Sassafras and I smooshed our noses against the window, staring at the never-ending snowstorm, when the kitchen timer went off. We dashed into the kitchen, eager to see what had happened to our potato slices. Sassafras was so curious, he even jumped on the counter to see.
“Sassafras!” my mom scolded as she joined us.
Sassafras lowered his head and jumped back down.
I picked up the potato slice that was in plain water first and bent down to show him. He took a sniff but leaped backward as a water drop fell from the potato.
“It feels the same, I think,” I gave it a poke. “Maybe a little stronger? It seems harder to bend now.”
Mom nodded.
Next I plunged my hand into the salty water. My fingers touched the potato slice, and I made a face. I pulled it out and knelt down. “This one is gross, Sassafras.”
I wiggled it between my hands to show him. “It feels rubbery.” I looked up at Mom. “What does that mean?”
“Things like to be equal when they can,” she said as she sat down at our kitchen table. She picked up the saltwater potato slice. “More salt was outside the potato than inside the potato itself. To even out the saltiness, water moved out of the potato. But only a little water has moved out so far. We’ll leave it overnight, and you’ll see a big difference tomorrow morning. Water will keep moving out of the potato to make the saltiness more equal.”
I picked up the plain water potato slice. “So this one was pretty even already? That’s why the water didn’t have to move a bunch here?”
Mom nodded. “So, can you figure out what saltwater might do to a whole plant?”
I poked the rubbery potato slice as I thought out loud.
“If there’s salt around a plant, and plants try to make things even by moving water . . . that means . . .” I gasped. Oh no.
“What’s wrong, honey?”
I looked down at my feet. “I, um, made a mistake, Mom. With the caterflies. I dumped a ton of salt on the ice to make it melt faster. I was worried about the eggs freezing!” I slowly picked up the rubbery potato slice. “Will the catnip host plants look like this tomorrow? Because if they do . . . what are the baby caterflies going to eat once they hatch?”
Mom rubbed my back. “Oh, honey. We all make mistakes. You never know, the salt might not have made it very far. We’ll have to wait and see. Try to take your mind off it. Whatever’s happened, we’ll figure it out tomorrow.”
I felt like tomorrow would take forever to get here! Maybe Mom was right and I should keep myself busy so I wouldn’t worry as much. While Mom made hot cocoa, I grabbed my science journal and decided I’d write down everything I’d learned about the caterflies so far:
Then I added all the caterfly things I still wondered about:
As I wrote and sipped hot cocoa with Sassafras purring in my lap, I felt a little better. Maybe the plants wouldn’t be as bad as the potato after all.