It's a community in bloom and boom

Originally published Saturday, May 31, 1997

By DEBERA CARLTON HARRELL
SEATTLE POST-INTELLIGENCER REPORTER

The enormous linden tree is about 115 years old, planted by Woodinville's earliest settlers. Trussed to support its sprawling, fragrant branches, the tree is testimony to an enduring civic love of all things botanical.

Directly across the street, bulldozers are rearranging the landscape, scraping the foundation of a 43-acre shopping center. Barren as the moon, the land will some day yield a different kind of greenery, bolstering the new city's tax base with shops, movie theaters, restaurants, jobs and services.

Bloom and boom, that's Woodinville.

Since turn-of-the-century loggers felled the heavy timber in the Sammamish River valley, economic growth has co-existed with a fierce local determination to preserve a natural Eden.

Early pioneers on both sides would be awed by their legacy. Woodinville has become a prime tourist destination as well as nirvana for business and residential developers. Its laid-back way of life beckons to upper-middle class families seeking "city living, country style."

Town founder Ira Woodin

The Woodin family, namesakes of a city that incorporated just four years ago, could never have predicted the proliferation of housing developments and English country estates, or the office complexes and industrial warehouses springing up along railroad tracks originally laid to haul timber.

Nor could pioneers have foreseen the acclaimed wineries, brewery, hot air balloons, bike paths, equestrian stables, sod farms, dinner train, and an internationally recognized gardening mecca called Molbak's.

Paul Waterman, 83, had a front-row seat for much of Woodinville's evolution -- and even he can't believe the changes.

Waterman bought his 10-acre farm off the Woodinville-Redmond Road 40 years ago, enjoying tranquillity and sweeping views of a primarily agricultural valley that seemed to stretch to Mount Rainier.

Waterman recalls seeing the U.S. Army Corps of Engineers "straightening out" and rerouting the meandering Sammamish River. He reluctantly watched as King County installed a sewer line along his property, and thought the county's Sammamish River Trail was "the worst thing" he'd ever seen until he realized how many skaters, cyclists, joggers, walkers and others enjoyed it.

He saw the imposing rooftops of Chateau Ste. Michelle winery rise across the valley over what used to be Hollywood Hill farm, a site included in the national registry of historic places in 1978. Other chateau-style buildings -- Columbia Winery and, most recently, Redhook Brewery -- have climbed into Woodinville's rarified air.

"When my wife and I came here, this farm was out in the sticks," Waterman recalled. "That's why I liked it."

Summarizing the sentiments of many locals, Waterman says, "There have been a lot of changes -- too many. Sometimes growth and expansion bothers you; it changes your whole lifestyle. But other people come in and want pleasures too. You can't be selfish."

Like many Woodinville residents, Waterman has adjusted not only to shifting scenery, but changes in zoning and other land-use regulations. Those issues -- zoning, annexations, land-use, water and sewer -- continue to press local hot buttons.

Continued:

• In an era of change, all's still rosy at Molbak's
• Devotion to greenery draws national honor
• Urban refugees flock to quality living and good schools
• Days of being a small town are history