It was a tune stuck in her head.
Jacqui decides she must hum it aloud while she did the work.

Mary Mary, Quite Contrary,
How does your garden grow?

Well hell, I don't know the rest. What is the rest?

The scene was set, a dilapidated two story house set in the woods. A creek to the side, a winding drive cut with gravel. Jacqui herself was digging at the ground, a garden set with tomatoes, squash, cucumber, some herbs. All just a patchwork of green barely poking out of the dirt now, but someday, it'll be more. Fresh white chrysanthemum were receiving special attention at the spot closest to the drive.

Jacqui herself was planning the work for the day.

Amelita's at work, which is fine. God it's weird to have money... Glad I got the tools. Hang boards to reinforce the window frames. I'll have to get paint sometime. Doublecheck the sun proofing upstairs.

All the while Jacqui herself continues digging at the garden, pulling at little growths of green an experts eye would note didn't belong among the other bits of leaves. Weeding.

Hmm I should grow some pot for cash, maybe. No. Not now. Yet. Whichever. I should prep for that.

She smiles to herself as she spots an ant crawling around the tilled soil.

"Hello" she says at the ant. "You and yours can have whatever you want out of this garden, so long as it's here. I'll work on it, keep it growing, so on. Please, protect the flowers for me though, and keep an eye on the building there."

Jacqui knows that the message will be carried to the colony, and maybe even executed. It didn't matter really, she'd check on them when she saw them in the garden anyways. It just made her happy to have someone to talk with Amelita at work.

Jacqui began humming again

Mary Mary Quite Contrary,
How Does Your Garden Grow?
With daily sweat, the gardens wet,
and fruits do begin to sow?

Ehh, not too good. I can work on it.

Jacqui herself continues on in the garden, moving on to plugging a hose into a faucet off the side of the foundation, and with a creeking and sound of groaning pipes water begins to flow. She blocks most of the tip of the hose with a thumb to create a spray, and starts watering the garden in the early night. At this point the low hanging dust thats gathered begins cloying to her clothing, creating the working girl sheen she was ambivalent to, admired, and occasionally dusted off.

I should plant an orchard.

Wait, what in the hell am I thinking? I should make someone else plant an orchard. That's a shit load of work, and I want some tree's that can produce. I don't want to plant saplings.

Jacqui hums again.

Mary Mary, Quite Contrary,
How Does Your Garden Grow?
With Many Backs, Who Seldom Relax,
The Fruits Do Begin to Show.

Ehh, it's still a horrible poem. I should keep working on it though. It's not a bad idea. I could use some help around here.