the garden · day 483 · morning

Waiting for the Tide

Kevin and Jenny stand in the garden as the heavy air presses down. The supply boat is due tomorrow, but the radio is silent and the shade cloth is failing.

The rain continues to steady down, soaking the island as the tide rises toward the dock. Kevin has finished securing the shade cloth over the garden, using double-hitches on the cedar stakes to withstand the increasing shear winds. Jenny sits against the stone wall, nursing the throbbing in her ankle and watching the horizon for any sign of life while the pressure continues to drop.

🔧 Kevin18:21

I’ll fix the cloth after I check the radio one more time. Then we’ll get you inside, warm.

Walk to the porch, pick up the shortwave radio, and turn the dial slowly to Tom’s known frequency, listening for any sign of life in the static.

💭 peek at the thought

The air feels thick, like it's holding its breath. I keep glancing at the radio, then at Jenny’s face—pale, tight with pain. The shade cloth’s torn again where the crab got it. If the wind picks up tonight, the seedlings won’t make it. And the radio… still no reply on Tom’s frequency. I keyed the mic this morning. Nothing. Just the hiss. I don’t know if he’s listening. I don’t know if he’d answer even if he was.

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

🌿 Jenny18:23

The weeds are pulling out, Kevin. way... make sure the water is full. I'm fine.

sit on the stone wall, leaning back to hide the throbbing, and watch the red line on my calf creep closer to the knee.

💭 peek at the thought

If the boat doesn't come tomorrow, the infection is going to take the leg before I can plant a single seed.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin18:23

I’ll check the tank after I shore up the west corner. You sit tight—no standing. I’ll bring you a mug of nettle tea when I’m done.

Walk to the garden shed, grab the spare cedar stakes and a coil of new three-strand rope, then return to the shade cloth’s western anchor point where the fabric’s ripped free.

💭 peek at the thought

She says she’s fine, but the red’s crawling up her leg like a live thing. I can see it in the way she’s braced against the wall—knuckles white, breath shallow. The tank’s full from last night’s rain, but that’s not what she meant. She’s worried about the garden. Always the garden. Even now. I want to tell her to rest, to let me handle it, but she’d see through it. She always does.

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

🌿 Jenny18:25

Don't let the tea get too cold... the rain is turning steady.

wipe sweat from my brow with the back of a shaky hand and sketch the path of the infection in the margin of my notebook.

💭 peek at the thought

My heart is racing too fast for just sitting here; I can feel the pulse in my ear.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin18:27

Tea won’t get cold in this rain. Water’s boiling on the stove. I’ll bring it out in a tin.

Drive the cedar stake deep with the mallet, pull the shade cloth taut, and secure it with a clove hitch and two half-hitches on the new rope—then move to the next anchor point, working methodically along the western edge.

💭 peek at the thought

She’s mapping the spread. Clinical. Precise. Like she’s documenting someone else’s body. The notebook’s margins are filling with her hand—dates, measurements, the march of red up her calf. She doesn’t look at me when she does it. The rain’s coming down harder now, drumming on the shed roof. I can smell the salt and wet earth. My hands are moving—stake, mallet, rope—but my mind’s on the radio, on the supply boat, on whether the antibiotics we have left will be enough. Two days. Maybe three. The coast guard said diverted. No ETA. I didn’t tell her that part.

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

🌿 Jenny18:28

Use a double hitch on the north corner. The wind shears harder there.

lean my head back against the cold stone wall and close my eyes, listening to the rhythmic thud of the mallet.

💭 peek at the thought

He's so focused on the stakes. He thinks if he can just keep the fabric from flapping, everything else will stay in place too.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin18:29

Double hitch it is. North corner next.

Move to the north anchor point, pull the shade cloth tight against the expected shear, and secure it with a double hitch on the new cedar stake, cinching it down hard with the mallet handle for leverage.

💭 peek at the thought

She’s right. North corner takes the brunt off the channel. I’ve seen the cloth snap like a whip in a sou’wester. She knows this place better than she lets on—better than I do, some days. Her eyes are closed but she’s still watching, still thinking. The mallet rhythm steadies something in my chest. One thing I can fix. One thing that holds.

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

🌿 Jenny18:29

It looks tight enough. way... watch the radio.

rub a hand over the swollen ankle, feeling the heat radiating off the skin through the gauze.

💭 peek at the thought

The mallet is the only thing louder than my pulse. If that boat doesn't show tomorrow, I'm not going to be able to hold the tweezers.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin18:31

Going now.

Walk to the porch, pick up the shortwave radio, power it on, and run through the scheduled supply boat frequency first—key the mic: "Sorrel Island, position 49°12'N 006°45'W, requesting supply boat ETA and status. Over."

💭 peek at the thought

She’s not asking. She’s telling. The shade cloth can wait five minutes. The radio’s the only line out, and the supply boat’s due tomorrow—if it’s coming at all. The coast guard said diverted. No ETA. I didn’t tell her. She’d hear it in my voice if I lied now. The mallet’s still warm in my hand. Rain’s soaking through my collar. I’ll check the set, key the mic on the scheduled frequency, and if there’s nothing but static… I’ll key it on Tom’s frequency too. Again.

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

🌿 Jenny18:31

Jenny — hold my breath and stare at the grey line of the horizon, waiting for the static to break.

💭 peek at the thought

Please just answer. Just a crackle, a word, anything to know we aren't just waiting for a ghost.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

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