Farmer’s faith: Planting Northwest wheat, despite challenges

Inky black ravens light on newly seeded ground.

Andy Juris is planting spring soft white wheat at an elevation of 3,000 feet outside of Bickleton, Washington. The crop will be harvested starting in August. Then, it’s bound for the Columbia River barges, out to Portland or Vancouver. It’ll then be sent upon the ocean for Japan, Korea or Taiwan. This type of wheat makes crackers, sponge cakes and cookies.

But this is a crop planted on hope. 

“Farmers like us … we’re willing to work hard and we’re willing to put in the work that’s necessary to make this go,” Juris said. “And to feed our country and other countries.” 

Wheat, like other crops in the Northwest, are at, or below, the cost of production right now. That means Andy Juris is planting this crop on faith that the price will rise by summer harvest.
(Credit: Anna King / NWPB)

He’s paying more to run his 6,000 acres. There’s costs for fuel, tires and fertilizer. Plus, there’s a lot of competition from around the world. That competition means that Juris and other Northwest farmers can’t charge more for their grain. There’s not much he can do to change any of that. 

“And the only thing that you can do is to decide whether to plant the crop or not,” Juris said. “And you take a step of faith, and put it in the ground and hope that investment pays back.” 

Juris is the fourth generation here. The ground is near the Simcoe Highlands, at the base of the foothills that rise into Mount Adams. 

“I think the country has to have a conversation about who they want growing their food,” he said. “There is a good chance that if a few things go wrong, the day of the American farmer is gonna get real close to being done.” 

There’s also concerns about his farm’s future. Juris and his wife are not sure if his daughter will come home to farm this ground when he retires. 

“And I’m not the only one in that position,” he said. “You know, when I was a kid, there was like 40 different farms up here. Today, of any size, there’s only six of us. Of those six, I can think of two right off the top of my head that don’t have anyone coming home to farm.”

Ultimately, for Juris, it comes down to faith. Faith there will be spring rains to grow his grain. Faith the price will come up. When asked if he has a lot of conversations with God out in the fields, Juris replies: 

“Yeah, some good and some bad. Yeah, when you’re this close to nature, you feel a little closer to the Creator of it.” 

Faith: Like in 1967. A horrible drought. There was no crop. And in an act of faith, the farmers went to town. They built Grace Church of Mabton. Juris’ family still attends there today.

On the edge of the field, Juris slows the tractor for a moment, turns his rig around and heads back the other way. It’s early afternoon. Juris planned to seed — with headlights on — until 10 p.m.

Andy Juris turns toward the edge of his field in his tractor as he seeds his soft white wheat.
(Credit: Anna King / NWPB)