The importance of living with the seasons

I grew up attuned to the rhythm of the seasons. Summer meant tending the garden. Autumn was devoted to preserving. Winter was sustained by what we had stored. Spring signalled planting and new beginnings. This was the cycle I watched my grandmother live by, year after year. She raised animals, milled her own flour, pressed sunflower oil. It was simple and meaningful life. And it shaped who I am today.

In 1980s Soviet Moldova, strawberries came and went with their season. We waited for them, enjoyed them at their peak, and made jam to capture their sweetness for the colder months.

Fermentation wasn’t fashionable — it was essential. Harsh winters demanded preparation, and cellars were filled with wooden barrels of fermented cabbage, gherkins, tomatoes, and more. Oranges were a Christmas luxury. There was no processed food wrapped in plastic — only what the land offered, in its proper time.

Even when supermarkets began stocking everything year-round, we kept living — and eating — seasonally. Each harvest was welcomed as it arrived.

Every plant is shaped by its surroundings: the soil beneath it, the water that feeds it, the microbes in its ecosystem, the sunlight and temperatures that guide its growth. When we eat that plant, we consume more than nutrients — we take in the imprint of the place it came from.

Local food carries meaning. It mirrors the climate your body is adapting to, the minerals of your region, the cycles of light and dark that influence daily life. It keeps the body in quiet dialogue with its environment.

By Mariana Nastase