“… But I find I can’t resist making one suggestion: Why not plant asparagus in the tulip bed? The flowers will be on the way out and their leaves will begin to die and look ugly just about the time asparagus turns into an attractive fern. And think what fun it would be to ‘tiptoe through the tulips’ to gather your asparagus!” — Ruth Stout, in “Gardening Without Work: For the Aging, the Busy, and the Indolent,” 1961

In her chapter titled “Asparagus — the easiest vegetable of all,” Stout shares the advice of one J.A. Eliot of Califon, New Jersey, who not only pooh-poohs the need to dig 2-feet-deep trenches for planting asparagus roots but also advises gardeners to “plant [asparagus] here and there in combination with flowers.”

At first, Stout is coy, stating, “And even if I were a genius at landscape gardening I wouldn’t tell you any of my valuable ideas about combining flowers and vegetables in a bed; you would enjoy the whole thing more if you thought up your own.” But then she offers her opinion anyway; after all, she’s writing a gardening advice book, right?

I don’t grow asparagus, and I tell myself it’s because I don’t have enough room in the garden; however, it probably has more to do with digging those 2-foot-deep trenches that J.A. Eliot hoped to remove from the asparagus-grower’s list of garden chores but, somehow, still linger in articles about how to properly grow asparagus today.

I do grow asparagus “ferns” (Asparagus densiflorus ‘Sprengeri’) from seeds and cuttings in pots for their feathery, light-green foliage. The new growth tips look exactly like miniature spears of edible asparagus and, after developing inconspicuous white flowers, the plants produce berries that turn bright red. It’s interesting to note this ornamental relative of edible asparagus officinalis certainly does not require deep planting to produce new growth, which is the part of the vegetable version we eat.

I also don’t grow tulips for exactly the reason Stout recommended planting them with asparagus — the flowers only last a week or two, and then I’m left with only the dried-up leaves for the rest of the season. There is a patch of pretty yellow tulips that has grown for several years right at the border of our front yard and our neighbors’, and I’ve conveniently forgotten who actually planted them there. If I want spring flowers in a vase on my table, I tip-toe through the tulips to cut off a few stalks, making sure to first turn the tulip bud that’s just opening so it nods over our side of the yard.

All of this to say that I might rethink my reluctance to include asparagus and tulips in my garden after reading what Stout and J.A. Eliot had to say on the matter. In her book, Stout boasts that her two 50-foot rows of asparagus are more than 20 years old and still quite productive. She says, “All I do for asparagus is to keep it constantly mulched with loose hay.”

Even if I haven’t convinced myself, or you, to grow asparagus with or without tulips, I want to share a useful online resource provided by Old Farmer’s Almanac for combining vegetables and flowers. For many years, some gardeners recommended adding companion flowers to vegetable beds without much scientific evidence to back up their advice; however, new research has substantiated the benefits of specific planting combinations. According to OFA’s “Evidence-based Companion Planting Guide,” growing the right flower and vegetable plants together may reduce pests and increase productivity.

For example, OFA recommends planting calendulas and petunias with asparagus to help prevent beetles. Alyssum, marigolds and calendula are recommended companions for vegetable plants in the nightshade family, and dahlias have shown effectiveness as companion flowers for thyme and rosemary in the mint family. Nasturtiums are an effective companion plant for beans, cabbage, cucumbers, radishes, winter squash/pumpkins, tomatoes and zucchini. Not only do these flowers attract pollinators and confuse insect pests, they also provide splashes of bright color in the vegetable beds.

The way I see it, tip-toeing through the tulips is just the beginning. Why not cavort with calendulas, pirouette past petunias, dance with dahlias, meander among marigolds and navigate through nasturtiums, too?