Rapture & Renewal
One evening last April, I left my computer and headed out for a walk. It was the early days of what would become a pandemic habit for me. Those evening walks while it was still light—earphones in place, listening to music or a podcast—became a way to clear my mind of the workday and contemplate everything that was happening in our world. The news was dire that week: Covid-19’s numbers were climbing, and the panic and anxiety of everyone around me seemed palpable.
Spring has always been my favorite season in New Jersey. After the endlessly monochromatic days of January and February, the world begins to blossom and burst with color as the weeks unfold from March to April to May. Spring 2020 was spectacular.
I had been relishing that beauty as I wandered the residential streets of our town when I suddenly realized that I had not encountered a single other person on my path. This was extraordinarily unusual. It was the type of night when kids should have been outside playing after dinner, savoring the extended daylight. Neighbors should have been working in their yards or visiting on porches. Together, those shared outdoor moments would become our saving grace as the months went on, but that night in early April it seemed that people were hunkered down, hiding. For a moment, I had the irrational thought that perhaps, as in a rapture, everyone had gone and I was the only person who remained.
It was then that I spotted the two stuffed animals looking out at me with a wave from a window of one of the houses. It made me smile to think of the child or children who had carefully placed the animals there to connect with the outside world, but it also made me sad to think of the separation they represented.
Separation, loss, the struggle to comprehend. These emotions are a deep part of all of us now. But as we hopefully begin to emerge on the other side of Covid-19, it’s time to also embrace all we have achieved. The storm of 2020 has made us a burnished, better people rooted by strength, resilience, and a powerful sense of community.
Spring has always been the season of renewal, and this year more than ever there are endless opportunities to be uplifted by food and nature in New Jersey. We hope this issue inspires you to be a part of that renewal, whether in your own backyard (pages 17 and 26), by getting to know the people who grow our food (page 21), or by planning a Garden State getaway (pages 32 and 38).
I’ve often thought about the kid(s) who put those animals in that window last April. They offered me a connection that I needed at that moment, and I hope they and their family have safely navigated this era. I wish the same for you and yours, and I thank you for your support of our food and farming community this past year.
Spring is here with its eternal sense of a new beginning. Let’s get started.
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