The Gathering Place

Fort Ward Home Carries on Traditions

Large and Small

BY ALLI SCHUCHMAN | PHOTOS BY DAVID COHEN

Peter Korytko’s great uncle, before emigrating from Ukraine at the end of World War II with his siblings and children, slipped a bit of garlic into his pocket. Upon his arrival in the United States, he replanted the cloves at his new home. Korytko, in turn, took several of the replicate bulbs from his aunt and planted them in his own garden in the early ‘90s.

Years later, while preparing to move west with his wife Cami Holtmeier, Korytko similarly gathered several of the cloves and slid them into a sock, where they stayed in storage for more than 18 months. “The next season he pulled them out and they were brown,” said Holtmeier. “Peter said he didn’t know if they would come back. But they did.”

The couple’s jade plants had a similar experience, spending five months boxed up in storage. Despite emerging as what Holtmeier described as “kinda white,” they, too, survived and now happily grow on a landing in a south-facing window at the couple’s home in Fort Ward.

Like the heirloom garlic and hardy jade, stories and treasures, collected and passed down through generations, some planted, some tucked into corners and others hung on walls, are at the core of the home.

Holtmeier and Korytko’s shared story began when they met at graduate school at Cornell University in Ithaca, New York. Their careers—his in biotech and hers in evolution and ecology— took them through Chicago, then Ann Arbor, Michigan as they made their way to Bainbridge via Seattle, eventually landing on the island with their two young children in 2007.

Their modern home of nearly 20 years is the only one they’ve lived in on the island, though it wasn’t what they were initially looking for. “Cami had a clipboard with a list of everything that she wanted,” said Korytko. “This house met zero of the criteria.” It wasn’t downtown or close to the ferry, nor was it walking distance to a school, and the neighborhood didn’t have sidewalks.

“I had this idea of a yellow farmhouse with a big wraparound porch,” said Holtmeier, who was born and raised on Nebraska farmland. “It’s none of that. But it was super sunny, which was good for me, and Peter really likes houses in the trees. We’re eclectic, quirky people and we really liked it.”

Since then, they said, not much has changed besides some new coats of paint. “We’ve just lived in it,” said Korytko. Newly empty nesters, the couple’s kids are off at college, which is why Korytko said it’s so quiet and clean.

The front porch was the one exception, Korytko said, to leaving the home largely unchanged. “It was completely nonfunctional,” he said. “It wasn’t actually attached to the house and poorly built. It needed to be replaced or repaired, and repairing it became replacing it.”

Although the Brazilian rosewood from which the porch was made was a poor choice for the Pacific Northwest climate, it turned out to be the perfect material for their dining room table. The couple handed off the salvaged wood to Holtmeier’s friend, woodworker and artist Mead Trick, and “three months later, the table showed up,” said Korytko of the cherished piece. “We have lots of board game parties and people over,” added Holtmeier, “so it’s super satisfying to have this.”

“Most of the things you can see were made by somebody in the family or people we know,” added Korytko.

“All our furniture has a story. Every piece has a story,” continued Holtmeier, pointing out pieces around the living room, including the tables that Korytko’s father made and stained-glass lamp shades which were made by her mother.

Holtmeier explained that the sideboard was from her grandmother’s pantry. “My mom and I refinished it and it was in my mom’s kitchen forever until my parents passed away.” In another corner stands an antique Victrola record player. It was originally a gift for her grandfather’s 16th birthday in 1917 and at one point ended up in a chicken coop, before being relocated to the laundry room in Holtmeier’s childhood home. “My mom refinished it and gave it to me for my 21st birthday,” she said. “It still works.”

In Korytko’s office on the home’s uppermost floor hangs a first edition of a linoleum geometric print of flowers, honeycombs and a central honeybee, by local artist Martha Makosky. “She’s a dear friend of mine and this was part of an art festival,” said Holtmeier. “I think what’s so cool is to live in a community with people who are actual artists.”

A striking circular piece made by Korytko’s Uncle George hangs next to the kitchen. From a distance it looks like a painting, but upon closer inspection is wood that’s been inlaid with an intricate pattern of beads and metal rings. The Hutsul artform is one of the best known of Ukrainian folk arts, stretching back centuries and commonly seen on plates, boxes, crosses and candlesticks. “Every family in Ukraine would have something like this on a wall,” said Korytko, noting that they have several more of his uncle’s pieces displayed throughout their home.

Neither Korytko’s father nor any of his uncles were professional artists, but each had a different creative medium inspired by their heritage. Holtmeier said that, much like Korytko’s family, her family too found artforms outside their occupations. “My mom was really amazing. She taught me how to sew, and then I inherited her stained-glass stuff.”

Holtmeier’s specialty handiwork—lovingly crafted quilts— also adorn the home, including seasonal creations that she hangs on the front door. “Up until six months ago, I used my little machine, but just bought myself a big thing—a free motion quilting machine. I’m teaching myself how to do that.” She’s currently working on a double wedding ring quilt for her niece and nephew in her studio on the home’s lower level. “They are both accountants, so I have a number-themed fabric in there,” she said. “It should be done by June. I like to make things specifically for people.”

The home’s exterior is filled with stories and history too. “All of this was just sparse, poorly growing grass, kind of a dirt pen,” said Korytko, “and Cami put in all the gardens. There are actual orchards here now.” Korytko said that what Holtmeier didn’t personally execute, she envisioned. “Since Cami has all the civilized space, I work on the forest. I weed out all the bad plants and am in the process of replacing it with natives.”

“I really like that when I’m in the kitchen I can look out on it and strategize what’s there,” said Holtmeier. “So like when the lilies are blooming, the daffodils and tulips, I can see them. I just really like feeling like I’m outside.”

“Every plant has a story one way or another,” said Korytko. “Many are from people that we know and there are some family heirloom plants. Cami’s got roses going that came from Nebraska.”

The garden also has a Japanese quince grown from a chunk that Holtmeier harvested from a shrub at the entrance to Fort Ward. Holtmeier suspects that it was once part of Japanese farm. “My mom did stuff like that always,” she said, “so now I have this bad habit of grabbing things too.”

It’s yet another legacy that will now endure.