My thumbs are clean.
Neither is green nor any other color than my flesh color.
I am not special.
I have weeds and mostly grass in my front flower beds.
There are new buds on my hydrangeas.
The daisy plants have multiplied.
Old dusty miller plants are budding from the ground.
Blooming yellow jonquils just mysteriously appear on compost heaps.
Our "homegrown" boxwoods looked golden and sad all winter, but now they are "fresh green."
My garden chair sinks into the muddy earth as I lean over to pull the meandering grass where it does not belong.
Garlic plants surprise me in a deserted raised veggie bed.
The over-mature yellow turnips hide Dutch field lettuce that I seeded last October.
Dutch endive grows heartily between the un-named weeds.
Lemon balm creeps down the busy veggie bed and over the garden path.
My favorite salad green the arugula grows and flowers and grows and flowers.
Five year old asparagus plants wait patiently for sunnier days and warmer soil.
The rich soil with a layer of decayed rice hulls is ready to grow.
Whatever I want it to grow!