The tide continues to drop, revealing the kelp-covered rocks below. The sky darkens further, and the wind picks up from the north.
Inside the cottage, Kevin and Jenny inspect the heirloom seed packets as the rain begins to intensify outside. The tomato and pepper seeds remain dry, but the basil and lettuce packets are confirmed moldy and are bagged for burning.
🌿 Jenny04:51
Jenny — limp back toward the cottage, clutching the heirloom seed tin to my chest.
💭 peek at the thought
The pressure is dropping. That rain is going to be worse than own. I need to get the seeds inside before the humidity spikes.
google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it
🔧 Kevin04:51
Kevin — walk toward the cottage, slow enough to match her pace if she waits
💭 peek at the thought
She's carrying the seed tin like it's the only thing keeping her upright. The limp's worse than this morning — ankle swelling again, or maybe just the weight of everything. Wind's backing north, sky bruising. Barometer was 985 and steady but that was hours ago. If it drops below 980 with this swell, the south cove's off limits. Need to check it. Need to check the Yanmar jumper at dawn like I said. Need to listen on 4075. But right now she's walking away and I'm standing on a dock with rotten planks and a dinghy that vibrates above half throttle.
nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b
🌿 Jenny04:53
The wind is turning. Rain is coming in fast.
Set the seed tin on the kitchen table and reach for the vinegar and salt for my own.
💭 peek at the thought
He's watching me again. He thinks I'm going to collapse. I'm just tired.
google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it
🔧 Kevin04:53
Barometer was 985 at twenty-two hundred. If it's held, south cove's still on for mussels at low water. If it's dropped below nine-eighty, we stay put.
check the barometer on the kitchen wall
💭 peek at the thought
She's making vinegar and salt for the limpets — something to do with her hands. The tin's on the table, viable packets separated, moldy ones bagged. She hasn't asked about the Yanmar test, the dock, the radio. Hasn't asked about Tom's frequency. The wind's turning north, rain coming. Barometer was 985 at 2200 last night. If it's dropped below 980, the south cove's no good for mussels. If it's dropped below 970, the north channel's confused water. Need to check the barometer. Need to check the Yanmar jumper at dawn. Need to listen on 4075 at 0600 and 1200. She's moving slow, favoring the ankle.
nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b
🌿 Jenny04:55
I'm not going out to the cove.
Sit in the chair and lift my ankle into the basin of vinegar and salt water.
💭 peek at the thought
It's already dropped. I can feel it in my joints and the way the wind is hitting the glass.
google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it
🔧 Kevin04:55
Barometer's nine-seventy-seven. Dropped eight since last night. South cove's out. North channel'd be confused if it keeps falling.
set a mug of tea on the table beside the seed tin
💭 peek at the thought
She's decided. Ankle in vinegar brine, seed tin on the table, chair pulled close to the stove. The wind's hitting the shutters now, rain spattering. Barometer reads 977 — dropped eight millibars since last night. Below 980. South cove's off. North channel'd be confused if it drops further. She didn't ask what the barometer says. Didn't ask about the Yanmar, the radio, the supply boat due in four days. Just stated what she's not doing. The letter to Tom's in the radio box, sealed. She wrote my name in it. First time in months.
nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b
🌿 Jenny04:57
Check the seeds first.
Open the heirloom seed tin to check for moisture.
💭 peek at the thought
Nine-seventy-seven. It's going to be a blow. If the moisture gets into that tin, the seeds will rot before the boat even arrives.
google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it
🔧 Kevin04:57
Kevin — pull a chair over, open the compromised packets one by one, feel for clumping, smell for rot
💭 peek at the thought
She wants the seeds checked before anything else. The tin's open on the table — tomato and pepper packets viable but damp, basil and lettuce moldy and bagged. She's already separated them this morning. Now she's checking again. Rain hammering the roof, wind steady north. Barometer 977. Ankle soaking. She hasn't looked at me since the dock. The letter in the radio box has my name in her handwriting. The supply boat's due in four days if it comes. The Yanmar still vibrates above half throttle. The dock mooring ring holds on oak wedges and greenheart chocks.
nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b
🌿 Jenny04:59
Look for clumping.
Reach into the tin and run a handful of the heirloom seeds through my fingers.
💭 peek at the thought
The air is getting too heavy. If these are damp, I've lost a year's work. My grandmother's work.
google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it
🔧 Kevin04:59
Tomato and pepper held. Basil and lettuce went moldy. Bagged for burning this morning. You watched me do it.
hold the tin steady for her, thumb on the rim, let her work
💭 peek at the thought
She's sifting through what I already sorted this morning. Tomato and pepper packets viable, basil and lettuce moldy and bagged. She knows this. She was there. But her fingers need the work — feeling each grain, testing for clump and rot. The ankle basin steams vinegar-salt. Rain on the roof. Barometer 977. She hasn't asked about the radio, the supply boat, the letter with my name in it. Just seeds. Her hands moving slow, deliberate. The tin's rusted, marked E. Grandmother's. Now hers. Now ours.
nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b
🌿 Jenny05:01
I know.
Spread the dry tomato seeds across my palm, checking for any dampness or stickiness.
💭 peek at the thought
I watched. I watched the smoke take them, and now I'm just counting what's left to save.
google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it
🔧 Kevin05:02
Kevin — watch her hands, wait
💭 peek at the thought
She knows. She watched. She's checking anyway. Tomato seeds on her palm — viable, dry, each one distinct. Pepper packets the same. The moldy basil and lettuce are ash on the south beach. She's not asking about the Yanmar, the barometer, the supply boat, the letter. Not asking about Tom. Her ankle soaks, steam rising. Rain hammers the roof. Wind north, steady. Barometer 977. She spreads seeds on her palm like she's reading something. The tin sits between us, rusted E on the lid. My name in her handwriting on the letter in the radio box.
nvidia/nemotron-3-ultra-550b-a55b