If you’ve walked through a supermarket lately, you’ve probably noticed produce prices that feel too high. Meanwhile, farmers like me are getting paid prices that are too low — often far below the cost of growing the food in the first place.

This year started out optimistic and full of hope. New opportunities, new goals, and the kind of early-season promise that makes a farmer stand a little taller. But if life — and agriculture — have taught me anything, it’s this: don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched.

The family farm remains the backbone of this nation’s food system. If we lose that connection between the land and the people who love it, we won’t just lose farms. We’ll lose the foundation of rural America itself.

Farmers need predictable access to open markets, fair pricing that reflects the real cost of production, and policies that respect the work of both farm owners and the laborers who keep operations running. Subsidies are a Band-Aid, not a cure.

When politicians promise to “make China pay,” it sounds tough. It sounds patriotic. But here’s the truth no one likes to admit: China doesn’t pay these tariffs. America does.

The first day of fall arrived this past week. Out in the orchard, the mornings carry a chill, the sky deepens to that September blue, and the seasons shift once again. Farming teaches you that change is certain — the blossoms of spring give way to summer fruit, and autumn reminds us that nothing stays forever.

Not long ago, we talked about how fragile America’s food system has become. Farmers and ranchers face growing challenges — from water regulations and rising input costs to corporate consolidation and uncertain markets. Yet one thing hasn’t changed: when farmers and rural communities stand together, we are stronger.

Not long ago, America was the breadbasket of the world. Our fields and orchards fed not only our own people, but millions overseas. When ships left the Pacific Northwest loaded with cherries, apples, wheat, and pears, we knew the world was waiting for what we grew.

Not that long ago—within the lifetime of folks still living in Wasco and Sherman Counties—the farm fields echoed with the steady clop of draft horses. Harness jingled at dawn, sweat darkened their hides by noon, and at day’s end the team pulled the wagon home. It was the rhythm of farm life.

Now that the Wasco County Fair has wrapped up for another year, I can’t help but feel a deep sense of pride in our community. By all accounts, it was a very successful event.

Thoughts from the Tractor Seat: A Timeline of Trouble, How Our Farms Got Here

Every year, the county fair reminds us where we come from. It’s where we learn to show up and take pride in what we raise, build, bake, or grow. It’s late nights in the barn and early mornings in the wash rack. It’s kids learning that blue ribbons are earned—but blue jeans are lived in.

The 2025 Northwest cherry harvest is wrapping up. The trees gave us some of the best fruit we’ve seen in years—firm, sweet, and picture-perfect. But once again, growers across the region are left shaking their heads and tightening their belts. Because what came in the paycheck didn’t reflect the quality of the crop.

I’ve spent my life growing fruit in the Columbia River Gorge—pears, sweet cherries, and yes, my family has grown peaches in the past. I’ve supported our local creameries and watched our dairy farms fight to survive. So you can imagine how it felt to realize we’re now importing the very foods we produce so well right here at home.

They say tariffs are about fairness. They call them leverage. They tell us to "hold the line" for the good of the nation. But when you’re the one standing in the line of fire, all that tough talk starts to sound a little hollow.

Thoughts from the Tractor Seat: Labor in Limbo

I’ve been thinking a lot about the American dollar. Not the paper itself, but the worth behind it. What should a dollar really be? What should it buy? What does it stand for? From where I sit—on a tractor seat in the cherry orchards of The Dalles—there’s a growing sense that a dollar just doesn’t stretch like it used to. Inputs are up. Groceries are up. Fuel is up. And while prices climb, the value of hard work seems to shrink.

Just days ago, I stood at the edge of our orchard here in Wasco County, looking out over a sea of sweet cherries—blushing, full, and ready. The weather lined up. The quality is excellent. We should be celebrating a strong year. But instead, we’re fielding phone calls from neighbors and fellow growers asking: Where are the workers?

As I sit here on my tractor seat, the view stretches far beyond my orchard rows. These days, the pressures on family farms stretch just as far—across state lines, trade routes, and policy halls.