There is sense of hope and optimism needed for planting asparagus and rhubarb. 
It takes a good four years to begin getting a decent harvest and so much can happen in that space of time. How many times in my life have I planted these perennials full of certainty that succulent spears and a tart crumble would grace my spring dinner table only to regretfully leave these plants behind hoping new owners would nurture them?
Almost too many to count. I have room in my garden yet hesitate, my faith in permanence wavering.
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My mother grew up in the apple country around Lake Chelan, and used to tell me stories of how the asparagus grows wild in the orchards, and of her dad collecting the spears when they were only about as big as those in your picture, and how much better they were than the big woody things you find in the grocery.
Last March, I finally made it off the waiting list for a permanent plot at the Picardo p-patch and began making plans to start an asparagus bed. Steve Solomon’s book strongly advocates starting it from seed, rather than crowns, for several reasons, and the seeds are sown in January.
My mom fell ill in the last week of October and, once in the hospital, it was discovered that she had metastatic cancer. She died less than a week later. The asparagus will be bitter for me for the first few years, because I wanted to share it with her, but I am going ahead and planting it just as soon as my seed order arrives.
Wendy,
What a beautiful story. I’m happy to hear that you have a patch at Picardo and planting asparagus sounds like a wonderful way to honor your mother. Good luck to you.