The Age of Asparagus

Just two weeks ago, on April 15th, I harvested asparagus.

Not just one or two tentative spears, but enough to signal something more significant: we’ve crossed over. The age of asparagus has begun.

There are few vegetables that mark a season as clearly as asparagus. It arrives without apology, demanding daily attention, asking to be harvested before it slips past its prime. It doesn’t wait for us to be ready. It simply is.

And with it comes everything else that is spring on a vegetable farm.

The fields are loud now.

Bobolinks bubbling overhead, competing with dickcissels, assorted sparrows, bluebirds, and brown thrashers. At ground level, pheasants call from the hedgerow, quail dart through the grasses, and wild tom turkeys put on a burlesque-level show for all the world (and the lady turkeys) to see. In the evenings, the chorus frogs, owls and nighthawks take over, filling the dark hours with their ethereal call-and-response.

It’s no longer a quiet season. It’s a layered orchestration that would put most symphonies to shame.

Even the air feels alive. The last of the fruit trees are blooming, their fragrance drifting across the farm, wrapped in the unmistakable buzz of bees at work It’s one of those moments that feels almost too full to take in all at once.

And then there are the June bugs.

They’ve returned too. I won’t pretend to be delighted by all of spring’s arrivals.

Spring transplanting has begun in earnest.

Seedlings that we’ve been tending for months are finally moving out into the tunnels and fields. Flats are being emptied, beds are being filled, and the steady rhythm steady rhythm (aka: a bit of a mad rush) of planting has taken hold.

The potatoes are in the ground.

It always feels like a milestone—tucking those seed pieces into the soil, trusting the process to carry them forward, safe underground for months before we see the results

.Oyster mushroom season has also begun, which means a bit of foraging has returned to the mix. It’s an excellent excuse to wander the timber every day or two, peering at fallen logs and whatever else catches my attention. It’s another reminder that not everything we harvest is planned and planted.

And happily, amid all of this, the crew is starting to trickle back in. A few familiar faces, a couple of new ones, and the beginnings of the shared rhythm that carries us through the growing season.

As the pace of the farm picks up, so does the way we connect that work to your table.

Our new VegEmail store is officially open, something we’ve been working toward for quite a while. It’s designed to make ordering simpler and more flexible—bringing together VegEmail, pantry goods, and farm offerings in one place

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We’re also shifting back into our Saturday VegEmail schedule, beginning in May. The move back to weekends always feels like another seasonal marker—longer days, fuller tables, and a bit more time to linger.

The Bounty Box membership for 2026 is now full, which is both humbling and energizing. Thank you to everyone who has chosen to join us for another season - we’re truly grateful to be your farmers. (A reminder that balance payments are due April 30.)

Our BLOOMS subscriptions have also sold out, which means a summer full of flowers is already in the works. (Balance payments for BLOOMS are due May 15.)

It’s a lot all at once—but that’s spring.

April 30 – Bounty Box balance payments due
April 30 – BLOOMS sign-ups close
May 2 – Saturday VegEmail deliveries begin
May 15 – BLOOMS payments due
June 2 – Bounty Box deliveries begin
June 13 - BLOOMS season begins

There’s a moment every year when the switch flips—from preparing for the season to suddenly being in it.

This is that moment.

Asparagus needs harvesting. Seedlings need planting. Bees are working. Birds are calling. The days are getting longer but there’s still not time to get it all done.

The season doesn’t ask if we’re ready.

It just roars up and expects us to jump in and keep up!

Best from the farm,
Jill & Sean (and the whole BGF crew)