As I write this, the soil is still unyielding and it’ll be many weeks before I can plant anything. But as spring approaches, I find myself reminiscing about the garden I grew up with.

Every May, my father and maternal grandfather would lock horns over when to plant the garden. My father, the son of Yankee farmers, insisted that one must never plant before Memorial Day. Frost is a sneaky devil, after all. My grandfather, a Polish immigrant, had a different perspective. He kept a watchful eye on the neighbor across the street, with whom there was fierce competition, particularly in the tomato department. If he saw signs that his neighbor was getting ready to plant, my dziadziu became increasingly impatient. And my father would dig in about waiting a bit longer. In the end, there was always compromise. And most years, the garden was splendid, yielding enough bounty for us and our friends, with plenty left over for my grandmother to preserve. Who had the best tomatoes? Who knows? In the end, two strong-willed men with different perspectives cooperated and, together, did the hard work of creating something beautiful and nourishing. Gardening imitates life in so many ways.

Long before the garden is planted, I find myself becoming hypervigilant—constantly on the lookout for signs that spring is about to burst forth: hellebores, wood poppies, and magnolia in my garden; trillium, lady’s slipper, and trout lilies in the woods; ramps and fiddleheads; lambs and baby goats; and newly budding trees that give us that distinct color of vibrant green that only lasts a couple of weeks. It’s all so sweet and so fleeting—a reminder to seize all the season has to offer without delay. Before we know it, summer will be here and the pace will become more frenetic. The trails will become more crowded, our favorite restaurants will be harder to book, and our days will be filled with garden tending, farmers markets, and a seemingly endless array of local cultural events. Summer is the season to be busy; in the spring, we recharge and lay the groundwork for that uptick in cadence.

In this issue, we help you seize the days of spring. Even if you didn’t start seeds in a cold frame while the soil was still too hard to work, Lee Buttala provides hope and guidance in A Procrastinator’s Guide to Spring Planting. Sam and Simeon Bittman, father-and-son foragers, take us on a walk through the woods to gather some spring delicacies, and Kim Larson offers a primer on spring eating, Ayurveda style. Our recipes are also a reflection of the season: Amye Gulezian’s Lahmajo uses ground lamb; Miriam Rubin takes us on an asparagus adventure; Cello’s chefs, Ray Stalker and Sartia Orobio-Wolff, give us Spring Chicken; and Klara Sotonova of Klara’s Gourmet Cookies shares an amazing Linzer cookie recipe. For my part, I had the pleasure of chatting with Sarah Real and Mike Dell’Aquila, the founders of Hot Plate Brewery in Pittsfield, just as they, like us, were celebrating one year in business and reflecting upon their role in the city’s revitalization.

Lastly, Happy Birthday to us! It’s hard to believe that, as I write this, it’s been exactly one year since I signed on as the new publisher of Edible Berkshires. And what a year it’s been. I’ve learned so much, but the biggest lesson is this: It takes a village to publish a magazine. And our “village” is pretty special. I’m grateful beyond measure to the people we write about, the advisers who eased our way, the larger Edible community that is filled with peers and mentors, and the advertising partners who took a leap of faith and signed on with us before we had produced even a single issue. I want to take a moment to single them out because without them, there would be no Edible Berkshires: Berkshire Community College, Berkshire Food Co-op, Great Barrington Bagel, GB Eats, Country Caretaker, High Lawn Farm, Lakshmi’s Garden, Lanesborough Farmers Market, Ombra, Once Upon a Table, Sett/One Mercantile, Steam, Wards, and Windy Hill Farm. Thank you, thank you! You enabled us to publish a beautiful magazine and paved the way for others to join the fold.

Happy Spring, everyone!

Donna