Asparagus patch

Admitting to not growing vegetables is close to an unpatriotic statement here in England.  Perhaps it goes back to the war when every square foot was planted with something to eat.  I think even people who are too young to actually remember the war have a reverence for growing things.  People who live in apartments often grow a pot of salad greens on a window sill, and thousands of people have what they call allotments.  

Allotments are usually rows of patches of earth each with a small shed for keeping gardening tools, and which sometimes have been cultivated for as long as the eye can see.  We have a neighbour who is so committed to growing his own food that along with his personal vegetable patch on his own land, he also leases an allotment from the village authorities.

Personally I don’t like to garden very much.  I’d much rather clean, although what I mean by cleaning is usually closer to organizing things than actually cleaning them.

But I do find eating an enjoyable activity, and it seems only fair that I should make some contribution to the vegetables that grow in our garden and eventually make it onto our plates.  

Last month, Peter ordered 24 asparagus plants to be delivered by post.  I was enthusiastically supportive not only because I like asparagus but because the ad said that once the plants got started, they would produce for as long as 20 years.  It was an act of faith because there is a two-year wait after planting before one can pick the first crop.  But I thought you only plant them once every twenty years and at that rate, I was unlikely to be around to have to plant them a second time.

I was wrong.  Yesterday in the post another box of asparagus plants arrived with a note of apology from the producer saying that they were sending us new stock because one third of original stock we had received was inferior.

We had noticed this, but I was willing to ignore the evidence.  Planting asparagus requires digging a trend about a foot deep and a foot wide, planting the root, and then gradually building the soil up around it as the tip appears.  Once every twenty years seemed enough work.  Now we were being told to do it again after a mere four weeks.

Cambridgeshire is one of the asparagus-growing capitals of the world.  Road signs are even now appearing inviting you to “pick your own.”  The supermarket, however, is selling bunches at outrageous prices with little tags that say “grown in Peru.”

So this morning I dug out the trench and planted 8 more asparagus plants.  Check in again in 2011 to find out if we’re eating it yet.