{"id":25697,"date":"2025-09-12T13:50:49","date_gmt":"2025-09-12T20:50:49","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/extension.wsu.edu\/skagit\/?p=25697"},"modified":"2025-09-12T14:00:12","modified_gmt":"2025-09-12T21:00:12","slug":"the-weight-of-the-soil-an-industry-at-the-crossroads","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/extension.wsu.edu\/skagit\/2025\/09\/12\/the-weight-of-the-soil-an-industry-at-the-crossroads\/","title":{"rendered":"The Weight of the Soil: An Industry at the Crossroads"},"content":{"rendered":"\n

Read Full Article: 3,700 WA farms shut down in 5 years Why?<\/a>,
By Mara Mellits<\/a> Seattle Times staff reporter<\/p>\n\n\n\n

There\u2019s an old saying in the Valley: the land remembers.<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

It remembers calloused hands. It remembers the boots of grandfathers and the bare feet of children. It remembers harvests hard-earned and winters survived. But what the land cannot carry\u2014what it was never meant to bear\u2014is the silent weight on a farmer\u2019s chest when the math no longer adds up, and the soul begins to crack.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Don McMoran, Director of Skagit County Extension and fourth-generation farmer, stands on that kind of soil every day. The same fields his great-grandfather chose as home now face an uncertain future\u2014not because Don stopped showing up, but because the world around him changed faster than the soil could keep up.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

On a Wednesday morning in Mount Vernon, Don is not alone. His daughters, Allie and Abbie, both 16, move across the gravel with purpose. One carries supplies. The other helps vacuum fescue seed from a truck. They\u2019re strong. Smart. Capable. But the story written into their DNA\u2014the story of family farming\u2014is starting to feel less like an inheritance and more like a burden.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cI don\u2019t blame them,\u201d Don says.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This isn\u2019t sentiment. It\u2019s fact. It\u2019s the kind of truth you say with a shrug, not tears. Pressfield might call it Resistance<\/em>\u2014that invisible force that tells a warrior to lay down his sword. But for today\u2019s farmers, Resistance doesn\u2019t come cloaked in laziness or fear. It wears the mask of reality: soaring input costs, bureaucratic red tape, mental fatigue, and a marketplace that seems more interested in trend than tradition.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"Two<\/figure>\n\n\n\n
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In five years, Washington lost 3,700 farms.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

They didn\u2019t go bankrupt all at once. They faded\u2014silently\u2014under the weight of diesel prices, labor costs, and the question every farmer asks at 4:30 a.m.: Why am I still doing this?<\/em><\/p>\n\n\n\n

Don knows that question intimately.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u201cThere was a time,\u201d he says, \u201cwhen you\u2019d work hard and you could buy a new piece of land or replace your baler. Now, you bust your tail and end up asking the bank for a loan just to survive.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

It\u2019s not just financial. It\u2019s spiritual.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"Don<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

To farm is to live with failure as a neighbor and legacy as a shadow. You\u2019re not just raising crops\u2014you\u2019re guarding a memory, trying not to let it slip through your hands. But the harder you hold on, the more it cuts.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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When Don saw how many in his community were unraveling\u2014good men, tough women\u2014he didn\u2019t keep working in silence. He did what few do in a profession built on stoicism: he spoke.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

And he built something.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

He and Dr. Conny Kirchhoff launched a free therapy voucher program for farmers and farmworkers\u2014six sessions, no questions, virtual or in-person. No pickup trucks parked outside an office. No gossip in the co-op.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Just help.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\"Pizza<\/figure>\n\n\n\n

And from that, something beautiful grew\u2014Pizza for Producers<\/em>, a dough-and-conversation model that gives farmers a place to breathe, laugh, and remember they\u2019re not alone. It\u2019s not therapy in the clinical sense. It\u2019s communion. And sometimes, that\u2019s where healing begins.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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But what if none of this is enough?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

What if Allie and Abbie never come back to the land?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

What if the story ends here?<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Don\u2019s been asked that. He doesn\u2019t flinch. \u201cI\u2019d love to work myself out of farm stress prevention,\u201d he says. \u201cBut this year, it\u2019s needed more than ever.\u201d<\/p>\n\n\n\n

This is not the part of the story with triumph and trumpets. It\u2019s the part where the hero picks up his shovel again. Not because it\u2019s easy. Not because the ending is guaranteed. But because that\u2019s what you do.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Because the land remembers.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

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At Skagit County Extension, we\u2019re not just holding workshops. We\u2019re holding the line. We\u2019re connecting people to mental health support, creating spaces for the next generation to find their own way into agriculture, and giving voice to those who\u2019ve been told to bite their lip and keep pushing.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

But maybe, just maybe, it\u2019s time we stopped pushing and started reaching.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

To the community.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

To our neighbors.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

To each other.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Because if we lose these farms, we don\u2019t just lose fields. We lose stories. We lose roots. We lose the people who remember what this valley used<\/em> to sound like in August\u2014harvest in the air, laughter on the wind, and the quiet assurance that we were building something that would last.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Maybe we still are.<\/p>\n\n\n\n

\u2014<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Read Full Article: 3,700 WA farms shut down in 5 years Why?<\/a>,
By Mara Mellits<\/a> Seattle Times staff reporter<\/p>\n\n\n\n

Because this isn\u2019t just about farming.
It\u2019s about people.
And people matter.<\/p>\n\n