I was all set to do a post about the wonder of that earliest of harvests, the catch-me-before-I-bolt crop of asparagus that assures us Spring has indeed arrived. That perky green, the purple triangles that appealingly adorn its sturdy stalk, its pretty little overlapped head. The sweetness that reminds you to never buy it out of season. The way it makes your pee smell funny (which is apparently a genetic trait that doesn't affect everyone).
Then I laid out my asparagus for a photo. And noticed it. These asparagus stalks are just like my family. The tall daddy asparagus, with his only-slightly-smaller asparagus wife, their heads leaning affectionately together, sheltering their little asparagus kids. The almost-gangly older brother asparagus, with one skinny little sister, and one smaller, pleasantly chunky little sister.
I could hardly eat this little family of asparagus, that so resembled our own.
But I did.
And it was delicious.