I met a friend and neighbor, Jeremy Jones, at Wallace Swamp Creek Park today to dream about planting in our restoration area. We surveyed the surrounding vegetation, noting which trees and shrubs were native and which were not. We assessed the existing canopy and assigned one area to shade and another to sun. I had squished through the clover-covered field to our mulched area, mud coating my boots, a trail of size 7 pools of water left in my wake, and I remembered what time of year the ground is saturated and what time of year it is dry. I learned that a simple hole can be useful to assess soil type and condition and that even slight changes in elevation can make a difference in how much groundwater fills that hole. While I dug, Jeremy paced to measure how much space we have to plant. We talked browse protection–methods of keeping rabbits and deer from nibbling away young plantings–everything from plastic tubing to metal caging to sacrificial bovine blood.
We considered what ten species might suit the space, and a couple wandered through with dogs and grandchildren–one five years old with a backpack large enough for him to curl into, one seven years old and one inch away from being allowed on a carnival ride that would flip you upside down and make you lose the contents of your pockets if you didn’t follow the rules to empty them first or the contents of your stomach if you were a grown up who could no longer tolerate being flung about at great speeds. The story of an injury was recounted, a face mask ingeniously used as a makeshift bandage. Connections were made with people and water and land as past and present mingled.
Then the grandparents herded the kids to dinner, Jeremy took leave, and I scoured the mulch for evidence of blackberry growth and dug out some of the largest root balls I have ever seen.
When I could see no more new Himalayan blackberry growth to ferret out, I squished through the field to the parking lot and, as is my custom, turned to look at our restoration area. Crows on their nightly migration to Bothell cawed to one another in the sky above, a robin pulled a worm out of the muddy ground, and for one brilliant moment I could feel it–my connection to a greater whole. There was no separation between me and the mud and the birds and the trees and even the Himalayan blackberry canes we have worked so diligently to remove from this one small patch of earth. I felt in my bones what I believe–that we are all, everything and everyone, deeply connected.
November 12 2020 Work Party
One of us tends to a tree by unearthing the Himalayan blackberry root balls that have snuggled under its base. She follows the root balls to their smallest ends, untangling roots like filaments from the soil, excavating them with the care of an archeologist preserving what has been found. To watch her is to see love in action.
One of us sings with the unbridled beauty and joy of the birds she calls by name, all of them family to her. To gather with her and her dear human family with purpose during this time, to hear her voice across the field as we work is to be held in the warmth of true community.
One by one we arrived to do work that adds up to much more than we could have achieved alone.
This is everything, and I am grateful.
October 24 2020 Work Party
Sometimes I wish we could be there together, tending to place, healing wounds, connecting to the earth and to each other, forever. We are in my heart.
A sincere thank you to all who came to help me build the kind of world I want to live in. You are all so needed. And so appreciated.
Until next time. Love and grace, my friends.
October 10 2020 Work Party
We unearthed root balls bigger than child-sized heads, bigger than my fist, not quite as big as my foot. In these root balls we saw brains and hearts and arteries and capillaries. We honored these roots even as we removed them from the earth, embracing it all. We were defenders of place, habitat, native ecosystems, and humankind.
And then there was thunder, lightning, rain, and hail. If you stood still for just a moment, hail bouncing, rain pouring down, you might have deeply felt our inextricable connection to the earth and everyone and everything on it.
It was good.
September 20 2020 Work Party
September 5 2020 Work Party
We admired the tenacity of the Himalayan blackberry as a species and its multiple reproductive strategies. We marveled at the beauty of roots working so hard, curling and twisting and winding, to seek light despite six inches of cardboard and mulch to suppress them. We devised strategies to remove prickly canes without falling victim to sharp thorns, and we did the math that told us that we had found a cane that was the length of 5,000 sisters head to foot if she were to lie down next to it. We stood six feet from one another and realized that was close enough to feel the warm presence of a friend. And we gathered evidence that tiny groups of people working together toward the same goal can, indeed, create mighty change.
Thank you all, for everything.
January 2020 Work Party
The most beautiful things happen when community comes together. My heart fills every time. I hope yours does, too. Thank you.
Wallace Swamp Creek Park
MLK Day of Service/Habitat Restoration
Sunday, January 19, 2020
December 2019 Work Party
I’m going to share a secret with you all. I’ve had a number in mind when thinking about how many people I’d like to have participate in the Wallace Swamp Creek Park habitat restoration events that have happened this month and last. It’s been a different number each time. It’s really neither here nor there, because any number of people coming out is meaningful and matters. I would consider it a success – truly – if I worked alongside just one other community member to mend that space.
But get this. You all have exceeded my secret number both times – by a lot! You amaze and delight and give me so much hope! The work we are doing in Wallace Swamp Creek Park is habitat restoration, it is climate action, it is salmon recovery, it is community building, it is taking care of the land in our collective care, and it is so much more. When I see people showing up to do that work, I am really so gladdened and hopeful and genuinely happy. I wish I could let you all into my heart so you could see what is there instead of having to attempt words, which can feel so inadequate to convey what I want to here. But words are what I have, so:
To everyone who donated cardboard for the event today – THANK YOU. To everyone who came to the park to drop off cardboard or to lay that cardboard down and shovel, haul, dump, and spread wood chips – THANK YOU. Thank you for your concern, care, and active participation in our community. To those of you following along and asking questions and interacting with me here – THANK YOU. You are all so needed.
Until next time!
November 2019 Work Party
Today, as a community, we began the work of letting Wallace Swamp Creek Park breathe with more spaciousness and ease. Look at how we started! And look at how we ended!
THANK YOU so much to everyone who came out today. My heart is full because you showed up. Thank you.
We’ll be back in the park mid-December to continue the project. Look for an announcement with details soon!