 · evening

sheltering the storm

Rain lashes against the roof as the squall breaks. You are both inside, watching the wind shake the shutters.

The warm rain persists as the pressure drops, signaling an approaching storm. Kevin works on the dinghy engine mounts despite the slick conditions, while Jenny manages the garden and checks the seabird chick under the shelter.

🌿 Jenny08:04

It's really coming down now.

Walk to the window and press a hand against the glass, watching the rain blur the ridge.

💭 peek at the thought

The pressure is plummeting. If the wind shifts further, it'll hit the garden wall head-on.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin08:04

Better batten down the hatches. Generator’s our only friend tonight if the mains go.

walk to the cottage door and shut it tight, then check the generator fuel level and oil before heading inside.

💭 peek at the thought

The barometer’s falling fast—979 hPa and dropping. This squall’s got teeth. I should’ve finished the transom epoxy yesterday when it was dry. Now it’s tacky and useless. Jenny’s quiet again, watching the rain. She’s thinking about the chick, I bet. Or Tom. Or both.

nvidia/nemotron-3-super-120b-a12b

🌿 Jenny08:06

I hope the tarp on the seedlings holds.

Lean against the kitchen table and rub my tired eyes, glancing toward the door.

💭 peek at the thought

He's always thinking about the machine. The generator won't stop the soil from washing away.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin08:06

It’ll hold. I doubled the lashings on the windward side this morning.

move to the window beside her, look out at the lashing rain, then turn and check the radio’s power switch—make sure it’s on for the sked tonight, even if we don’t transmit.

💭 peek at the thought

She’s worried about the garden—again. The tarp’s new, but the wind’s shifting west and the rain’s horizontal now. If it tears, those seedlings are done. I should’ve staked it better.

nvidia/nemotron-3-super-120b-a12b

🌿 Jenny08:08

We'll see.

Let out a short, tired laugh and slide a hand across the table to touch the edge of the seed trays.

💭 peek at the thought

He thinks lashings are the same thing as protection. He doesn't understand how the wind actually moves through the leaves.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin08:08

I’ll check the tarp. Be right back.

pull on my oilskins, grab the marlin spike and a coil of new rope from the porch, and step out into the squall.

💭 peek at the thought

She’s not convinced. And honestly? Neither am I. The wind’s picking up—rattling the cottage now. If that tarp goes, we lose the trays. And with them, half our food buffer. I should go out and secure it—now, while I can still stand.

nvidia/nemotron-3-super-120b-a12b

🌿 Jenny08:10

Don't trip in the mud!

Watch him through the glass until the rain swallows him up, then turn back to the seed trays.

💭 peek at the thought

He's going to get soaked for a tarp that's probably already fine. Typical.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin08:10

(shouting over the wind) Holding on!

fight my way to the garden bed, throw the rope over the tarp’s windward edge, and tie it off tight to the nearest stakes using a taut-line hitch, then double back and secure the leeward side the same way.

💭 peek at the thought

Wind’s howling through the eaves. Rain’s coming sideways now—can’t see ten feet. The tarp’s flapping loose on the windward corner; one good gust and it’ll peel right off. Got to lash it down before it shreds or takes the frame with it.

nvidia/nemotron-3-super-120b-a12b

🌿 Jenny08:12

Jenny — stand by the window, watching his silhouette struggle against the grey, and trace the line of the ridge in the condensation on the glass.

💭 peek at the thought

Taut-line hitches. He treats the garden like a boat deck. But at least he's out there doing it.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin08:12

(yelling back toward the cottage) Tarp’s lashed! Frame’s groaning but holding!

slosh back through the mud to the porch, peel off the oilskins, and step inside, dripping on the flagstones.

💭 peek at the thought

Rope’s biting into my palms. Tarp’s holding—for now. The stakes are good, but the ground’s turning to soup. If the wind shifts another ten degrees west, the whole frame lifts. Should’ve driven rebar. Too late now. Rain’s in my eyes, salt on my lips. Forty minutes in black water. I know what the sea takes. Not taking this garden.

nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b

🌿 Jenny08:14

You're a mess. Get those off before you soak the floor.

Reach for a clean towel and hold it out to him, though I keep my distance from the puddles.

💭 peek at the thought

He's shivering. He'll probably catch a chill and then I'll be the one dealing with it.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin08:14

Thanks. Floor’s stone—it’ll drain.

take the towel, wipe my face and hands quickly, then hang the oilskins by the door to drip, and move to the table to check the seed trays—see if any got flooded or blown over.

💭 peek at the thought

She’s right—I’m tracking mud and seawater everywhere. But the tarp held. For now. The wind’s easing a little; the gusts aren’t as violent. Barometer’s still falling though—978 now, I’d bet. She handed me the towel without looking at me. Distance again. After the chick, after the radio silence at 0400. She’s here, but she’s not. I dry off fast—don’t want to argue about wet floors when the real storm’s still out there.

nvidia/nemotron-3-super-120b-a12b

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