why my single asparagus stalk means more than a harvest

This morning, I walked out to my backyard and there it was—a single, proud asparagus stalk poking through the soil. Just one. I couldn’t help but laugh, thinking back to my childhood when my grandmother’s garden overflowed with asparagus every spring. She’d gather us all to snap off the tender shoots, her hands stained with earth, her stories flowing as freely as the harvest. Now, decades later, I’m standing here with my lonely stalk, wondering if I’ve failed or if this is just the new way of gardening. Some of my neighbors swear by raised beds and store-bought soil mixes, while others, like me, cling to the old ways—digging into native earth, trusting the rhythms of our unpredictable North American seasons. It’s funny how gardening has changed. My grandmother never worried about HOA rules or whether her garden looked ‘neat’ enough for the neighborhood. Today, I get side-eyes if my patch looks too wild, but I can’t help loving the messy beauty of it all. Is it better to have a picture-perfect yard, or to let nature take its course—even if it means just one asparagus stalk? Maybe this single stalk is a reminder: gardening isn’t always about abundance. Sometimes it’s about memories, about healing, about the stubborn hope that next year will be better. I’d love to hear—do you stick to tradition, or embrace the new trends? And what do you do when your garden gives you less than you hoped for? #gardeningmemories #asparagus #familytraditions #Gardening