Three years ago, I planted asparagus in our garden. Asparagus is a centerpiece of many homesteads because it's nutritious, easy to grow, and it comes back every year. But gardeners must abide by several rules if they want their asparagus patch to feed them year after year.
First, the asparagus can't be harvested for the first three years after planting. This allows it to establish a strong root system underneath the soil; one that will keep producing new growth in the fourth year and beyond.
Second, weeding the garden bed is of the utmost importance. Asparagus roots grow underground in a tangled mat. If weeds become entangled with the asparagus roots, it becomes difficult to separate the two.
Third, every fall it's important to put 3-4 inches of mulch down on the bed prior to the first frost. Asparagus roots are sensitive to cold, and without that added layer of protection they may freeze over winter, impeding future harvests.
It was this last rule that kept me occupied yesterday. As snow fell in large flakes from the sky, I cursed myself for waiting too long to cover the bed.
I rushed between the barn and the garage, gathering various instruments that I hadn't touched in months. A 25-pound straw bale, two bags of potting soil, and my favorite set of pruning shears.
I used the pruning shears to cut the dry, dead asparagus stalks that were still standing from the summer. I placed their desiccated bodies next to the garden bed, and then I dumped in the two bags of potting soil.
Asparagus are voracious eaters, and I've found that the soil in the bed is lessened by about an inch after each season. Adding new soil ensures the plants will have plenty of food in the spring.
Then I covered the soil with several inches of straw; smoothing it out with my hands to ensure that every inch of soil was evenly covered.
Finally, I took the dead asparagus stalks and stretched them out over the bed. This served to create an additional layer of insulation along with ensuring the stalks will break down to create additional food for next year's crop.
Afterwards, I took a moment to look at my surroundings. The snow was still falling. The green grass and brown mud of my yard disappeared beneath an endless see of white flakes. A flock of birds flew through the sky. But I was the only person outside.
Typical, life's important moments always happen when no one's around.
In his treatise on the ten bodhisattva grounds, Nagarjuna reminds us that we must plant seeds of virtues. We don't become bodhisattvas by accident. Rather, it is the culmination of a lifelong practice wherein we plant the seeds of generosity, kindness, and wisdom in our hearts over and over again.
As time passes, these seeds grow, forming a garden of enlightenment in our minds.
But it's not enough to just plant seeds of virtue. We must nurture them as well. In the same way that the roots of an asparagus plant must be protected from the cold each winter, the roots of our awakened mind must be insulated from corrupting forces.
We do this through the traditional practices of bowing, chanting, meditation, and sutra study. Each time we engage in Buddhist liturgy it's as if we laid down a layer of straw in a garden bed. We provide food for the seeds of virtue that have been planted and create space for their roots to stretch out within us.
Additionally, we must abide by the five lay precepts, refraining from killing, lying, stealing, the abuse of sexuality, and the abuse of intoxicants.
Failure to do this will cause the seeds of virtue to die, and all of our efforts will be for naught.
But if we remain patient, doing the work of a bodhisattva each day. The seeds that we've planted and nurtured for years will grow into something beautiful.
Namu Amida Butsu
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