We moved into Wisteria Park in the winter of 2006, right in the middle of the big ice storm. Issaquah Highlands went dark for days, and I was eight months pregnant. It wasn’t exactly the peaceful move-in we’d imagined.
We bundled up, lit candles and learned quickly that when you don’t have power, your neighbors really check up on you. Looking back, that storm set the tone: life here has always been about leaning on each other and finding warmth in unexpected places.
Our kids grew up in Wisteria Park, and the “blue park” became their second home. It’s where friendships formed over racing around the loop, and scraped knees were forgotten in minutes. Parents stood on the sidelines with their “coffee,” sharing stories and day-to-day minutia, offering snacks and occasionally refereeing. The park wasn’t just a playground, it was the neighborhood’s meeting ground, our unofficial town semi-circle.
Seasons came and went, but each brought its own unique beauty. Spring brought wisteria blossoms to brighten the sidewalks; summer meant evening strolls when you’d wave five times before making it to the corner; fall painted the trees in a fiery color; and winter hushed everything under a blanket of snow.
Wildlife was part of the backdrop: deer grazing like they owned the yard, coyotes calling at night, and occasionally, a bear reminding us to double-check the garbage cans. Wisteria Park has always been where neighborhood and nature meet, and sometimes a little too close for comfort.
And then, there were the traditions. The Fourth of July in our neighborhood was always a highlight, with kids riding bikes adorned in red, white and blue streamers as neighbors gathered in lawn chairs to celebrate together.
Halloween was its own kind of magic. Wisteria Park became a moving parade of costumes, with porches glowing and candy bowls overflowing. Parents gathered in driveways, sipping “coffee” from travel mugs and catching up as kids darted from house to house. Those nights brought us together in ways only shared laughter and simple joy can.
What makes Wisteria Park different isn’t just the tucked-away quiet or the greenbelt views…it’s the people. Over the years, we’ve seen neighbors deliver meals to families in tough times, shovel driveways “just because,” and check in with a knock on the door. Some friendships started with a wave; others started with a borrowed ladder that never quite made its way back. Generosity has always been the undercurrent, showing up in big ways and small.
Connection here comes easy. It might be a quick online post about a missing cat, stopping mid-walk to chat with a neighbor, or simply the comfort of knowing the person next door will notice if your porch light hasn’t been on for a while. It’s ordinary, everyday stuff, but it matters more than you think.
Now, nearly two decades later, our kids have grown and moved on. We’ve circled back to where we started—just the two of us—empty nesters in the same home that once held midnight feedings, birthday parties and science projects sprawled across the kitchen table. It’s bittersweet, but it’s also a gift. We get to look back at the years here and forward to whatever comes next.
I don’t know if our children will someday raise their families in a community like this, but I do know Wisteria Park has left its mark on them—and on us. It’s been about kindness, conversation and the beauty of the everyday.
If I had to sum it up: Wisteria Park is connection. It’s neighbors who become lifelong friends, families who become memories, and seasons that pass but always return. It’s what holds us together: the generosity, the humor, the little things that add up to everything. It’s moments like these that define life here and remind us why, even after all these years, we’re grateful to call it home.
Wisteria Park serves as a central gathering place for neighbors to come together for holidays like Easter and the Fourth of July, as well as casual weekend mornings over coffee and pastries. Photos by Jennifer Choi, Tracie Jones, and other Wisteria Park residents.
Written by Wisteria Park resident Tracie Jones.
As published in the fall issue of Community Connect magazine >>>
