Stalking the wild San Juans

Katie Klingsporn

Wading through the knee-high grass in flip-flops, I crouch to reach for a perfect stalk of asparagus sprouting on the edge of the canal bank below. It makes a satisfying snap as it breaks off, and I add it to the bundle I’m clutching to my chest.

In my asparagus enthusiasm, I forgot my bag in the car, and now the stalks are leaving a spreading splotch of water on my cotton shirt. Fresh enough to leak water! I didn’t even know that was a thing.

Eventually I head back to the car for a bag, dumping the equivalent of three store-bought bundles of asparagus— some short and thick as fingers, others long and spindly — into it before returning to the road.

My initial zeal satisfied, I fall back, walking slowly, enchanted by the tableau of new life that is exploding in every direction. We’re in the west end of the…

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