Waiting for Asparagus

Posted on by Rita Sommers-Flanagan

On my belly, eye-level with thistles, there’s no sign of asparagus emerging. But this will change as the days lengthen and the rains come. For decades, I’ve made compelling requests of this ancient asparagus patch, and it has done what it can to save me. This has less to do with faith than with remembering and waiting. There are forces at work; we are at their mercy.

Waiting for Bats

Some years ago, on Father’s Day, we hung a double-chamber bat house on the warm side of our home. So far, no bats have moved in. We had hoped that they would take up residence and eat mosquitoes. Instead, a pair of robins have built a nest on top of the box, and their droppings trail down the side of the darkly stained cedar.

Waiting for Redemption

An ominous enlightenment is stirring offstage. Twice, it has missed its cue. It is an enraged bull, pawing the ground, spewing snot and indignation. It is a rusting toy. It doesn’t like its assigned role. It wants to rewrite the script.

Waiting for the Answer

This morning, I texted The Gods three times, begging for alternatives, biting back tirades and justifications. Silence is the hardest answer to accept. I left an offering at the edge of a slash pile and imagined the thick smoke bellowing skyward, hiding their thin defenses.

Waiting for the Raucous Conclusion

There are animals, wild and otherwise, who will outlive me, but there are others who will not. In fact, I will eat some before this day is done. If I were a hunter, I would make sure I had a clean shot. Then I would give thanks, waving one hand over the lifeless body, raising the other in gratitude. Hand to mouth. Heart to ashes. Dust to dust.

6 thoughts on “Waiting for Asparagus”

  2. Ah, I love this, great post! It reminds me of a recent experience at the annual British Asparagus Festival—a celebration of all things green and stalky. Imagine my excitement when I misread the event listing and thought it said “Brittany ‘Spears’ would be performing.” I pictured an outdoor concert, fans screaming, and Britney belting out “Toxic” in a field of asparagus.

    Reality hit hard when I arrived, not to the electrifying beats of pop royalty, but to the gentle rustle of asparagus being celebrated in its full verdant glory. Instead of backup dancers, there were farmers in wellies discussing the merits of sandy soil. The only “toxic” element was the overenthusiastic use of fertilizer.

    I stayed, of course, and learned more about asparagus than I ever thought possible. There was an asparagus cook-off, asparagus eating contests, and even an asparagus-themed hat competition. By the end of the day, I was crowned the accidental Asparagus Queen, having impressed the locals with my impromptu dance to “Oops!… I Did It Again” on the back of a tractor.

    So, while I didn’t get the concert I expected, I left with a newfound appreciation for the vegetable world and a year’s supply of asparagus recipes. Note to self: next time, double-check the event listing!

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