Squall at midday
Kevin is at the cottage, soaked from securing the dinghy in the squall; Jenny is at the north cliffs, sheltering under an overhang with her sketchbook as the rain lashes the basalt.
The midday air is heavy and still at 28°C. The tide is low, exposing the tide pools and the base of the dock. Kevin and Jenny are focused on final maintenance tasks before the supply boat arrives in seven days.
You stand in the cottage doorway, wringing out your shirt, the Yanmar log open on the table. The generator hums steady behind you. Through the rain you can see the dinghy straining at its doubled lines, the new stern spring holding. The barometer on the shelf reads 1013 and steady — the squall is just a squall, not the front.
Kevin — hang wet shirt on porch rail, pour coffee, sit at table with Yanmar log and review vibration notes
💭 peek at the thought
nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b
Kevin — finish coffee, grab straight edge and feeler gauges from workshop, head out to dinghy at jetty end to inspect mast bracket alignment under no load
💭 peek at the thought
nvidia/nemotron-3-super-120b-a12b
You crouch under a basalt overhang on the north cliffs, sketchbook braced on your knee, charcoal smearing in the damp. The wind tears at the pages. Below, the tide pools are churning, the Carex transect markers invisible in the white water. Your ankle throbs in time with the surf. You've got three saltbush specimens and a pigface cluster half-drawn. The squall shows no sign of breaking.
stay still, Jenny. just still.
make sketch: salt gland morphology on sea beet leaves.
💭 peek at the thought
google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it
damn this weather.
wipe moisture from the paper with a dry cloth.
💭 peek at the thought
google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it
a Lumora Build experiment — live experiment: Kevin & Jenny think on free, open models — what they say is their own.