Entrance to the pea-patch world is through a gate with the sign, “Respect the garden. You plant them you pick them.” And what a world it is!

Situated beside the Eagle Harbor Congregational church, it fronts Finch Place and is the size of a tennis court.

A tree shades the conversation area of three chairs, which border the 23 plots overflowed with dahlias, raspberries, sweet peas – you name it, it’s here.

How did this come to be, a pea-patch in downtown Winslow? A pea-patch with no locked gate? A pea-patch with a guardian angel named Ed Kern?

Many years ago, the owner of the white house on the corner of Finch Place and Winslow Way sold his house to the church when he moved across the street. He had a garden but not designed for multiple gardeners. His home now houses the Bainbridge Island Special Needs Foundation.

The Thursday Men’s group, which still meets regularly at the church for breakfast, decided that a community garden was what the neighborhood needed. They hammered some boards together for raised beds and a garden began. This was more than 20 years ago.

Along came Ed Kern, who saw the possibilities. After 18 years, his fine hand is evident everywhere, including the separate plots, the tool shed, the arrangement of beds – not too orderly, but orderly enough to encourage these who need a garden.

Now, it is not just a pea-patch, it is a showplace.

Thanks in part to Margaret, who this day is on her knees beside her plot. No larger than an eight-feet square, the plot held 12 thriving plants. Margaret lives in the Madrone, having moved from a large house on North Bainbridge. Gardening must have been in her blood for she immediately applied for a small piece of land and soon she was there every morning “to see what damage the deer did overnight.”

She points to nearby beds: “That’s Maradel’s, and those are John and Matilda – they’re from Winslow Green. That’s Mel and Dorothy’s. They had a large section during their 80s, but today they’re in their 90s and they’ve scaled back. Hanna’s is beside mine, and that’s the children’s garden,” she adds, pointing to a small section planted with winter vegetables.

Ed Kern is a tall, slim man with a relaxed gardener’s mien. He knows you can’t rush a conversation just as you can’t rush a harvest. You can tell he has a spent a considerable amount of time making things grow.

A conversation with him meanders, but he strongly believes that gardens build communities.

It’s hard not to think of community while sitting on a warm day in the shade of a lovely tree, the clean odors of turned soil blended with the aromas of flowers in the air, and the hums of contentment by those working their plots.

Two women kneel while tidying up their spots; another harvests sweet peas, a couple with two children water their tomatoes, another picks green beans for supper. Two families pause at the fence enjoying the view.

The admirers and the gardeners are joined by their love of gardens, and soon the obvious question is asked: Why aren’t there more pea-patches on Bainbridge? There are only two; the other is at Bill Point.

Margaret speaks from her kneeling position. “How about Gideon Park on Grow. It’s close to dense housing . I rarely see anyone use it.”

Ed adds: “The city owns much land. For example, the sunny spot beside Hildebrand Lane would make a fine pea-patch. And churches could dedicate a section of their property for pea-patches as the Eagle Harbor Congregation Church has.”

The pea-patchers continue to discuss possibilities, but it’s clear what all proposed gardens would need – an Ed Kern.