COMMUNITY GARDENS

by Alison Ahlgrim, Winter 2020
Photo by Michael Yates
Photo by Michael Yates

COMMUNITY GARDENS

by Alison Ahlgrim, Winter 2020

My first visit to Everett was a reconnaissance mission to see if my husband and I might like to live there. Drawn to the water, we ended up at the waterfront enjoying the view and the sound of seagulls at Scuttlebutt Brewing. On our way out of town, I noticed a community garden terraced into the hills above busy Marine View Drive. I craned my neck to stare at the prolific sunflowers, vining squash, rock walls, corn stalks, and other vibrant, colorful plots!

Photo by Margo June

Later via a Google search, I discovered that this gorgeous bright spot juxtaposed against the industrial Everett waterfront is the Bayside P-Patch. I longed to be part of it.

Fast forward to a few months later, my husband and I arrived in Everett on Thanksgiving Day, 2018. It was a classic Pacific Northwest November day. It poured rain all day, and the Sound remained shrouded in a dense mixture of clouds and fog. We were indeed settling in Everett , the return to our Northwest roots after 15 years living in Arizona and Wisconsin.

Our new home could be found just a block and a half from the Bayside P-Patch. We unloaded our cats and what few possessions we had crammed into our Toyota Corolla, donned our rain jackets, and immediately set out for the P-Patch.

Even though we had both returned to our roots in the PNW, I was feeling raw and displaced. I missed the house we had owned in Wisconsin, with its huge backyard of bountiful garden beds and their raspberries, asparagus, edible herbs, hops, rhubarb, and fruit trees . But I found solace standing in the P-Patch smelling the fresh, damp soil, and seeing the kale, herbs, and brassicas that survive the mild PNW winters. A few plots had row cover or small, plastic-covered hoop houses. I wanted to put roots in the garden, find a community, and return to growing my own food.

Photo by Alison Ahlgrim

We were lucky to secure a place in the Bayside P-Patch where we inherited a well-established plot with raspberries, boysenberries, currants, asparagus, thyme, sage, strawberries, and some overwintered carrots and parsley. During our first day working the soil, our plot neighbor gave us some extra seed potatoes and shared gardening wisdom with us. We felt at home.

Throughout the 2019 growing season, we had monthly potluck gatherings and workdays where we got to know others in our community and build connections sharing the literal fruits of our labors.

Photo by Alison Ahlgrim
Photo by Alison Ahlgrim

In 2020, our small slice of soil overlooking the enormity of Possession Sound has felt even more precious than before. In a year with formidable challenges, the inability to connect with others face-to-face, and a never-ending stream of depressing news, our garden plot has remained a constant source of joy and comfort.

Working from home allowed us to use our former commute time to improve our garden infrastructure by adding some paths, hoop houses, and trellises. We had more time to do succession planting and really nurture our space. During the long slog of “safe at home,” we watched salad greens turn into space for peas, and then turn into space for climbing beans. Strawberries waned while raspberries took off. Last fall’s broccoli and cabbage plantings turned into big, heady delights in the early summer. Carrots and beets yielded space for tomatoes, zucchini, and peppers.

Photo by Michael Yates
Photo by Michael Yates

My husband and I have been growing and preserving our own food since 2010. People have wondered why we have spent so much time and energy saving seeds, sprouting our own plants, tending to those plants, weeding, composting, and, eventually, doing the hard work of turning crops into tomato sauce, salsa, pickles, and jam. In a year where people have felt alarmed and uncertain of food supplies, I think they are finally starting to get it.

Just as the garden itself cycles through seasons of plenty and seasons of disease/rot/pests, the popularity of gardening has done so as well. During World War II, the government encouraged American households to do their patriotic duty and plant victory gardens. However, with the rise of prepackaged convenience foods (1950s) and microwaves (1960s), those gardens turned back into lawns.

In the late 1960s and early 1970s, a “back to the land” movement emerged as people felt disillusioned by the ongoing Vietnam War, rampant consumerism, the emerging energy crisis, and an increasingly inaccessible food system. During this time, “P-Patches” began to surface in the Seattle area, with the first P-Patch created in the Wedgwood Neighborhood on land owned by the Picardo family. (https://www.historylink.org/File/20662)

With all the uncertainty in the world due to the COVID-19 pandemic, gardening is surging in popularity again. As Dr. Meade Krosby, a climate scientist and biologist with the Universiisty of Washington, says in an article in Crosscut, “A COVID-19 victory garden is one of those individual-level things I recognize could reduce my own risk, and also potentially help reduce risks to others by opening up food supplies that might become more limited in the future.”

Krosby continues, “People need something to do … in a time when it’s easy to feel vulnerable and helpless. Much like the wartime gardens, these are really about building morale and reducing anxiety as much as actual food security. Even if we grow one sad little potato out of this… it’s literally grounding.” [WWII-era ‘victory gardens’ make a comeback amid coronavirus, Crosscut March 2020] 

As the seasons change and the COVID-19 pandemic marches on, one constant remains. Tucked into the industrial Everett waterfront, the plants of the Bayside P-Patch carry on, oblivious to the struggles faced by us humans. Berry vines, asparagus shoots, potatoes, herbs, and brassicas lie and wait for warmer temperatures and longer days ahead, sending energy deep down into the earth. Like these plants, we prepare for better days ahead.

Photo by Joe Clark
Photo by John Simon
Alison Ahlgrim has spent her entire professional career in the non-profit sector advocating for people, helping vulnerable populations succeed and working to create systemic change. She currently works as a Housing Program Manager at a permanent supportive housing complex in Everett, helping formerly homeless people transition to life off the streets. Alison also has a background in journalism and freelance writing and enjoys telling people’s stories and photographing nature. Alison can almost always be found outside, whether hiking, backpacking, rock climbing, biking, playing Ultimate Frisbee, gardening or cross country skiing.

Table of Contents, Issue #10, Winter 2020

Woodland Witness

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