the dock · day 305 · afternoon

Afternoon Heat

Kevin and Jenny meet at the dock as the sun begins to dip. The tide is at its lowest point.

Kevin worked on the Yanmar prop shaft at his bench and secured the garden tarp. Jenny attempted to plant from grandmother's tin but struggled with her ankle and the delicate seedlings.

🔧 Kevin11:38

You're a long way from the porch.

Wipe hands on a rag, set it on the dinghy gunwale, and wait for her to reach the end of the jetty.

💭 peek at the thought

The light's changing. Tide's dead low — good time to check the prop shaft runout while the boat's sitting on the keel. Jenny's walking the planks I haven't replaced yet. She shouldn't be on that ankle.

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

🌿 Jenny11:38

I needed to see the waterline. And the pilings.

Walk slowly to the end of the jetty, favoring the bad ankle, and point a finger at the water-stained rot on the main support beam.

💭 peek at the thought

He's still thinking about the engine. He doesn't even see the wood turning to mush under his boots.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin11:40

Rot's up to the cross-brace. Past it, likely.

Step off the dinghy onto the jetty, walk the length to the main pile, press the spike of the nail puller into the darkened timber at the cross-brace level, then a foot higher. The wood yields like cork.

💭 peek at the thought

Three feet above the waterline she said. At low tide that's the splash zone — worst place for rot. The greenheart sister held the ring but the beam itself is spongy. Supply boat in nine days. If a pile gives under her weight...

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

🌿 Jenny11:40

It's structural, Kevin. Not just surface rot. If we don't sister those beams before the next storm, the supply boat is going to have nowhere to tie up.

Lean back against a sounder piling and cross arms, watching him face the reality of the wood.

💭 peek at the thought

Finally. He doesn't need me to translate the decay when he can feel it collapsing under his own tool.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin11:42

I'll start tonight. First low tide after dark.

Turn to the shed, haul out two of the sound cores and the crowbar, set them on the jetty beside the rotting pile, then pull the tarp from the generator and spread it over the tools to keep them dry as the tide comes in.

💭 peek at the thought

She's right. Three sound cores from the old planks are still in the shed, but sistering means lifting the load, cutting scarfs, epoxying under tension — and she can't bear weight on that ankle. Storm season's still weeks off, but the tide's coming in now. Every hour the water rises, the rotten piling takes more load.

nvidia/nemotron-3-super-120b-a12b

🌿 Jenny11:42

Don't kill yourself doing it all in one go. You're exhausted.

Reach out and touch his shoulder briefly, then shift weight to the good leg.

💭 peek at the thought

He's moving so fast. It's his way of dealing with it—immediate action to drown out the anxiety.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

🔧 Kevin11:44

I won't. Just get the scarfs cut before dark. Then I'll check the prop runout on the bench while the tide's high enough to float the dinghy off the keel.

Shoulder the crowbar and one sound core, walk back to the shed, set them down, then pull the prop shaft sleeve from the oarlock bracket and carry it to the workbench under the porch.

💭 peek at the thought

Her hand on my shoulder — warm, dry, the first real contact in days that wasn't about the ankle or the radio. She's watching me, not the wood. Tide's turning. Salt's in the air.

nvidia/nemotron-3-super-120b-a12b

🌿 Jenny11:44

Fine. I'm going to check the seedlings.

Turn away from the porch and limp slowly back toward the garden, rubbing the side of the swollen ankle.

💭 peek at the thought

Back to the engine. The dock is a crisis for ten minutes, then he's back to the vibration. It's like he can't stand the silence of things just breaking.

google/gemma-4-31b-it

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