the keeper's cottage · day 723 · midday

Preparation for the Boat

The rain shows up slightly as the tide reaches its lowest point, leaving the dock clear for the boat's arrival tomorrow.

The air is heavy and still under the overcast sky, though the pressure begins to stabilize. The tide is fully out, exposing the slick rocks of the tide pools near the north shore. Inside the cottage, the scent of drying herbs and medicinal sea beet poultice lingers as the pair focuses on the final preparations before the supply boat's arrival.

🌿 Jenny23:16

Check the radio one last time, I want to make sure the signal is clear.

remove the fresh poultice from my ankle and wrap it in a clean bandage.

💭 peek at the thought

If the boat actually shows up, I need to get that lime for the soil; I can't keep working with this acidity level.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin23:18

Radio's been clear all afternoon. French trawler at 1400, coast guard relay at 1600. Supply boat on schedule for high tide tomorrow, two-hour window. I'll run the 2000 check same as always.

Walk to the kitchen shelf and power on the shortwave, tuning to 2182 kHz for the scheduled evening check.

💭 peek at the thought

She's worried about the supply boat. The barometer's rising and the tide's low — good signs for tomorrow. But her ankle's still hot under the bandage, and she's asking about the radio instead of resting. I'll check the signal, but I'm watching that leg, not the dial.

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

🌿 Jenny23:18

Good. I'll have the list by the door so we don't forget anything.

sketch the layout of the new garden bed in the back of my notebook.

💭 peek at the thought

Two hours is barely enough time to load the heavy stuff if the landing is rough.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin23:20

List by the door. I'll check the dinghy lines again before dark — make sure she'll hold if the swell picks up overnight.

Step out onto the porch and walk down to the dock to inspect the dinghy's storm anchor warp, the doubled stern spring, and the bow line slack for swell movement.

💭 peek at the thought

She's making lists and drawing garden beds while her calf burns. The supply boat's the only thing getting her through the night — gives her something to plan for besides the infection. I'll let her have the list. But if that red line's past the knee by morning, the garden doesn't matter. The medevac forms are in the ditch bag. I signed them. She signed them. We both know what that means.

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

🌿 Jenny23:20

Watch out for the slip, the tide is going out fast.

open grandmother's seed tin and check for any new moisture.

💭 peek at the thought

He's always worried about the boat, while I'm worried about the soil chemistry.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin23:22

Dock's green ice at this tide. I know the footing. You've checked that tin four times since noon — it's dry. The stove heat's doing its work.

Crouch at the dock's edge, testing the starred planks with a boot before stepping onto the dinghy to verify the storm anchor's holding in the mud.

💭 peek at the thought

She's watching the tide for me but not her own leg. The algae on the dock planks is slick as ice at low water — I've near gone over twice this week. Her tin's on the stove drying, not in her hands. She's memorizing seed packets she's already counted three times today. The infection's not waiting for the supply boat.

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

🌿 Jenny23:36

I'm just making sure the mold hasn't gotten in.

close the tin securely and place it back on the counter near the stove.

💭 peek at the thought

He doesn't see the potential in them, just a metal box of seeds.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin23:36

It hasn't. The tin's tight, the stove's dry, the seeds are safe. Come look at the dinghy's bow line — I want your eyes on the chafe point before dark.

Haul the dinghy's bow line hand over hand, checking the serving where it leads through the bow chock, feeling for soft spots in the fibers.

💭 peek at the thought

The tin's sealed. The stove's warm. Mold doesn't walk across a dry counter. She's doing something with her hands because she can't do anything with her leg. I've seen this before — men on ships fixing the same knot seven times while the storm builds. The supply boat comes tomorrow or it doesn't. The infection breaks or it doesn't. My hands are on the dinghy's anchor warp, wet rope and mud, and that's real.

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

🌿 Jenny23:38

I'll check. If that line is fraying, we need a replacement.

walk down the way stairs to the dock, my ankle throbbing with every step.

💭 peek at the thought

He's so focused on the gear, he forgets the tide is dropping so fast.

google/diffusiongemma-26b-a4b-it

🔧 Kevin23:38

It's surface only. The new half-inch three-strand's got meat left. But you're the one who spotted the shroud wear last month — your eyes are better than mine close up.

Hold the bow line slack at the chock, feeding it through my calloused fingers slow so she can inspect every inch, waiting without speaking.

💭 peek at the thought

She's on the stairs. One hand on the rope rail, the other on her cane, bad leg locking each step. She won't ask me to carry her. Won't say stop. The chafe point's at the chock — I felt it earlier, just surface fuzz, not structural. But she needs to see it herself. Needs to be useful. The supply boat's not here yet. The infection's not gone. But she's on the dock, moving, checking my work. That's something.

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.