the keeper's cottage · day 971 · midday

Midday Prep

The gusty wind continues to batter the palms, making the brush removal project too slick for now.

The south-east wind brings heavy spray from the reef, making the air thick with salt. Kevin prepares the cottage for the coming weather while Jenny manages the persistent inflammation in her ankle. The supply boat is now only three days away.

🌿 Jenny08:36

It's too loud to think in here.

Set the coffee mug on the table and rub my throbbing ankle.

💭 peek at the thought

I can't stand this wind. It feels like the island is trying to scrub us off the rock.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin08:36

Radio's quiet on 16 and 70. Supply boat's still two days out at high tide.

Walk to the wood stove, pull the kettle off, pour fresh hot water into her mug, set it back in front of her without a word.

💭 peek at the thought

The wind's howling through the eaves. She's hurting and the noise isn't helping. Coffee's cold by now anyway.

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

🌿 Jenny08:38

Thanks.

Wrap my fingers around the warm mug and look at him.

💭 peek at the thought

He's retreating into the logistics again. Safe, measured, predictable. It's infuriating how he can be so kind and so distant at the same time.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin08:38

Ankle still tracking?

Lean back against the counter, arms folded, keeping my voice low over the wind.

💭 peek at the thought

She's watching me like she's waiting for something. The ankle's bad — I can see it in how she holds herself. Two days until the boat, if it comes.

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

🌿 Jenny08:40

It's still there. Thumping.

Gently peel back a corner of the gauze to show him the redness.

💭 peek at the thought

He means the infection boundary. He's treating my leg like a fuel leak or a cracked manifold.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin08:40

Spread past the pen mark.

Reach for the clean gauze roll and the sea beet-honey poultice on the shelf, pull up a stool beside her chair.

💭 peek at the thought

Red line's crept past where I marked it yesterday. Infection's not backing down. Sea beet's slowing it but not stopping it. Antibiotics are eight days out on that boat — if it comes.

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

🌿 Jenny08:42

I felt it this morning. A heat in the bone.

Shift my leg to give him better access, wincing slightly as the joint moves.

💭 peek at the thought

He's right. It's moving. I hate that he's the one to notice it first, but I can't reach it well enough to be sure.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin08:42

Right. We're changing approach.

Unwrap the gauze fully, set the used dressing in the newspaper burn bag, irrigate the wound with the saline bottle — thorough, steady hands — then mix fresh poultice with pine resin scraped from the jar, pack it deep around the wound margin

💭 peek at the thought

Bone-deep heat means it's in the joint space or tracking up the tendon sheath. Sea beet draws surface infection but it won't reach bone. We're past poultices. She needs the doxycycline and metronidazole in her system yesterday.

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

🌿 Jenny08:45

Okay.

Bite my lip and watch his hands work, the wind howling through the stone.

💭 peek at the thought

The resin will sting like hell but he's right to seal it off before the salt gets it worse. He's so clinical, it makes me feel small and broken.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin08:45

Going to burn. Hold still.

Pack the resin-laced poultice tight against the wound edges, wrap with clean gauze — firm but not cutting circulation — tape the ends, then press the cold pack from the bench against the outside of the ankle, hold it there

💭 peek at the thought

She's not flinching. Just watching. That's worse than if she cried out — means she's used to this kind of hurt. The resin'll sting going in but the turpenes are the only thing that'll slow bone-deep spread without IV antibiotics.

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

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