Green with Envy

I have a confession to make.

I'm green with envy.

Garden green, that is.

I love, Love, LOVE the vegetable garden at Colonial Williamsburg. Well, I just love Colonial Williamsburg, but that's a whole 'nother post. . .
When I picture the perfect garden in my head, this is exactly what I see.

Perfect, weedless rows tucked into nearly coal-black fertile soil.

I know Colonial Williamsburg tries to keep everything as period-authentic as possible. I'm pretty sure they're organic, but not sure if they're certified as such. They have paid horticulturalists who ply their expertise on these perfectly-crafted gardens all year long, but I still can't help but think that they use some kind of super fertilizer or weed killer. I mean seriously, their produce almost looks too good to eat. How does one achieve this perfect-ness?

Next spring will be my 4th year gardening (well, so long as you don't count the several years that I tried to grow pumpkins and gourds over in a hilly, rooty, shady patch at our old house). I always considered myself as having a brown thumb. A wilted brown thumb at that. Probably should consider it more like a black thumb. . . But moving to the farm 7 years ago and becoming a farmer's wife somehow brought out my dormant gardener.

Now, every year I have good intentions of growing a successful, gorgeous garden like the ones I've seen at Williamsburg, like the ones that The Husband's Grandpa grew before we took over.

Bo and I planting carrots last March. Barefoot, of course, 'cause G-Pa says that's the secret to gardening. ;)

I'm sure he's looking down on us, slapping his knee and getting a rather hearty chuckle at our attempts.

I've come up with pretty good excuses over the years: being pregnant and 1/2 a mile away, and then once we moved over here it was having an infant, the drought, going it alone while The Husband was deployed. . . They all sound like legit reasons why my rows are never straight, the garden doesn't get watered as often as it should, and the weeds and bugs eventually take over and choke the life out of my plants. . .

(July) Here the garden doesn't look as bad as it eventually got, but you get the idea of how quickly it gets away from me.

But no more. No more excuses. This year The Husband will be home, the kids are old enough to help out or at least entertain themselves while I work, and I'll be 4 years wiser.

Sounds good.

Right?

Then again. . . a little winter reading couldn't hurt. . .

(All Colonial Williamsburg garden photos courtesy of Colonial Williamsburg)