Growing Olives in the Pacific Northwest: History, Survival, Struggle, and the Long Bet.

What it means to wager on olives in the cold edge of the Pacific.

On the Greek island of Aegina, an olive tree still stands that began its life nearly 2,700 years ago. It has seen the Parthenon rise, collapse, and be patched together again. It has watched treaties signed and broken, the Ottoman crescent eclipse the Byzantine cross, the Greek flag lifted after centuries of absence. Empires have passed like clouds, yet the tree still fruits, still flares its silver leaves like metal hammered thin.

That is what an olive means: survival past the reach of history.

One of the oldest grove of Olive trees may be found on the island of Aegina, Greece. It is said that these tree may be up to 3000 years old.

Here, in the Pacific Northwest, no one expects olives. Too wet, too cold, too green. But I have learned to cut terraces and stack stone so the sun is caught, stored, and returned. I carve south-facing alcoves, places that trick the Mediterranean into visiting for a few hours each day. And into that heat I press a sapling, slender and brittle, not yet aware of its own endurance.

Select varieties of olive survive here, like pilgrims who never reach their holy city but sanctify the road itself. A single tree pushing through the odds, setting fruit in a year of grace. And in that moment I feel the continuity: that we are not exiles here, that the same patience that ripens on Aegina can be coaxed to ripen in this soil too.

What am I really planting when I lower an olive into the ground here?

I am planting place. Because every olive carries with it a geography — the terraces of Crete, the volcanic dust of Santorini, the groves of Lebanon. To plant one here is to graft those memories into our hillsides.

I am planting destiny. Because an olive will outlive me. It asks me to design not for my own lifetime but for the generations who will inherit shade and fruit long after my hands are gone.

I am planting history. Because an olive is not ornament. It is Athena’s gift to Athens. It is Noah’s signal of dry land. It is oil pressed into lamps that burned through nights of siege and exile.

And I am planting something else, something harder to name. Because walking among olives, I begin to believe that peace is not naïve. These trees have outlasted wars, crusades, colonies, and dictatorships. They have stood while men bled beneath them, and yet they still fruit. They bear despite everything. They bear because that is what they do.

If a tree can live twenty centuries and still choose to offer oil instead of thorns, fruit instead of firewood, then maybe we can, too.

Every planting is a wager. But olives make me wager not just on soil and sun — they make me wager on us. That we are capable of permanence, of continuity, of peace. That what we put into the ground can be greater than nations.

The Grit and the Glam About Planting Olives In the Pacific Northwest

Yes, you can grow olives here. Should you?

Oregon State University is testing 116 varieties for commercial viability. UW has a handful tucked into the Washington Park Arboretum. Here on Orcas, I’ve planted Arbequina and Frantoio outdoors, and many more varieties potted indoors.

The two main issues:

• Hardiness — what will survive our winters.

• Heat — what will ripen fruit in our summers.

Durant, a legit orchard and mill in Dayton, OR, doesn’t get enough heat to fully ripen fruit. If they don’t, we won’t. Their solution: harvest and mill unripe olives, marketing the bite of high phenol oil. They’ve solved winter survival with variety choice, but not ripening.

Given the data and my own trials, the San Juans aren’t ready for commercial milling. But you can grow a few cool-climate varieties here successfully and let them stand beside your lavender as Mediterranean partners.

Quick Start to Growing Olives in the Pacific Northwest

• Site first, cultivar second. South- or west-facing wall, near stone or concrete for thermal mass.

• Soil: well-drained, plenty of sun.

• Cultivars: start with Arbequina or Frantoio for hardiness, trial a couple others.

• Training: begin shaping early. Favor open-center structure for airflow. Avoid crowding.

• Care: mulch, don’t overwater, don’t overfeed.

• Winter: protect young trees; if top-killed, expect bounce-back.

• Deer: guard them, or you’ll be feeding the herd.

Young olives forming on the branches of an olive tree, surrounded by glossy, narrow leaves. The fruit is still green and unripe, showing the early stage of olive development.

Olive Pests and Disease

Right now, olives in the PNW don’t carry much disease pressure. Peacock spot is the main issue, and it’s hardly fatal — open the canopy for airflow and hit it with copper once or twice a year and you’re fine. The real storm brewing is the emerald ash borer (EAB). It’s been chewing through the mid and north Willamette Valley of Oregon, and trials show olives aren’t immune. How bad the damage will be, no one knows yet — but EAB is one of those pests you don’t get rid of once it’s in.

In our region, the real enemy is winter cold. Below 15°F and many tops will die back. Survival depends on variety selection and microclimate.

My Suggested Cold-Hardy Varieties for Our PNW Ecology

Don’t expect ripe fruit from any of these — consider them wagers on climate change. Plant for ornament, place, destiny, and history.

Arbequina

Compact Spanish tree, early ripening with small, abundant fruit and delicate, almond-like oil. Partially self-fertile, but yields improve with companions like Koroneiki or Frantoio. Adaptable, tolerates cooler climates.

Frantoio

Tuscan variety, vigorous and upright, producing mid-season fruit with robust, peppery oil. Not reliably self-fertile — best with partners such as Leccino or Maurino. A cornerstone in Italian oils.

Nikita

Cold-tolerant cultivar from Ukraine’s Black Sea coast. Balanced, mild oil with fruity, herbal tones. Self-fertility uncertain; assume it benefits from pollinators. Suited for regions outside the traditional olive belt.

OSU Cultivars Rated Good on the Cold-Hardiness Scale (< 2)

OSU trialed over a hundred olives. These scored well for cold survival — don’t bet on them here to ripen, but planting as your trial could be rewarding.

