There’s No Place Like Home

“No one realizes how beautiful it is to travel until he comes home and rests his head on his old, familiar pillow.”

Boy if that isn’t true.

I’ve been on the road a lot the last few weeks.  I traveled to Southern Idaho to visit some producers for feature stories in our upcoming Herd Reference Edition.  The week after that, I spent four days in Sonoma, California where my eyes were opened to a seemingly new world.

The Idaho trip was dotted with small, rural, farm towns where we were met with friendly faces and welcoming people.  The high desert landscape, farmed river bottoms, and lava rock surfaces made for a beautiful and extremely varied drive.  On the other hand, it also made the grass country of south-central Montana look like a lush cow’s paradise, especially for the first of August.

While Idaho was familiar, yet fascinatingly different, California provided a glimpse of agriculture, landscapes, communities, and people that were otherwise foreign to me.  It was certainly an interesting experience, but I must say I breathed a huge sigh of, maskless, fresh air-filled relief when we stepped off the plane in Bozeman Sunday night.

We weren’t able to see a lot of the countryside or tour any ranches while in California, but we did take a wine and vineyard tour which I found captivating.  Growing up in agriculture, I always knew that growing and producing food or beverage, of any kind, requires much hard work, dedication, and passion.  But it isn’t until you see firsthand how these productions occur that it is truly appreciated.  While I’m familiar with beef, grains, pork, lamb, and even dairy production, I knew absolutely nothing about wine production.  I myself, until last week, was as guilty as the typical consumer picking out a “steak that came from the store,” for going to the wine aisle, questioning the high price, choosing a cheaper one, and never thinking twice about the process it took to get that bottle of wine there.

It made me realize that it can be frustrating to us as producers that our consumer doesn’t think past the store shelf, but I paused to ask myself, “why would they?”.  I never did when it came to making wine purchase decisions.  It’s our job to open the door for them to see for themselves and let the questions, and appreciation, follow.  Next time I go to purchase wine, I will think back to the exact brand, our tour guide, the vineyard, and the insane amount of physical labor that went into producing that bottle and enjoy it with more appreciation.  I will also remember the experience and model that brought me to that appreciation and attempt to recreate it for any consumers wanting to learn more about “the steak from the store.”  California ‘Wine Country,’ riddled with an entirely different branch of agriculture, taught me something that our whole industry could apply – open your doors and they will come with eager minds hoping to learn.

The community and people of Sonoma also taught me a valuable lesson:  I am blessed to be from Montana and be a part of the ag industry.

I realize that the small portion of the state we visited does not represent Californians as whole, but I have to admit, I have never been to a community where I felt so unwelcomed.  And it was all because of masks.  While it was uncomfortable to be scorned by complete strangers while standing in an outdoor line at a farmer’s market, social distanced from everyone, for not having my mask over my nose at times, it was an awakening experience.  While it was hurtful to hear someone mock us under their breath for walking down the sidewalk without a mask on, but keeping an appropriate distance from others, it showed me what this pandemic is doing to so much of our country.

Here in Montana, particularly in our small ranch communities, we have not witnessed the craziness that the Coronavirus pandemic has created.  In Montana, we too, have a mask mandate in place and whether you believe they are effective or not, or choose to wear one or not, one thing remains a cornerstone of our rural communities and that’s kindness.

I was saddened by the fact that over the past several months, as our country has grown more and more divided, it has become acceptable to be blatantly rude to complete strangers.  It has become acceptable to make someone else’s choices your business and hold it against them if you don’t agree.  It has become acceptable to talk disrespectfully to someone you have never met and will never see again simply because of political differences.

I understand masks are mandated in California and I’m not here to share my opinions on their efficacy or the reaction to the Coronavirus outbreak.  However, when common decency and respect for our fellow Americans, regardless of their race, religion, sex, or choice to wear a mask or not, is lost, it’s disheartening.  And that’s what I witnessed when leaving my safe bubble of not just Montana, but particularly the agricultural community.

A trip to Idaho ranches and California Wine Country are most certainly contrasting experiences, but both made me appreciate home.  Analyzing just why I was excited to return home from each state reminded me of the blessing it is to be a part of this wonderful industry.  While Idaho didn’t look like home, staying within my familiar ag family made me feel welcomed.  In California, we were thrown into not just different landscapes, but an entirely different demographic of people.  And I’ll be the first to say, I am so happy to be where I am today.

It really is true, the beauty in traveling is returning home to the familiar when you’re in the right place.