A Story of Abundance:

The Columbia River Delta's Food Heritage

Dear Food Friends and Community Leaders,

Picture this: thousands of years ago, the Chinook and Clatsop peoples stood where we now walk through the Uppertown Farmers and Astoria Sunday Markets. They watched the great river carry its gift of fertile silt from the mountains to the sea, creating these impossibly rich bottomlands that stretch all the way to Tillamook. They knew something then we're still discovering and tasting - that this delta is one of the most abundant food landscapes on Earth.

The salmon runs were so thick you could walk across them. Cedar-planked fish cooked over alder fires. Camas bulbs dug from meadows that are now our neighborhoods. Wapato roots harvested from wetlands. Berries picked from hillsides. Oysters and clams gathered from bays. They developed sophisticated systems of abundance-sharing - potlatch economies where wealth meant what you could give away, not what you could hoard.

Fast-forward through waves of immigration. Norwegian fishermen who brought their smoking and preservation techniques, adapting them to Pacific salmon. Asian immigrants who carried fermentation knowledge that transformed local ingredients. My own great-grandparents, like so many others, flooding cranberry bogs across the river, their hands stained red each autumn as they harvested these bright jewels that thrive in our unique ecosystem.

During the Depression, when times were hardest, families here didn't go hungry if they knew how to read the landscape. The river still ran with fish. The bogs still yielded berries. The tides still brought shellfish. Gardens still grew in this impossibly rich soil, built by millennia of mountain sediment. Communities shared knowledge, shared harvests, shared meals around tables that groaned with the abundance this place provides for those who know how to partner with it.

That abundance is still here. It flows through the Uppertown Farmers Market every week - the same fertile ground producing food, the same waters yielding their gifts, the same traditions of community gathering around shared meals.

But here's what I keep thinking about: we've somehow separated all these beautiful threads that used to be woven together. The indigenous knowledge. The immigrant adaptations. The family farming traditions. The seasonal celebrations. The community mutual aid. The understanding that food connects us not just to each other, but to this specific, generous place.

What if we could weave them back together? What if we could create something that honors all these heritage threads while celebrating the abundance that's still here? A harvest festival that's also a living history lesson. A community celebration that actually supports the knowledge keepers and culture bearers who've sustained these foodways. A gathering that reminds us that even in hard times - especially in hard times - this place provides, and we provide for each other.

But here's the thing - this isn't just about nostalgia. This is about practical knowledge for right now. Our area faces significant food insecurity and among the highest homeless populations in Oregon. But we also have incredible natural abundance and a community that knows how to care for each other. This festival celebrates both realities and bridges the gap between them. When we can make extra, we share with neighbors. When we have knowledge, we pass it on. When we have abundance, we create systems to ensure everyone benefits.

I keep imagining demonstrations that teach families: which local foods are in season when, and where to find them affordably. How to contact local producers directly. Simple, nutritious recipes using ingredients from the Co-op, the CCA food bank, and market vendors. Traditional preservation methods that turn seasonal abundance into year-round nutrition. Hearty winter recipes - stews, breads, casseroles, fermented foods - that help families thrive through the lean months using local, inexpensive ingredients. Both traditional and vegan options that stretch budgets while honoring cultural heritage.

Picture workshops on food density and nutrition using local ingredients - how salmon and shellfish provide protein, how wild greens add vitamins, how fermented foods support health. Connection points between the North Coast Food Web, the food bank, Filling Empty Bellies, the Uppertown Market, and the Co-op. A resource guide people can take home showing: what's local, who provides it, when it's in season, how to reach them directly.

Here's what makes this simple and sustainable: each participating business or organization just needs a table, their business cards and brochures, and one specialty dish featuring regional ingredients - enough for samples. The recipe gets printed on cards with local sourcing information, so festival-goers leave with a collection of tried-and-tested recipes, the cultural stories behind them, and direct connections to get the ingredients locally.

This celebration reminds us that we're all part of the same community - whether we're shopping at the farmers market or relying on food assistance programs. Houseless neighbors, families stretching paychecks, local business owners - we're all just trying to nourish ourselves and each other in this place we share. We're all one unexpected expense away from needing community support, and we're all capable of providing it when we can.

The infrastructure is already there through the farmers market. The vendors, the community connections, the understanding that food is culture and culture is community. What if we could expand it into something that celebrates not just this season's harvest, but all the seasons of human abundance this delta has sustained?

When we feed our neighbors and nourish ourselves, we build something deeper than community. Something that honors where we come from while creating abundance for where we're going - and ensures that abundance reaches everyone who calls this place home.

With excitement and hope,

The Astoria Heritage Harvest Festival Crew