the keeper's cottage · day 384 · morning

A Quiet Stretch

Back at the cottage.

Kevin spends the morning cleaning the water filter mesh to prevent silt buildup in the tank, while Jenny checks the heirloom seedlings, ensuring the shade cloth is secure against the humid wet season heat.

🔧 Kevin17:20

Kevin — walk to the rain tank, open the filter housing, and begin cleaning the silt from the mesh with a rag and fresh water from the tap.

💭 peek at the thought

The quiet after the storm feels heavier than the wind did. I keep thinking about Tom's letter, about the water in Biscay not being a choice but a reflex — and how that’s the one thing I can’t explain to him, or to myself, without sounding like I’m making excuses. Jenny’s been quiet too, but she’s here. That’s something.

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

🌿 Jenny17:21

Jenny — sit on the porch step, way my ankle, and watch him work.

💭 peek at the thought

He's focusing on the filter while I'm rotting from the inside out. The silence is so heavy today.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin17:22

Filter's mostly silt. One more rinse and it'll run clear.

rinse the mesh screen under the tap, shake it hard, and seat it back in the housing, then close the valve and watch the tank fill clean.

💭 peek at the thought

She's watching. Not hovering, not asking — just there. The way she used to be before the silence got thick between us. My hands know this work; they don't need my eyes. But I feel hers on my back, my shoulders, the way I felt the water in Biscay: cold, inevitable, not asking permission.

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

🌿 Jenny17:22

Good.

lean my head back against the stone wall and close my eyes, trying to ignore the heat in my leg.

💭 peek at the thought

At least the water is clear. My ankle is throbbing in time with the drip.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin17:24

Water's running clear. Tank'll be full in twenty minutes.

wipe my hands on my trousers, walk to the porch, and crouch beside her — close enough to smell the salt in her hair, not touching — and wait.

💭 peek at the thought

She's hurting more than she lets on. The heat in her leg means infection spreading, or the antibiotics aren't holding. I should check the wound, change the dressing, make her take water. But she hates being fussed over — calls it "mothering" with that edge in her voice that means she'll shut down if I push. So I'll do the next thing that needs doing, and the next, and let her come to it. Or not. The tank's filling clean. That's something.

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

🌿 Jenny17:24

Boil the limpets.

open one eye and look at him, then look down at the seed tin on the floor.

💭 peek at the thought

He's just standing there. I can feel the heat radiating off my skin like a stove.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin17:26

On it.

pick up the bucket of fresh limpets, carry it to the kitchen, set the cast iron pot on the wood stove, add seawater from the jug, and light the kindling underneath.

💭 peek at the thought

Limpets. Right. Bucket's by the stove. She's giving me something to do — or giving herself something to expect. Either way, it's the first plain order she's given in days. I'll take it.

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

🌿 Jenny17:27

Don't burn them.

reach out and touch the lid of the seed tin, checking for more dampness.

💭 peek at the thought

The smell of the woodsmoke is starting to fill the room. My stomach growls loud enough.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

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