Seeds and Stories: Six Voices from Portland Community Gardens

For over 50 years, community gardens across Portland have been places people return to. Not for the same reasons, but there's a similar pull. Belonging, purpose, joy, relief.

There's something about these gardens.

"It's healthy to be able to touch earth," says Portland Community Gardens program founder Leslie Pohl-Kosbau. "To be able to grow our own food. To have space to do that is incredibly important."

For Westside gardener Joseph, the impact is measured in seasons. He's been returning to the same plot for nearly 40 years, growing food he remembers from South America, including Guyana, where he was born. Food that brings comfort and the peaceful rhythm of doing something familiar year after year. The garden became a throughline long ago, linking memory, daily life, and the next season.

In a different garden across the city, volunteer site manager Manie has seen what happens when a garden becomes a place people rely on. Not only for food, but to slow down and feel valued. Voices begin to sound more confident and familiar. Neighbors who once minded their own business call out to each other by name.

View full size image of Gloved hands holding multiple Roma tomatoes fresh from the soil.

In Northeast Portland, it's simple for Susana. "I like to enjoy the soil," she says, "watch my plants grow, and eat my vegetables." She spends the happiest part of her day in the garden. Where calm outweighs stress, and many cultures come together. People share ways of preparing food in a mix of languages. Friendships grow. Simple. 

Further north, Vaha describes a lightness to gardening alongside others. Days are filled with laughter and stories about growing up on an island. Home feels a little closer.

For Leticia, the garden represents opportunity. A piece of ground where family and friends can plant, grow, harvest, and eat organic food. She sees a place to nourish her family and build community.

And for Southeast gardener Nina, the space brings memories of her parents and the gardens of her childhood. She watches her grandchildren play between plots while tomatoes ripen around them. "They know where food comes from," Nina says. "And how important this place is." Time planting seeds and caring for what's growing quiets her worries. When a friend was overwhelmed by loss, Nina brought her to the garden. It helped.

The first community gardens began with the vision of providing space for people to grow their own food. To touch earth, as Leslie put it. They were already there, planting on park edges. What followed now takes many forms.

It looks like Joseph returning year after year to grow okra, callaloo, and bitter melon. Like Manie, feeling grounded from the first day she and her daughter stepped into the garden. Like Susana finding happiness in hours spent surrounded by plants. Like Vaha laughing with others while telling stories of home. Like Leticia, appreciating the opportunity to keep her family healthy. And like Nina, sharing the power of kneeling over a plot of soil.

There's something about these gardens.