Next, she made sure to carefully sprinkle water on her precious sprouts. This would freeze the droplets of water now resting on the plant's tiny and new leaves, which would make the warmth of the water seep into the plant. This would keep the plants from freezing from their insides in the cold, and Skye had to admit that she had her mother to thank for that trick. She did it every winter with her own plants, and had taught Skye how and why she had to do that; it was so the plants wouldn't die. She especially liked doing it with new crops in the winter; she would plant new seeds smack-dab in the middle of the cold months. Skye would ask her why, and she said that if they learned to grow up in the cold and frigid atmosphere, the spring and winter would be even more productive on them than usual, and they'd grow twice the amount.
Skye took her mother's advice and had planted her own plants in the winter, spraying them and putting peels on them just as she had done with her mother when she helped in the garden. The garden helped her think. The garden helped her put her worries aside, and as she spread peels and sprayed the garden with water to keep them from freezing, she also spoke to them.
Her mother said that if she talked to the plants, they would grow better; once, she had had two gardens: one of them she talked to every day while watering them the same water and giving them the same amount of peels as the other, which she didn't talk to at all. She would refuse to talk to Skye if she were helping her with the garden that she didn't talk to; she wanted a completely unbiased opinion. She had soon learned that if you talked to your plants, if you talked to them and encouraged them to grow, they would grow much faster and better than if you just treated them like inanimate objects that didn't matter. The garden that she and Skye talked to grew fast and strong, and the one that they didn't talk to grew as well, but not as bright and green and full as the ones that had the words spoken to them day by day.
So Skye talked to the plants. "You're beautiful plants, good plants, good and strong," she said while spraying them and stroking their green yet tender leaves. "You're going to grow up big and strong, and you're going to help the whole pack. Did you know that? Yes, you're going to grow up big and strong and you're going to be the best plants you can be." She knelt down in front of her garden, now talking to the plants since she had finished giving them the food and water and cleared away as much snow as she could. "You're all great plants that one day will grow up big and strong. You know you are, and don't try to tell me you're not." They didn't. "Good. Because if I thought you didn't think you were the best you could be, which you are, then I'd just have to talk to you some more. You're the best plants out there, and you're going to grow for me. Okay, plants? Okay, my sprouts?"
The words she spoke didn't matter, her mother had told her. It was the way she said them, and she said them with reassurance and gentle care and love. Yes, love. She loved her plants, the fruits of her creation, her dear flowers and berries and sprouts that would grow into all these things. She loved them, and so she told them she loved them. She wanted them to grow big and strong - Skye loved gardening, everyone in the pack knew that by now. She loved gardening and she never, ever wanted to give it up - even if by some horrible chance they all died, she would get more of the berries and start again, giving them the same love she would always have for her precious garden.
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