The last blog post is a photo of asparagus from my garden. I planted it the year before last, and this is the first year that I’ve felt like it is coming in well enough to harvest. I’ve sautéed a few bunches, and it has been quite good—flavorful and tender. I have had quite a few gardening flops, but this isn’t one of them.
Kim doesn’t seem to react this way, nor does anyone else I know, but I find asparagus comical. Every other thing in my garden starts as a seedling or a sprout that I have to wait on to develop, or I have to wait for it to grow fruit to pick, or to grow enough leaves to snip off. But asparagus gives me the goofy impression that there is a tiny guy hiding under the soil with a bundle of full-grown asparagus spears under his arm, and he keeps reaching up and poking them through the soil for me to pick.