Some people just seem to have the gift of a green thumb--although I have come to the conclusion that a lot of the "green thumbness" is about simply being willing to get one's fingers dirty and plant a garden. 
Today Hannah and I spent a couple hours up at our friend's garden hoeing, planting, and mulching--
because basically, if you sow, you reap.
Therefore, if you want green beans, corn, beets, or zucchini, you probably should get outside, till the garden, buy seeds, and hoe rows to plant.
Or you plant perennials like rhubarb, asparagus, and mint, and tend, fertilize, and water them so that they abound each year.
Otherwise, the most likely thing that will happen is that you will have to purchase your vegetables at the produce section of Walmart or King Sooper or WinCo or some other grocery chain store.
I am not so sure that a lush garden is about having a green thumb so much as about simply doing the work.
Our friend Mathel has a beautiful garden every year, but this year, after cancer surgery on both herself and her husband last year, she just isn't able to have much of a garden. That meant we decided to step up to help her, and she allowed us to have the bigger part of her garden to plant ourselves.
While Danny tilled for her a few weeks ago, I went around admiring the fruit tree blossoms and caught this scene of him tilling in the background with the cherry blossoms in the foreground. I can't get enough of the beauty around Mathel's humble little home. She shows me the newest blooming (or about-to-bloom plant or flower each time I go, from tulips and grape hyacinths to hen-and-chicks or peonies or bleeding heart bush that she thought died last year but has resurrected.
I stood by helping and watching every detail to see how she did things. Did this lady with a green thumb plant each tiny carrot seed lovingly an inch apart? No, she scattered the carrot seeds and had it done in a matter of less than a minute. She didn't act loving or fond of the seeds or the soil; she didn't coo or sing to the plants (as I've heard of some people doing in their greenhouses, more power to them).
She just got out there and got the job done. Then while we planted our part of the garden, she pruned the suckers coming up around the fruit tree or bush. Those things don't produce fruit; they just suck the energy out of the real, fruit-bearing branches of the tree.
So they had to go!
Snip! Snap! And they were gone.
Here was a strawberry blossom on one of her three strawberry plants at the far end of the garden, a token of stillness and beauty in the middle of a boisterous and stormy world.
And today, this lady minus a green thumb but boasting dirty fingers, felt a gamut of emotions as I gardened and watched.
So many memories flooding back of gardening back when I was a teenager and in my 20's at home.
And then I stood, with emotions tangling, just feeling the peace of being out in nature, in the middle of a garden, watching the robins coming to search for worms, and feeling a closeness to God that I hadn't felt in a long time.
Does God draw near to dirty fingers minus a green thumb,
when we don't sense a gift inside us for what we are doing but just get busy and do it the best we can?
Does He meet us in an unexpected garden in the middle of the soggy mulch we are spreading and the holes we are digging for tomato plants?
Lord, bless every dirty finger today that gets out and plants good, life-giving seeds of whatever kind whether it be garden plants or kindness or love or encouragement.
And turn those dirty fingers into green thumbs!
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