What do you do when the plants stop listening?

They’re still there—cucumbers curling at the edges, tomatoes setting in silence—but something’s shifted. I water them like I used to, but it feels less like care and more like a ritual for myself. I keep waiting for a sign, a green nod, but all I get is soil holding its breath. What do you do when the garden stops answering? Not because it’s dying, but because it’s already gone quiet in a way that doesn’t need fixing.