I had someone tell me this week that every farmer in America becomes an ag lobbyist during National Ag Week and that’s why they don’t like it. Maybe it’s my own naiveté, maybe it was the sunny day, or maybe I just like to be contrary, but I thought to myself, “Then, how great would it be if every week was National Ag Week?”

I don’t say or write things like “still farming” to be glib or combative. I say and write them to be an "ag-vocate" and as a glimmer in what feels like a dark time in our agricultural history, a small voice saying, “I’m still here. I still love the land and what I do.”

As I’ve put together mini blogs this week, I was reminded of what I love most about being a farmer: the sheer joy of growing something from seemingly nothing. I have always argued that agriculture is a calling, not a job you decide to do because it will pay your bills and put your kids through college. Farmers and ranchers choose this life because they cannot imagine doing anything else.

I could rattle off any number of statistics about people who farm; sprinkle in some anecdotal evidence to substantiate my claims. But I’m not going to. 

I am the granddaughter of two very different farm families. When the Columbia Basin Project was advertised, my maternal grandpa saw an opportunity to create his own farm, separate from the one he’d grown up on and came West to learn irrigated farming in the desert. My paternal grandparents grew tree fruit in the Yakima Valley with my dad and his siblings drawing lots to see who would be unlucky enough to light smudge pots on chilly mornings. Farmers are my people for at least three generations back.

So, to wrap up National Ag Week, I would like to salute all the farmers and ranchers of Washington state and elsewhere for the work they do, for the passion they show, and for the care they provide to their families, their employees, their neighbors, and their land. 

And say, I’m still farming.