As the days shorten and the light takes on autumn’s golden hue, I’m reminded that in this “back to school” season, some things never change: It’s a forgone conclusion that I’ll start dreaming about waiting for the school bus in my pajamas and getting hopelessly lost trying to find my homeroom. I haven’t stepped foot in a classroom for (mumble, mumble) years, so what’s that about? Fall is a time of transition and that’s exciting but also a bit anxiety-inducing in a way that seems almost primal. Change is coming; are we prepared? We’re harvesting and preserving fruits and veggies with urgency, lest anything go to waste; we’re putting out the last of the hummingbird nectar and keeping our fingers crossed that the little darlings make it all the way to Mexico; we’re chopping wood and calculating how much we’ll need for the nightly fire. And at our house, we are hoping to finally harvest some honey, leaving enough to keep our girls fed for the winter. (For those of you who have been keeping track of our little apiary, we’re in pretty good shape with our bees so far this year but their winter survival is never guaranteed.)

Like the bees, we’re all very busy, but also preparing to slow down a bit. As the frenetic activity of summer winds down, we have more time to pay attention to, well, everything. That’s one of the themes in this issue. Elisa Spungen Bilder profiles Nancy Thomas of Mezze in Williamstown, who embodies the Berkshires’ culinary heart and whose unwavering attention to detail, whether that involves employees, menu planning, or the quality of a humble piece of lettuce, we can only hope to emulate. Lee Buttala sits down with Kevin West, whose new book, The Cook’s Garden, exhorts us to tend our gardens with an eye toward what ends up on the table and in what season.

Kevin generously shared his no-stress canning method with us, along with recipes from both of his books. And Leah Holzel writes about her own journey of discovery with nut trees, telling us how she learned to look into the forest with new awareness and delight. We think her account will inspire you to hone your own powers of observation. And then you can head to the kitchen to whip up Leah’s hazelnut thumbprint cookies. Yum!

Also in this issue, Philippe Jeanjean answers your most pressing wine questions. What’s orange wine? Turn to page 36 and find out. Miriam Rubin gives us a splendid grape focaccia with rosemary that will jazz up your cheese board and go perfectly with your afternoon cup of tea. Red Lion Inn chef de cuisine Marcos Gomes offers up a simple and savory chicken breast with Chablis shiitake sauce. And Katy Sparks chats with Ben Webb and Brittany Ebeling of Little Bean Farm in Sheffield, waves her culinary wand over their delicious heirloom beans, and rustles up a cassoulet that will be your go-to meal on the chilly evenings ahead.

We also give you two inventive autumn recipes from our fellow Edible publishers: beet fritters from Edible Boston and pork chops with braised apple from Edible Rhody. You might consider the fritters and Kevin West’s honeypatch squash as sides on your Thanksgiving table. We wouldn’t dare tell you how to cook your turkey because people will die on the hills of roasting, grilling, smoking, brining, spatchcocking, and deep frying (please don’t burn your house down if you choose the last method!). Do as you please; trust the meat thermometer.

In this season when many of us possess more bounty than we can possibly consume, please let’s remember that others in our community are not so lucky. Some of our neighbors are hungry. Farmers and nonprofits are suffering from government funds promised and then taken away without a care for the people who are left struggling. In Western Massachusetts, one in six residents rely on SNAP (Supplemental Nutrition Assistance Program); government funding for this program has been cut by nearly $200 billion. Chances are, you know someone who is directly impacted. So slow down and pay attention, read the landscape, share your bounty. As the days contract, let our generosity, our empathy, and our appetite for positive change expand exponentially.

Happy harvest, everyone!