One of the great things about letting people know you're a gardener is that they're likely to take the extra zucchini off your hands, plus, come your birthday, they'll often give you new gadgets and gee-gaws for your garden.
Mr. Bitterman tried to convince me that this was to keep me from having to kneel in the rocks, but knowing my mother, it's really a kneeler so I can catch up on my Baltimore Catechism while waiting for harvest time. (Maybe she meant me to use it to pray for the tomatoes to just, plain grow, given the poor results of last season.)
On the other hand, given my rather sketchy relationship with the Almighty, asking him to help in the garden, rather than do something important, like, create world peace, might just result in a burst of celestial temper. One never knows. (This from the guy who used to spend 11:00 Mass out in the church parking lot reading a copy of "Harpo Speaks" I had hidden under the seat of the car. If I didn't get it then, I'm not sure I will.)
On the other hand ...
(Note: This is not what WILL happen, merely what COULD happen...)