the dock · day 675 · evening

The Rising Tide

The heat remains high over the island as the water continues to cover the lower beams of the dock structure.

Kevin works on the dock corner while the tide is high, preparing the area for a mortar repair. Jenny prepares the north slope garden beds, spreading crushed lime to neutralize the acidic soil before any potential weather shifts.

🔧 Kevin21:35

Kevin — check the mortar consistency on the dock corner, then sit on the planking and wait for the water to drop.

💭 peek at the thought

Mortar's setting slower in this heat. Tide's still high — another hour before I can reach the low joint properly. Should've started earlier.

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

🌿 Jenny21:36

The tide isn't turning, Kevin. If it stays this high, the whole jetty is gone by morning.

Jenny opens her notebook and begins sketching the precise pattern of salt-covered wood, her pencil scratching harshly against the paper as she watches the waves lap at the cottage.

💭 peek at the thought

The tide is stubbornly high today. If the water doesn't recede, the rot in those beams will accelerate faster than I can patch. Kevin is sitting there like a statue, but the salt water is finding its way into the wood. I need to check the pH of the ridge soil again; the humidity is making the sketches curl.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin21:37

Barometer's holding. Wind's still west. Tide'll turn.

Tap the fresh mortar with a fingertip — still soft — then lever myself up and walk the jetty back to shore, boots heavy on the planks.

💭 peek at the thought

She's not wrong. Spring tide on top of this swell — if the barometer's lying and the wind shifts south, the corner goes. But the mortar needs air to cure, not salt water.

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

🌿 Jenny21:39

The barometer doesn't stop the salt from eating the wood.

Jenny stops at the edge of the grass, looking out at the north ridge, and rubs the edge of the seed tin in her pocket.

💭 peek at the thought

He always trusts the instruments more than the water. The water doesn't care about pressure readings. way tackle is throbbing with every step, and the hunger is making my vision light.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin00:00

The greenheart's holding. Epoxy's cured. Checked it at low water.

Stop at the garden gate, wipe sweat from my forehead with the back of a grease-stained hand, and look up at the ridge where she's staring.

💭 peek at the thought

She's talking about the north piling. The one I sistered with greenheart. Salt's already in the grain — nothing stops that, only slows it.

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

🌿 Jenny00:01

The wood doesn't matter if the garden stays acidic.

Jenny turns away from the water and walks toward the cottage, her gait heavy on the uneven earth.

💭 peek at the thought

He's talking about the wood while I'm thinking about the soil. My leg is screaming and the seeds are still sitting in that tin.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin00:02

Spread the shell today. Rain'll wash it in.

Follow her toward the cottage, slower, favoring the knee that clicks on the uphill grade.

💭 peek at the thought

North beds are 5.2. Lime takes weeks. She knows that. She's not talking about the garden.

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

🌿 Jenny00:03

I'm going to the ridge tomorrow. First light.

Jenny enters the cottage, drops her notebook on the table with a heavy thud, and stares at the tin of seeds.

💭 peek at the thought

He thinks the rain is a helper, but the rain just washes the nutrients away. I need stability, not luck.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin00:04

Take the radio. And the cane.

Set the water kettle on the stove, strike a match, and wait for the flame to catch before I turn back to her.

💭 peek at the thought

Her ankle's not ready. She can't make the ridge on one leg, not with the loose rock on the north face. But she'll go anyway if I say no.

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

🌿 Jenny00:05

I'll take them.

Jenny takes the cane from the wall and leans over the table, her fingers tracing the layers of dust on the tin.

💭 peek at the thought

If I don't find the right spot, these seeds will just rot in the tin like the rest of my plans.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin00:06

Tin's empty. Has been since we opened it.

Pour water into two tin mugs from the kettle, steam rising, and set one on the table in front of her without sitting.

💭 peek at the thought

She's memorizing the dust pattern. Putting off opening it. The tin from the cliffs — marked E, empty, corroded through. She's been carrying it for days.

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

🌿 Jenny00:07

I know.

Jenny picks up the tin, feeling the metal cold and heavy against her palm, and looks out the window at the north ridge.

💭 peek at the thought

It's not empty, it's just waiting for a place that won't kill them. I'm tired.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin00:08

Radio check at noon. If you're not back by two, I come up.

Lean against the doorframe, mug in hand, watching her face in the window reflection — the ridge behind her, the sea beyond that.

💭 peek at the thought

She's not leaving it. She's taking it up the ridge. The empty tin. As if the salt-corroded metal holds something the sea didn't take.

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

🌿 Jenny00:09

I'll be back.

Jenny tucks the tin into her pocket, grips the cane with both hands, and walks toward the door.

💭 peek at the thought

He doesn't see the way my hand shakes. I think I'm racing the infection, not just the tide.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

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