As a child growing up on a farm, the ditch banks where I lived were abundant with asparagus that grew wild. Everyday from May thru early July, all my mother had to do was mention asparagus and I was out the door with a small knife in hand. I considered myself one of the best pickers on the flats (flat farmlands west of Salt Lake Valley). I became a great huntress spotting the green feathery bush along the roadside and field edges with its young sprouts ready for picking in all sizes and maturity. We took everything.
If the bush was ravished (already picked), we knew others had beat us to it. This made us even more vigilant going out every few days, to bring home the green goods for dinner. Funny thing is, I didn't like to eat asparagus. I just loved picking it. Eventually I matured and became a lover of the now nonexistent wild, premium vegetable. Years later driving to my daughters elementary school, I spied an asparagus bush, pulled over and picked all the shoots for my own dinner.
Now I must be satisfied with the grocery store thick stock variety, that will never hold a candle to finding it in the wild and eating it fresh for dinner the same day.
If the bush was ravished (already picked), we knew others had beat us to it. This made us even more vigilant going out every few days, to bring home the green goods for dinner. Funny thing is, I didn't like to eat asparagus. I just loved picking it. Eventually I matured and became a lover of the now nonexistent wild, premium vegetable. Years later driving to my daughters elementary school, I spied an asparagus bush, pulled over and picked all the shoots for my own dinner.
Now I must be satisfied with the grocery store thick stock variety, that will never hold a candle to finding it in the wild and eating it fresh for dinner the same day.
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