Companion Planting Asparagus And Strawberries

The asparagus bed and I have reached that familiar stage of a long-term relationship: five years in, still hopeful, slightly exasperated, and convinced that this season might finally be the breakthrough.

When I first planted the bed, I imagined armfuls of spears each spring. The reality has been… more modest. It’s improving, certainly, but not quite the abundance I had pictured when those crowns first went in. Gardening has a wonderful way of gently adjusting expectations while keeping optimism stubbornly alive.

Last year’s experiment was chickpeas. In theory it felt clever — something productive growing in the gaps while the asparagus did its slow, perennial thing beneath the soil. In practice, the harvest was so small it barely justified the excitement of sowing them. Still, no experiment is ever truly wasted in the garden; it simply becomes part of the ongoing education.

This year’s plan feels more promising, and rather pleasingly traditional: strawberries.

I have grown strawberries before in a homemade tower. It looked charming and made excellent use of vertical space, but the reality was a constant battle with watering. In dry spells the tower would parch almost overnight, leaving the plants permanently on the brink of complaint. Beautiful in theory, thirsty in practice.

Which brings me back to the asparagus bed.

If gardening teaches anything, it is that empty soil feels like a missed opportunity. The asparagus occupies its space with admirable patience, emerging in spring and then retreating into feathery calm for the rest of the year. It seems almost wasteful not to invite a companion to share the plot.

Strawberries, with their low-growing habit and shallow roots, seem the perfect tenants. They won’t compete deeply with the asparagus crowns, and the asparagus spears should happily push their way through the foliage when spring arrives. In theory, the two crops occupy different layers of the same space — one reaching upward in spears, the other spreading gently at ground level.

It feels like the sort of companion planting that makes intuitive sense, even if it remains slightly experimental.

I’m also toying with the idea of laying straw beneath the plants. Partly for moisture retention, partly to keep the fruit clean, and partly because there is something deeply satisfying about strawberries resting on straw. Some gardening traditions endure simply because they feel right.

Of course, the garden has a way of humbling even the most sensible plans. But that’s half the joy. Every year brings a new trial, a new hope, a new “let’s see what happens”.

So this season the asparagus bed gains new residents. With luck, the strawberries will thrive in the shared space, the asparagus will continue its slow improvement, and the bed will finally feel as productive as it always promised to be.

And I’d love to know — has anyone tried growing strawberries and asparagus together? What were your results?

Sue

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