LIKE MOST WOMEN, I love flowers. So I appreciate when my husband unexpectedly, for no reason other than “just because,” picks up a bouquet for me.
The same goes for asparagus.
Right about now you’re likely wondering how I can compare an asparagus spear to a flower.
One, you say, is romantic and a symbol of love.
The other, you argue, is a vegetable, nothing other than food to consume.
However, I don’t define the two quite so concisely. I contend that asparagus, like flowers, can, indeed, express love.
My husband recently proved that. “I have a surprise for you,” he says, handing me a small bundle packaged in a plastic shopping bag.
I peek inside. “Asparagus!” I exclaim before taking his face between my hands and planting a big kiss upon his lips.
I am a happy wife.
He knows how much I have desired garden-fresh asparagus. So he has stopped at Twiehoff Gardens on his way home from work for the vegetable that will satisfy my yearning.
Asparagus may not be roses. But you can bet when I wash, dice, cook and eat that tasty spring treat, I am thinking of my husband and how very happy he has made me with $1 worth of asparagus.
© Copyright 2010 Audrey Kletscher Helbling