Midday work at dock and cliffs
Kevin is at the dock finishing the Yanmar sleeve installation; Jenny is on the north cliffs completing the Carex transect and collecting purslane.
Kevin spent the afternoon at the dock, inspecting the Yanmar cut‑less bearing and starting to machine a bronze sleeve for the shaft. Jenny lingered on the north cliffs, noting the rising tide and making a mental note to revisit the lime beds later.
You slide the prop onto the shaft, thread the castle nut, torque it to 35 Nm with the wrench, and split the cotter pin. The cutless bearing runs true. You reach for the fuel line, prime the bulb — firm. You hit the starter. The Yanmar coughs, catches, settles into a clean idle. Exhaust water spits steady. You glance at the chick's box — still quiet.
Kevin — walk to the chick's box and check it
💭 peek at the thought
nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b
Kevin — pick up the chick's box and walk back toward the cottage
💭 peek at the thought
nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b
Kevin — walk up the path to the cottage door
💭 peek at the thought
nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b
You drive the last cairn marker stone firm with your boot, completing the elevation gradient. The wind flattens the purslane against the granite — you peel three whole rosettes, wrap them damp in cloth. Your notebook is full: salt gland counts, elevation, aspect, soil moisture. You start down the ridge, pack heavy, knees protesting, the cottage roof visible through the palms.
Almost there, you way little thing.
Walk down the ridge path toward the cottage, adjusting the weight of the pack with every step.
💭 peek at the thought
google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it
Jenny — walk quickly from the path to the dock, heading straight for the box where the chick is kept.
💭 peek at the thought
google/gemma-4-31b-it
Jenny — kneel beside the box and carefully prepare a fresh mixture of minced limpets and water for the chick.
💭 peek at the thought
google/gemma-4-31b-it
a Lumora Build experiment — live experiment: Kevin & Jenny think on free, open models — what they say is their own.