Fresh Connections – The Parfitt Way Blog

A garden flourishes in the spring and summer, bursting with color and bountiful harvests. Slowly, each of these lively plants will begin to wilt, dropping leaves and sinking closer to the ground. Eventually, the garden will decompose and freeze through the duration of winter. It isn’t until spring draws near that we must ponder the garden once again, accounting for the perennials that will awaken at the thawing of Earth to relive their dependable and vibrant cycle. The annuals are but a memory, their passionate bursts of life having ended at the first frost, and we must rethink and redistribute these varieties in different parts of the garden—places they’ve never been, where the soil is richer and the sun shines bright.

Since childhood, I’ve lived my life as an annual among perennials, giving every ounce of my spirit and energy and love to each steadfast community that welcomes me with open and productive arms. While the community and landscape of Bainbridge Island is and will remain nourishing enough to bring me back to life over and over again, I must move on and plant my delicate roots in the rich soil of Bellingham Bay. My life on Bainbridge Island altered my future forevermore—as would any life after living in such an empowering and mesmerizing environment. I was so inspired by the idea of regenerating the wealth of knowledge and inspiration I received from various sources on the island—YES! Magazine, our local farming programs, the community and music revolving around Pegasus Coffee House, and YOU—that I applied for and was accepted into Woodring College of Education’s Master in Teaching program at Western Washington University in Bellingham.

The bittersweet transition came quickly, and as eager as I was to get to the new community and environment I now call home, I knew that leaving came at the cost of becoming unfrozen in the timeless sphere beneath which all of us live blissfully on the island. I thought it was gone forever, the equity and togetherness and solidarity and passion and art and Earthly wonders, and prepared myself for withdrawal. But, then I arrived in Whatcom County, where the sun sets the sky ablaze and illuminates the art-covered buildings, garden-covered yards, bike-covered streets, and forest-covered valley between the Salish Sea and the North Cascade range. Here, the community is as vibrant and innovative as the island’s—in fact, the community is quite shared. The Bainbridge to Bellingham pipeline is real, as the exodus of young adventurers brings their journey to the trails and sidewalks of my new beloved streets, where we share music, friendships, art, and a passion for social justice and sustainability.

The Bellingham community is a macro version of our tight island family, made even more vibrant by the transient annuals amongst the homesteading perennial that come together to create a wild and productive multipurpose garden. Here, doors and minds are open, and the last days of sunlight pour inside of both as the mass migration of students inspires an even more bustling community, with events and music and food and beer—endless beer from tens of breweries around every corner—that nourish this hardy garden in the wake of winter. As I write my final words of farewell to you, island community, I smile at the thought of knowing you here, in various forms and faces, and look forward to connecting our communities in the future. Until next time.

–Christine St. Pierre