Cultivation, from the Latin root cultus meaning “care” or “labor,” is a slow, tender act that requires effort, patience, and hope for the future. When we cultivate we create something, over time, that’s far greater and more wonderful than the seed we began with. To cultivate, even in the face of species extinction and climate crisis, is to insist upon beauty and growth.

For this issue, we asked contributors to think about what cultivation means to them, both internally and externally. Writers and artists explored cultivation in its myriad forms: from the relationships we cultivate with the microbes in our kitchens, to the bizarre and wonderful self-cultivation of a native garden, to visions of the impacts on our world when cultivation goes astray. They share their ideas of what cultivation can be in a world that’s simultaneously bursting with possibilities and often devoid of hope.

Their work reminds us that to cultivate a lasting relationship with the earth, we have to look beyond ourselves, beyond our usual frames of reference. To remember that we are part of a community of living things, all seeking something more, all churning towards a common fate. To cultivate is to learn patience, even to suffer, in the pursuit of something we might never see completed in our lifetimes. To cultivate is to find the “beauty in the waiting,” as Annie Dillard wrote in Pilgrim at Tinker Creek. It is to care, when so much of our world encourages us to stay numb.

We invite you to re-imagine your world, to see it through the lens our contributors have so generously shared, and to cultivate a new path forward, no matter where you are in the world or in your life. This issue is not the garden, but the seed. Read it with care.