It was only in the last ten years that I became aware that asparagus not only grows in large bundled stalks at the grocery store, but also in the wild.
I couldn’t see it at first. My husband pointed to the ground. “Regarde, les asperges!’ I started rifling through the small rolodex of newly learned French words in my head. I must have it wrong, I thought. I couldn’t see anything that resembled asparagus. He pointed again. Nothing. He bent over and picked up the tiniest stalk. That? I would have never seen that. It wasn’t what I used to buy at Byerly’s. “How do you know where to look?” I asked. He showed me the fluffy weed-like thing sprouting on the ground. Oh, I thought, I could see that. “Does it grow within that?” “Oh no,” he explained. “Well, close by then?” “Sometimes. Sometimes not.” That is the worst clue, I thought to myself.
The season is short. Just a few weeks in the spring. I didn’t think about it much that first season. But the next March, while out walking, I just randomly saw one on the side of the road. I looked around all smiles, as one does, to see if anyone saw me make my big discovery. No one had. I picked it. And from then on, without my knowledge or permission, I started not only looking, but seeing.
I suppose we all think we are being so obvious. That everyone should know exactly how we feel. Really see us. Perhaps the clues we give are as ridiculous as a random fluffy weed.
Nature tells us that it is worth the look. Worth the time. As I walk this world, I am reminded to do the same with you. It would be so easy to just walk on by. I’m sure I’ve done it a million times. But I want to see you. Really see you. I will only ask one thing, that you give me even the smallest of clues. Wave in the breeze just a little. I can’t promise I will understand immediately. But I can promise you this, I will look. Daily.