A/N: I was randomly inspired tonight (let's just say the bathtub is a great place to get ideas!). Hopefully this means I'm coming back from my hiatus.

Reviews are appreciated!

Four gold medals hung heavily around Petunia's neck as local newspaper photographers snapped pictures of her and her prize-winning vegetables. Like the past five years she competed in the Surrey Garden Club Vegetable Contest, she won every category she entered—Sweetest Summer Squash, Rarest Heirloom Tomato, Hardiest Asparagus, and the most coveted prize, Surrey's Top Gardener. She beamed to the eager photographers as fellow Garden Club members clapped politely behind them. Maybe next year she could enter all ten categories and sweep the whole show.

As the photographers packed up, someone approached Petunia from behind. "I just wanted to say congratulations again. I'm always delighted to see the young ones blossom into talented gardeners." It was Marjorie Miller, an old, chatty Garden Club member who had entered the contest every year for the past 40 years. She hadn't won a single award since Petunia began competing, or at least that's what Linda Grey told her. Petunia smiled coyly, knowing Marjorie's hidden jealousy.

"So, how do you do it?" Marjorie asked. "Which brand of fertilizer do you use? Do you compost? Lake water is supposed to make squash tastier, I'm sure you know."

Petunia shrugged. "My father taught me everything I know. We Evanses always say that we don't have a green thumb, but a green hand."

"More like a magic hand," Marjorie scoffed. "Just look at it all!"

Petunia held up her right hand, staring between her fingertips around the contest room. Her squash was noticeably larger and yellower than her competitors', whose vegetables looked pallid by comparison. Her ridged chocolate-colored tomato was unlike anything the judges had seen before. Her asparagus, even after hours under the harsh, fluorescent light, had not wilted whatsoever. While the other shoots were drooping, shriveling, or turning brown, Petunia's looked like it had been just picked—deeply green, dewy, and tall.

"Don't be silly," she said, uneasily closing her hand into a fist. "You know there's no such thing as magic."