Driving by Molbak’s Backyard + Residence this afternoon, I felt an emotional intestine punch. The constructing is similar, the indicators are the identical, and there are vehicles within the parking zone. However except the cafe, the within is a hollowed-out, echoing house. In a matter of days, your complete constructing will probably be shuttered. I can’t think about downtown Woodinville with out Molbak’s, any greater than I can think about Seattle with out Pike Place Market. As a result of Molbak’s wasn’t only a house and backyard retailer. It was a haven for group, for creativity, for connecting.
In its heyday, pre-COVID-19, folks flocked to Molbak’s in the course of the run-up to the vacations. Aged people arrived in nursing house buses, youngsters ran round, canine pulled at leashes. Stepping inside felt like getting into Diagon Alley. The scent of free sizzling espresso and samples of warmed Kringle wafted on the air. The greenhouses burst with poinsettias splashing vacation shade in all places — crimson, magenta, cream, fuchsia, cranberry. The signature poinsettia tree, with benches for household picture-taking, was a beacon of surprise.
Employees clearly beloved creating dioramas of Dickensian delight with Division 56 buildings and collectible figurines. It was pure pleasure to walk round dozens of adorned bushes, contemplate books on bone broth, sniff the scented candles, try the Scandinavian candelabra and the Hanukkah candles, and go away with one thing sudden: a tiny vacation drum planter that match a single, 3-inch, dwell poinsettia. Molbak’s vibrated with festive whimsy and good cheer.
That was the enjoyment of Molbak’s, in any season of the yr. A sense of shared pleasure. Of risk. The place else might you get such extraordinary hanging baskets for Mom’s Day? Or such lovely planters in the course of the two-for-one sale? Or inspiration for easy touches that brightened any house?
Molbak’s wasn’t only a showcase for vegetation and pots and pillows. It was a spot to satisfy folks, to work, to have a good time. How many people treasure the conversations and hugs we shared beneath the broad swathes of the Tetrastigma within the backyard cafe courtyard? Or keep in mind how the tap-tap-tap of our laptop computer keyboards blended with the thrum of rain and hail on the greenhouse roof whereas we labored? How many people sipped wine, watched performs and realized one thing new at a lecture or class?
So, thanks, Molbak’s. Thanks for teaming up with the Woodland Park Zoo, Saving Water Partnership, the Woodinville Arts Alliance, Oxbow Farm and Conservation Middle, amongst others, to create outstanding experiences all through our area. Thanks for supporting native growers, artists, and craftspeople. For internet hosting events, and classes, and theater. For offering an info sales space year-round to assist us determine numerous crushed and withered samples of foliage we plucked from unknown shrubs and bushes.
The lemon bushes, lemon hand cleaning soap, and lemon-themed plates are gone. Sooner or later, too quickly, the buildings and parking zone and indicators will vanish, too. Like many, I’ll mourn that absence for a very long time. No matter new improvement takes place on Northeast 175th Avenue, I’ll at all times see the ghostly define of the greenhouses. In what feels at occasions like infinite change and disruption and loss, it’s heartbreaking to see a 67-year-old family-owned enterprise erased from the town heart. Might or not it’s some consolation that the life and sweetness and generosity of Molbak’s will thrive in hundreds of gardens all through Woodinville and the area. And within the hearts of Molbak’s prospects at all times.