Lecci, Pendolino, Dolce de Morocco, Massabi, Tragolea, Verdale (DOLE 103), Bouteillan (DOLE 76), Midnight, Moraiolo, Oblonga, Super Dwarf (Xera), Luques, Cerasuola, Gordal Sevillano, Salome, Texas Ayrouni Nadim (Pink), Cheloui, Late Blanquette, Leccino, Manzanillo, Taggiasca.

Olive Propagation

Seedlings are a gamble. Even self-fertile trees won’t come true to type, because meiosis reshuffles the genetics. What sprouts may bear fruit unlike the parent, often after years of waiting. If you want a true Arbequina or Frantoio, stick with cuttings, layering, or grafts — the methods that clone a tree outright.

Cuttings

The straight path. Clip last year’s shoot, pencil-thick. Strip half the leaves, dip in rooting powder, push into a gritty mix. Keep warm and damp. Patience pays.

Air Layering

When you can’t cut, coax. Score a branch still on the tree, wrap it with damp moss, seal. Once roots press the wrap, cut free and plant.

Grafting

The meticulous route. Marry hardy rootstock with a finer bearer. Split, whip, or bud, then bind. Done right, two lives fuse into one.

Seed

The gamble. Sprouts, but wild. Slow to fruit, unpredictable. Good for rootstock or breeding, not much else.

Olive Tree Pollination

Flowering

Olives don’t put on a show. Small, cream flowers in clusters. Heavy bloom, light set.

Pollination

A numbers game. Most pollen misses. What sticks sets the crop.

Wind

The engine. It rips pollen loose and throws it grove to grove. One tree will fruit; two will fruit better.

Insects

Bees and wanderers help, but they’re a footnote. Wind does the heavy lifting.

Planting olives here is never certain — it’s a gamble against cold, against cloud, against the odds. But every shovel of soil around a sapling is also a statement: that this place is worth shaping, that continuity matters, that we can carry a lineage of endurance into a climate that was never meant for it. If the tree makes it, it stands as proof that survival can be coaxed, borrowed, wrestled into being. And if it doesn’t, the wager itself still binds us to the long story of olives — a story of patience, defiance, and fruit set against history.

Designing with olives — or any long-lived tree — means designing for permanence. That’s what I do: help people shape their land so it carries fruit, shade, and meaning long after the first planting.

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FAQ: Growing Olives in the Pacific Northwest

Can you grow olives in the Pacific Northwest?

Yes—but only if you respect the odds. Olives demand sun, heat, and air that moves freely. Here, that means designing for microclimate: a south or west-facing wall, stone or concrete to trap and radiate warmth, and soil that drains fast. If you can trick the Mediterranean into visiting for a few hours each day, you’re in the game.

Which olive varieties are most promising here?

Start with the proven survivors: Arbequina and Frantoio. Both handle our winters with grace and will bear in kind years. For trial plantings, explore Leccino, Pendolino, or Taggiasca—names that surfaced in Oregon State University’s cold-hardiness trials. Don’t expect commercial yields; think of them as living experiments in patience and faith.

Will olives reliably ripen west of the Cascades?

Not yet. Even Oregon’s established mills struggle to fully ripen fruit. Our summers are short, and heat units are few. Some growers harvest early, producing vivid green oils high in phenols—peppery, alive, unapologetically unripe. Here, ripeness is relative, and adaptation is everything.

What are the two main challenges for olives in the PNW?

Hardiness and heat. Winters can freeze young trees to the crown; summers may not supply enough warmth to ripen fruit. Every planting becomes a wager between survival and maturation, endurance and ambition.

How cold is too cold for olive trees?

Below 15°F, most tops will die back. Older trees recover from the base, but saplings need protection—wrap trunks, mulch heavy, and use thermal mass to store the day’s warmth through the night.

What kind of site and soil do olives need here?

Full sun. Quick drainage. A slope that sheds cold air. They detest soggy ground and heavy clay. Gravelly loam or sandy soil over rock works best. Think of water as a winter enemy and warmth as a summer ally.

Is commercial olive oil production viable here?

Not yet. Even the Durant orchards in Oregon’s Willamette Valley—one of the most advanced regional trials—fall short on heat for full ripening. Western Washington, including the San Juans, is better suited for ornamental plantings, small personal harvests, and the quiet joy of defiance.

Do I need more than one olive tree for fruit?

Usually, yes. Olives are wind-pollinated, and while some varieties self-fertilize, yields improve dramatically with two or more compatible cultivars. Give them open air to carry pollen across the grove—or across your yard.

How should I train and care for olives in a cool, wet climate?

Start young and shape early. Use an open-center form to let light and wind through. Mulch deeply, water sparingly, feed modestly. Prune out crossing branches and maintain airflow to keep disease away. Less is more—overfeeding or overwatering kills olives faster than neglect.

What pests and diseases affect olives in the PNW?

For now, disease pressure is light. Peacock spot can appear in damp years; good pruning and a light copper spray keep it in check. The larger threat ahead is the emerald ash borer, which has entered Oregon and may one day test our olives. Vigilance will matter more than panic.

Can I grow olives in containers?

Yes. Containers allow full control of drainage and placement. Choose dwarf or compact trees, like Arbequina, and roll them into shelter for deep winter. In summer, let the pots bake in the sun—the more radiant heat, the better the chance of fruit.

What’s the quick-start recipe for planting olives here?

Site first, cultivar second.

• Exposure: South or west wall, with stone or concrete for thermal mass.

• Soil: Fast drainage, gravelly mix, neutral to slightly alkaline.

• Varieties: Arbequina or Frantoio to start.

• Structure: Train open center for light and airflow.

• Care: Mulch, don’t overwater, protect young trunks, guard from deer.

Each planting is a wager—but also a statement. That we can carry endurance into new ground. That permanence is still worth designing for.