Is Hammond’s Meadow in Montecito Being Done Dirty?

Shalawa Meadow, a k a Hammond’s Meadow, once flourished as a vibrant, green sanctuary, teeming with tall grasses and ladybugs. However, today, it’s a desolate patch of dirt. The two-acre parcel in Montecito, which is a protected Chumash ceremonial site, sticks out like a sore thumb amid surrounding grasses and the neighboring Hammond’s Beach. 

To many who live nearby, this once-lush meadow has turned into a seemingly endless eyesore. But for those who reduced the meadow to dirt, it’s just step one. 

The meadow was overrun by non-native weeds, explained Ken Owen, executive director of Channel Islands Restoration (CIR). For 13 years, CIR tried to combat the meadow’s invasive species and reduce wildfire risks on behalf of the County of Santa Barbara. 

It was nearly impossible. Out of respect for the Chumash land, CIR’s only available tools were weed-whackers and a smelly organic herbicide that left behind a strong stench of citrus and clover. 

Now, with more than $750,000 raised in collaboration with the Santa Barbara Botanic Garden, CIR is implementing a project to restore the meadow by starting from scratch. 

After eradicating non-native plants, they’ll cover the area with a nonbiodegradable geotextile fabric to protect the sacred ground underneath and lay on 10 inches of recovered soil, upon which a new, native garden of 26 different grasses and wildflowers can sprout. They’re just waiting on a grading permit to get started.

The idea is to improve wildfire management and aesthetics while maintaining space for Chumash ceremonies and wildlife, but also safeguard the site from non-native intruders, vandals, looters, and erosion. They are working closely with the Barbareño Band of Chumash Indians to restore the site without harming the land.

Patricia Morello, founder of the Barbareño Band of Chumash Indians council, initially had reservations about the process potentially disturbing the fragile land where she and her father once prayed. However, after consulting CIR and the Botanic Garden, she was “all for” the meadow being “protected and preserved.” 

Her father passed away in 2013. When she visits the meadow now, she said she can “always feel his presence there. 

“I believe in protecting all sacred sites, all this land is sacred to us Chumash,” she continued. “Because a lot of people think natives are extinct, but we’re not; we’re still here. So we need to have that voice, and we need to protect what lands we have left.”

However, the initial phase of the restoration project left behind a barren landscape that hardly resembles a meadow.

Jimsonweed, a cherished native wildflower, stands as one of the few native survivors amid the onslaught of non-native competitors. Many meadow regulars, including some Chumash who hold ceremonies there, oppose what they view as an invasive, excessive, nontransparent process that disrupts the meadow’s natural beauty, covers it in plastic, and pollutes it with soil from the highway.

[Click to enlarge] The meadow, a protected Chumash ceremonial site, features a small shrine that reads: “The sacredness of the land lies in the minds of its people. This land is dedicated to the Spirit and memory of the ancestors and their children.” | Credit: Valerie Aroyan, Callie Fausey

They are also not too keen on the prospect of the numerous gophers who inhabit the meadow being gassed with carbon monoxide, which CIR describes as an ethical alternative to trapping them under the geotextile layer.

“This restoration is neither needed nor wanted,” wrote Valerie Aroyan in a letter to Supervisor Das Williams, whose district includes Montecito. She and her husband visit the meadow every day with their dog, Lucky. 

Standing among what remains of the meadow, Aroyan rolled her eyes as she and her husband explained that they just wanted to see the site be left as is, but they’d felt unheard. They miss the ladybugs that used to hatch there in the spring. 

Owen admitted it is a drastic measure. But with the tenacity of the weeds and without the ability to mow or uproot the ground out of respect for the Chumash, it no longer seemed practical to control the invasives using organic herbicides and weed-whacking.

“As much as I’d love to just go in there and throw in some native seeds and make a garden, I can’t do that,” he said. “The non-natives have been reproducing there for decades, and the competition is too severe.” 

Beyond the meadow, the Botanic Garden is undertaking similar restoration efforts, looking to increase its reach outside of the garden. At Elings Park, they established a one-acre plot of native plants to study and support how biodiversity benefits from native species. 

“It’s pretty staggering how much more life native plants can support,” compared to non-natives, said Botanic Garden Executive Director Steve Windhager. “If we can establish more native plants, we can provide a lifeline to wildlife and turn the tide on the consequences of climate change in our own backyards.”