wild, native. and edible

this tiny little tamarack looking forest is growing right outside my front door. on my front stoop, matter of fact. my husband, steve, is hell bent on turning our suburban yard into a northern foragers paradise. anything and everything native, and edible, is being planted. there’s no plan. no rhyme or reason. we’ve got wild ramps here. here. and here. we have blueberries over there. raspberries everywhere. because, raspberries. stinging nettle on the side, beside the fiddleheads. mushroom spored logs over there. hazelnut trees up the hill, and now, asparagus seedlings on the front step. my husband is what you might call a man driven by his deep and fleeting passions. this year it’s edible native plants. hopefully, next year’s passion will be “care and maintenance of edible native plants”, or even “harvesting and preserving native edible plants.” unfortunately, that kind of logic does not usually prevail. we live on water. i am holding my breath for boat building.

baby asparagus shoots