Every spring, an army of volunteers arrives at Lake Elizabeth in Allegheny Commons Park on the North Side, wearing old clothes and shoes that have suffered repeated indignities.

Some bring their own rakes.

The annual cleanup of the drained lake — literally a muck-raking affair — has been organized for the past two years by the Pittsburgh Parks Conservancy’s community outreach coordinator, Erin Tobin, who also labors with the rest of us.

Last year, 60 volunteers turned out to clear the lake bed of leaves, litter, fish and fowl excrement and masses of algae.

The city reported then that it had no crews to help. The timing, late May, was peak grass mowing season for Public Works staff. So we volunteers filled hundreds of sturdy black bags, left them on the rim along the lake’s edges and Public Works picked them up within two days.

We wore face coverings to prevent inhaling the stench and toxins. In places, you could roll the algae up like damp carpet. It was hugely gross, and as I worked, I thought about why so many regular citizens choose to do this kind of thing.

You could stay home in your jammies with no recrimination.

But 60 volunteers can’t be wrong. (This year, it was closer to 40.) There is pride of place — people love that park — and the knowledge that Public Works staff simply can’t stretch to do everything. Then there’s that magic thing called camaraderie.

My neighbors were full of good feeling, commiserating on how disgusting the task was, but laughing and acting as if it were fun. The fact that it was disgusting boosted our sense of togetherness. Everyone was splattered and sweating and slipping on the green, slimy glop. It actually was kind of fun.

It was the only time in my life when I have felt hugely satisfied and disgusting for the same deed.

This year’s cleanup was moved to April, and I went again, knowing that at least there was no algae.

As I neared the park, I saw the lake bed was already swarming with volunteers, with leaf-collection carts roving over it. The Public Works guys were out in force. Yay, Northern Division!

Two feet of leaves had piled up at the northern end of the lake. Several guys were already on that, so I grabbed a rake and started on the thin layers of leaves and gunk. Dozens of people around me were doing the same thing. Dozens more were on the other end of the lake were doing the same thing.

Within an hour, the north end of the lake bed was cleared of leaf piles. People had begun working in concert. When I raked enough to make a pile, someone scooped it up. Two people working on separate piles began to rake toward each other to combine the haul for when the cart would swing by.

People kept coming, some of whom weren’t able to help but came to offer a morale boost.

Thanks to Priory Fine Pastries and Commonplace Coffee, we had muffins, cookies and joe, too.

Some gave the effort a little, some gave it a lot, but everyone added a layer of connective tissue to each other, to the park, to our neighborhoods and to our city workers.

Public officials at groundbreaking events often attribute the success of the moment to public-private partnerships — say, state and federal money along with foundation and corporate gifts. Those are big-ticket achievements, but the small stuff is just as important in its way.

Our Lake Elizabeth cleanup was a thoroughly hands-on private-public partnership. Neighborhood residents working in collaboration with city laborers, each dependent on the other, each taking ownership of a shared problem, each going home with spattered, stinky clothes.

Our park workers will fill the lake, which is 3 feet deep, with approximately 1.3 million gallons of water, and all of us who live around it will have a great amenity back in service for another year.

If the city can figure out a way to prevent algae outbreaks, the volunteer army can return next year knowing the annual cleanup is just a dirty job, not toxic.

I will pull on the same crummy boots that got caked and matted with lake filth this time around. They are now hanging outside until the rains can wash them clean.

Diana Nelson Jones: djones@post-gazette.com or 412-263-1626. Twitter@dnelsonjones.

First Published: April 15, 2019, 12:00 p.m.