It’s widely recognized that Seattle’s real estate market is both limited and pricey. Developers are on the hunt for land in every available corner of the city, often squeezing multiple townhouses onto these tight spaces.
In my own neighborhood, Lake City, we were startled one December morning by the sound of chainsaws on a small plot earmarked for development. A tree service company was unlawfully trimming a large Douglas fir, one of the two remaining trees on the property—the other being a scarlet oak. We quickly informed them that they were required by law to post a public notice prior to any tree work, a step the developer sidestepped.
Saving our trees seems to be an uphill battle in what many consider a progressive city. Both trees on that lot are labeled “exceptional trees” by city standards and are part of the Thornton Creek watershed, an area noted for its environmental sensitivity. Unfortunately, these factors appear to hold little sway, particularly as Seattle’s tree canopy—and consequently our climate resilience—is rapidly vanishing, especially in neighborhoods like Lake City.
We may not live in a neighborhood that realtors would deem “desirable.” Many here reside in modest homes or in crowded, older apartment buildings. Some of our neighbors don’t speak English. Sidewalks are only sporadic and one of our roads is often used by speeders as a cut-through. In such a setting, it’s not hard to imagine why a well-connected developer might feel at liberty to overlook the concerns of the locals.
Our neighborhood may lack wealth, but it is rich in community spirit. After losing a significant Atlas cedar last summer, we immersed ourselves in understanding the Seattle Tree Ordinance—a complex set of rules that tend to favor development over environmental concerns. Despite the challenges, we are deciphering these regulations for the good of our community’s wellbeing. Climate change is a reality with immediate impacts; our summers are getting hotter and the trees on the adjacent lot offer much-needed shade for about 20 homes, most of which lack air conditioning. During heavy rains, these trees help absorb excess water from paved areas, cleanse the air, and support local wildlife.
This comes at no cost to anyone.
Despite being pragmatic people who understand the need for housing, we simply want it done thoughtfully with regards to these trees. Positioned at the lot’s edge, at least the Douglas fir could be preserved. The architect we consulted confirmed this feasibility, and interestingly enough, even the developer’s own architect admitted the same in a leaked email.
We’ve engaged the developer several times, striving for a win-win solution. Yet, each discussion leaves us with the impression that they believe we are indebted to them for their business ventures in our area. From their perspective, it’s purely an economic equation—maximize earnings, minimize expenses.
But what they miss is a crucial element in this equation: the local community. While it’s true that individual property actions seem personal, they undeniably affect those nearby. When we suggested the developer consider revised plans to save the fir tree, they suggested that we bear the costs. Costs for what, exactly? For their presumption of unchecked freedom to disregard our community? For their deliberate refusal of a feasible architectural solution?
When developers cut down vibrant, mature trees in a neighborhood, they’re solely profiting at the community’s expense. They swoop in, carry out the project, and move on, leaving us with no benefits and shouldering the loss of our precious trees.
Eve Tai is a long-time resident of the Lake City neighborhood in Seattle, residing there for 25 years.
