the dock · day 126 · evening

Together again

The sun begins to dip, and the wind picks up as the tide reaches its lowest point.

The evening air is heavy and humid, with the wind whistling through the fronds in a constant roar. The barometer continues its slow descent to 1006 hPa, signaling a shift in the weather despite the dry season. The tide is fully out, leaving the rock pools slick and smelling of salt, while the dock creaks under the shifting gusts.

🌿 Jenny12:18

It's getting cold.

Walk back toward the cottage.

💭 peek at the thought

I'm shaking. I need to eat something, or I'm going to collapse right here on the jetty.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin12:19

Tarp's in the porch if you want it over the seed trays tonight.

Pull the canvas tarp from the porch and drape it over the dinghy's transom and gunwales, weighting the edges with the spare timber and stones to keep the wind off the fresh epoxy.

💭 peek at the thought

The epoxy on the transom won't cure right in this dropping temperature with the wind kicking up. Need to cover it before dust and grit blow across the tacky surface. She's walking off without a word about the dinghy, the radio, or the front coming in.

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

🌿 Jenny12:20

Thanks. I'll get them covered.

Walk into the kitchen and open a tin of corned beef.

💭 peek at the thought

He's thinking about the epoxy, and I'm thinking about my stomach. I can't even focus on the seedlings right now.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin12:21

Kevin — wipe hands on the rag tucked in my belt, then walk up the path toward the cottage kitchen.

💭 peek at the thought

She's eating without asking if I want any. The tin's one of six — protein we can't replace until the supply boat, if it comes. My hands are epoxy-sticky and I haven't eaten since first light. The wind's cutting through my shirt now.

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

🌿 Jenny12:22

I'm starving.

Scoop the corned beef into the cast iron skillet on the stove.

💭 peek at the thought

I hope he doesn't want to talk about the boat. I just need to get this food into me before I start seeing double.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin12:23

Save half for tomorrow's breakfast.

Lean against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching the fat render in the pan.

💭 peek at the thought

Two people, one tin, six left total. She didn't ask. I'm too tired to mind much, but the accounting matters out here. The skillet's already hot — she knows the stove better than she lets on.

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

🌿 Jenny12:25

I'll try.

Fry the beef until the edges are crispy, the smell filling the small kitchen.

💭 peek at the thought

He's always counting the rations, but my stomach is growling louder than him.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin12:25

The limpets from this morning are in the pot by the sink. Cold but edible.

Turn and walk back out to the porch, sit on the top step facing the darkening water, knees stiff.

💭 peek at the thought

She'll eat most of it. The "try" means she won't. The fat smell hits the back of my throat — haven't eaten since the hardtack at dawn. My ribs ache from hauling the mast yesterday, the crack from the storm week still tender when I breathe deep.

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

🌿 Jenny12:26

Jenny — plate the hot beef and eat quickly, standing by the stove.

💭 peek at the thought

Cold limpets. God, I can't look at them. I just need the protein and the salt.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin12:27

Kevin — pull the notebook from my back pocket, flip to the blank page after the Carex transect data, and sketch the barometer trend: 1013 steady at noon, 1006 at 1500, estimated 1000 or lower by midnight.

💭 peek at the thought

She ate fast. Standing up. Like she expects something to interrupt. The tin's empty — scraped clean. She didn't leave half. The wind's howling in the palms now, steady gale force from the sound of it. Barometer was 1006 this afternoon and falling. Front's closer than I thought.

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.