‘Tis the dawning of the age of asparagus
In late March, the gardener was transplanting plants he knowingly started way too early because he does things like that when, to his left, he saw them – strong young asparagus spears shining in the sun for all the world to see. “Asparagus already? Isn’t this earlier than ever,” he wondered, “by at least a couple weeks? Climate change ignored my calendar again! Who’s in charge here!” Then he thought, “Asparagus for dinner. Cool!”
Our temperatures this year have resembled the graph of a psychedelic sine curve, but somehow the soil in the asparagus bed warmed enough and 16-year old asparagus crowns would wait no longer. I started plants from seeds in a round tray on a spring day in 2010. The seeds sprouted quickly and spent their first summer and winter in asparagus plant day care, and by spring the crowns – fleshy rhizome-like masses which send up the spears we eat – were eager to resettle into their forever homes 9-12 inches apart.
As my 16-year old plants can attest, asparagus plants intend to be perennials. They might produce for maybe two decades unless somebody digs around and messes with them. Plant the crowns 6-8 inches deep in soil that resembles the lush, friable soil of the Fertile Crescent 5000 years ago.
Spears emerge in spring and grow a few inches daily, so harvest them before they get too tall and tough. At that point, let them get taller and fern out to collect sunshine to feed the crown. Don’t harvest spears for the first two years to allow the crown to gather energy for the long haul. Also, never harvest spears no thicker than a #2 pencil; skinny ones need to make ferns to feed the crowns. Harvest season lasts about a month or so.
Sneak in mulch around the spears to help keep weeds down. By June or July, the spears will have become meter-tall fern fronds that gangle into pathways unless respectfully contained. The good news is you’ll have an exotic bed of ferns for a few months until autumn when they turn brown, dry and wispy.
Only then might the conscientious gardener snip them off at ground level. Some of the ferns you cut will have produced small red seed pods resembling berries. Those come from female crowns that also produce thicker spears. Spears from male crowns are more numerous but not as thick.
Mulch helps to keep weeds under control, but gardeners all over the world – just like me – also use a cultivator tool to gently tickle the topsoil to stir up unwanted plant activity without disturbing the crowns. We call them weeds and they’re a challenge to control, so regular attention is best, and crowns appreciate your effort.
It is a curiosity that both tomatoes and dill are considered good companions for asparagus though they don’t do well with each other. Asparaguses might also appreciate a few marigolds or basils in the bed. Besides adding color, they might be stinky enough to scare off asparagus beetles from the spears, plus underground they deter way bad teeny nematodes which gorge themselves on roots and crowns and things.
China grows far more asparagus than any other country, but China keeps its asparagus. China is not even in the top ten list of exporters. Peru is second in production and second in exporting which included selling more than 160 million pounds to the United States in 2023. The United States is third in production, mostly from California and my garden in northern Madison County.
Purple asparagus was developed in a coastal region of northwest Italy probably 500 years ago. White asparagus, popular in Europe, is simply regular green asparagus heavily mulched or covered over to keep light out.
Asparagus is loaded with your favorite vitamins plus quercetin, kaempferol, and more. You do like kaempferol, don’t you?