WEEKLY UPDATES FROM THE FARM

This week I’m heading to Avila to pack up fresh-picked Gala apples — one of those fruits that only grace us for a short window, and when they do, it’s a gift. That’s the truth of summer produce: it’s fleeting, it’s fragile, and it asks us to savor it while it lasts.

I spent some time in LA this weekend and it was such a powerful reminder of what makes America beautiful: cultures, languages, and traditions all woven together to build something greater. I don’t get out much, and honestly, it felt like a nudge - a reminder that we all should step outside of our routines to experience and honor the richness of diversity around us. It’s the heartbeat of this country.

This morning I spent time with the guys in the field. I’m making a reel to share their faces, their hands in the soil, their sweat in the morning light - to feel the connection between their hard work and the food on your table. While with them, I felt their drive - to work hard, to live a good life, to be happy. I felt so lucky to share conversation with them, to hear their laughter, to see the pride in what they do.

In last week’s newsletter, I shared some hard truths - how the cruelty we’re seeing today mirrors the past in ways that are impossible to ignore. Immigration raids, masked enforcement agents, families torn apart… I called it what I see it as: a modern-day Gestapo. Not a metaphor - a mirror. And honestly, the weight of it hasn’t left me.

Summer is cranking. Our team is in the fields by 6 a.m. and working hard until 4 p.m. These longer days bring a whole lot of work, but also a whole lot of opportunity - and a whole lot of food.Strawberry season is winding down, but we have a lot coming in this week and they’re extra sweet. Same goes for our beautiful peaches - they deserve to be enjoyed. Add both to your box this week at a discount to stock up and let summer taste like summer.

From sunrise to sunset, through blazing sun and heavy loads, the people working our fields are smiling.They are not just workers - they’re the lifeblood of this farm. They pick, they pack, they lift, and they show up every single day with grit, pride, and a sense of purpose. Many of them are immigrants - here not to take, but to build something better. They pay taxes. They support families. They feed communities. They make this whole system work. They're woven into the fabric of my life.

There are weeks when it’s hard to know what to write about. This isn’t one of them.With ICE raids ramping up again - tearing hard-working people from their jobs, families, and lives - it's impossible to stay silent. I understand the conversation around documentation. But let’s be honest: this country has intentionally made the immigration process out of reach for many. It’s a system built on barriers, not pathways.

The land feels alive right now — buzzing bees, bursting berries, and rows of vegetables soaking up the summer sun and our sunflowers in bloom. There’s something magical about this time of year, when the days stretch long and the harvest rolls in fast and full.

As I walk the farm each week, I’m reminded that this food doesn’t just grow from the earth to magically appear harvested— it’s brought to life by hands. Real, skilled hands. Hands that know the rhythm of the seasons, the language of soil, and the weight of hard work.