It takes a leap of the imagination to write this spring letter when your home weather station tells you the “real feel” is -2 degrees outside and you just shoveled eight inches of snow off your walkway. But I’m not complaining. Cold winter days allow our plants to sleep more deeply, break up compacted soil, kill garden pests, and generally give us an even greater appreciation for spring when it finally arrives. Keep your temperate climates; I much prefer the sharp contrast of the seasons. 

The trick for us New Englanders is to remain present in the current season while preparing for the one to come. A few years ago, the very wise gardening guru Margaret Roach told me to stop mowing my meadow down in the fall. Those scraggly, dried out stalks of goldenrod, dogbane, and milkweed, while not terribly attractive, are important winter habitat for creatures great and small. The time to mow, she explained, is in the spring when you first see tender green shoots begin to emerge. New food is well on its way, so it’s time to summon the farmer who mows the meadow so that it does not become a forest. That conversation helped teach me that good stewardship should always trump self-interest and aesthetics, and that everyone and everything benefits when we understand the broader, longer-term impact of our actions. I strive to remember this in my everyday life and I wish we all would. 

So, as I remain present in winter, I am also thinking about spring. And where that begins for me is taking stock of my seeds and planning out my raised beds and grow bags. I’ll rely heavily on Jodi Cahillane’s seed starting guide (page 26) to inform my choices. By the time you read this, the seeds I planted inside should be pushing through the vermiculite, and I’ll be itching for the warmer days that will allow me to transfer them outside. I’ll be sure to include some flowers to attract pollinators and, of course, I’m keeping my fingers crossed that our own bee colony made it through the winter. 

When my early veggies emerge (I’m thinking peas!), I’ll go straight to Miriam Rubin’s trio of recipes for peas and carrots. Carrots roasted with cumin is a favorite of mine, but I’m eager to try my hand at Risi e Bisi and Peas with Baby Potatoes and Boiling Onions—yum! And for dessert, Leah Holzel’s Panna Cotta with Macerated Strawberries will surely be on the menu as soon as I start seeing sweet and juicy local strawberries. 

You know Philippe Jeanjean as the Berkshire Sommelier and our very own wine columnist who, this issue, tells you all about blending. But guess what? He’s also an amazing cook who can be counted upon to arrive at a party with something delicious he whipped up in his kitchen. As soon as I tasted Philippe’s Pâtés de Pézenas, I knew they should be in the magazine. They are delicious little meat pies featuring spiced lamb, they have a sweet backstory, and they are typically served as an appetizer. But beware: It’s hard to eat just one and you may find yourself making a meal out of them! 

I’m a firm believer that how food is grown, prepared, and shared impacts us all deeply, whether or not we’re fully aware of the connection between what we eat and how we live. When you read Lee Buttala’s story, “The Last Supper Club,” make sure you have tissues in hand. His moving account of his mother’s final days, the meals they prepared together, and the family memories those meals evoked, will have you reminiscing about the meaning of the special foods in your own life, the people with whom you shared them, and the traditions that help keep those we have lost alive. 

Lastly, I’ll end with a confession: Like many of you, I feel like I’ve been hit by a wrecking ball. To say “We live in uncertain times” now seems like a vast understatement. I fret over our environment, our farms and the people who work the land, and the broad impact of decisions made in self-interest. At a time when it’s easy to become overwhelmed and discouraged, I need remind myself every day that there’s huge value in tending one’s own garden, literally and metaphorically. Let’s do our best to take care of ourselves, our neighbors, and our community. Like good New Englanders, let’s be fully present in the current season, knowing that the garden we tend today, with wisdom and forethought, is the source of tomorrow’s sustenance.