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The garden grew not only vertically but soon spread throughout the property. It didn’t stop there. Like seeds on the wind, it inspired neighbors, passers-by and the community to begin gardening on their own. Call it viral gardening.
T.J. and Stephanie Johnson’s urban oasis, which they share with son Quinn, 12, doesn’t sacrifice aesthetics despite its prolific output of produce. In the beginning, the property was little more than grass, concrete and a few trees. Today, it sets an example for what urban vegetable gardening can be. Three-fourths of the lot has been turned over to producing 140 varieties of fruits, vegetables, herbs, nuts, fungi, edible flowers and grains. Buckwheat, currants, figs, hazelnuts, kiwis and mushrooms are some of the more unusual varieties.
The former Olympia city councilman’s goal with his garden is sustainability, or, as he calls it, a closed loop. No nonorganic pesticides or fertilizers are used in the garden. Vegetative waste is sent to a compost system, which in turn fertilizes the garden. No gas-powered equipment is used. He regularly tests the soil to keep it in balance. “It all starts with the soil,” he said.
The human inhabitants of the household are not the only beneficiaries of the garden. Three hens (the legally allowed maximum) have a hutch and pen to run and lay eggs in. The two Rhode Island Reds and one Araucana lay on average two eggs a day (the Araucana’s eggs are a pastel green.) The hens also make their contribution to the garden in the form of manure.
Over the years, both the Johnsons’ and neighbors’ trees have grown up and cast shade on the vegetable beds. While T.J. appreciates the trees, few vegetables do well without direct sun. And the recent weather hasn’t helped.
“This has been a challenging year for those of us who grow food,” he said.
Gardening on a city lot can have other drawbacks. Chief among those is space. But just last year, the Johnsons converted their side yard, which also serves as a septic drain field, in to an edible forest garden. The garden is layered vertically like a naturally occurring forest. At the higher reaches grow cherry and fig trees. Lower down are blueberries and elderberries (from which Stephanie produces wine). At ground level grow strawberries and mint.
Native plants like salmonberry, mock orange and red flowering currant attract pollinators. Two logs sport spore inoculated plugs that will in time grow oyster and shiitake mushrooms.
Another thorny problem with urban gardens: furry visitors. Electric fences are illegal within city limits, so Johnson uses education of his feline neighbors. So far, the kitties aren’t listening. On the morning of a recent visit newly sprouted carrots had been disturbed by a probing paw. Raccoons have also been a problem. Slippery metal shields keep the animals from climbing a hazelnut tree. Chicken wire is keeping them off a grape vine. “For the first time in years, we have grapes,” Johnson said admiring the plump bunches hanging amidst the vines.
The Johnsons are able to eat from their garden year- round and not just because they harvest winter crops. An ambitious canning, freezing and drying program allows them to preserve much of their crop.
The Johnsons haven’t forsaken good looks in the pursuit of food production. Passers-by would hardly know the property is a teeming vegetable, berry and egg producing oasis. A fence – installed at a neighbor friendly height – shields quick glances but allows the truly curious the ability to ponder the wonders of the yard. And ponder they do.
The family holds workshops, tours and the occasional spur-of-the-moment garden consultations on their city lot.
Those consultations can be as simple as answering the question, “Why are you growing squash on a trellis?” (the answer: space considerations). That particular question led a neighbor to build his own squash trellis.
“You plant seeds of ideas,” T.J. said. But one of Johnson’s neighbors complained he was setting the bar too high. “My wife’s on me all the time,” the neighbor told Johnson.
Passers-by will knock on the family’s door wanting to know what a particular plant is. They’re often astonished to learn kiwi fruit, figs and other “exotic” plants do well in the Northwest.
The Johnsons’ green tendrils have spread beyond their home garden. Four blocks, to be exact. In 2009 T.J. became a founding father of the Wendell Berry Community Garden. The garden, named after author Wendell Berry, is an almost too-good-to-be-true dream of vigorously healthy plants in neat rows and patches.
Two plots, surrounded by deer-proof fences, contain long lines of corn, trellises of beans, oceans of squash and a 90-foot long greenhouse filled with tomatoes, eggplants and peppers. Unusual for a community garden, grain fills several rows. We’re not talking garden variety grain but instead quinoa, rye and stunningly bright red and feathery amaranth. The gardeners’ goal: bread ... and perhaps even beer.
The garden produced 5,000 pounds of food in 2009. “It sort of stunned us that we got so much,” Johnson said. This year the space was almost doubled to 7,500 square feet.
Twenty members, all required to live within a mile of the garden, each spend four hours a week working there. Unlike community gardens in Tacoma, Seattle and other cities, this garden doesn’t assign beds to individuals but instead grows crops collectively. Each member receives a weekly box of produce during the growing season. Some members who protested the planting of certain vegetables have come to like them. “I hate beets” has become, “Hey, I like beets.”
“Diets are changing,” Johnson said.
The advantage of the collective method, Johnson says, is a higher yield and more education on vegetables and gardening in general. “It’s much more of a learning model,” he said. In turn, those gardeners spread their knowledge.
“We have 20 new mentors that go back to their neighborhood and help their neighbors,” Johnson said. “We’re planting a seed that can germinate all over the community.”
Craig Sailor: 253-597-8541
