Meet the humans

I grew up on a dryland wheat farm in Eastern Washington between the farming communities of Warden and Othello, in the arid high desert homelands of Columbia-Sinkiuse peoples. The Kisler family settled there in 1905 and has farmed that same land for five generations- since my German-Russian grain-growing great grandparents Henry and Anna made their way from the Volga River region of Russia to the US, pregnant with my grandpa John.

Story has it that as our family and others began fleeing political unrest and economic hardship in Russia, some of them sewed wheat seeds into their clothing for safe keeping -- in hopes they would find land somewhere else to keep farming. The variety my family and others brought across the Atlantic is known as 'Turkey Red'. It was grown on the Kisler Farm for decades, and is still one of the varieties we grow organically here on our farm today.

My mom and dad met at a dance when they were teenagers and then got to work farming with my grandparents while raising 4 kids. I spent my days under endlessly open skies, surrounded by miles of wheat fields. I had an enormous amount of freedom and, at times, a decent amount of responsibility. It was pretty normal that by 8 years old, I was driving the old farm truck around trying to be useful and by 10, I was driving tractors. A rite of passage of sorts was around 12, when I started running the combine.

There were plenty of really long days in the field, filled with both the stress and the camaraderie of wheat harvest. Harvest has always been a profound marker of seasons for me and one I looked forward to all year, and still do. The intensity of those days and the rhythm of that life have deeply shaped my way of being. They taught me how to fix things, to make do, and to keep going.

I wanted to raise my own kids on a farm so that they would learn some of these same lessons and skills, and so they would feel the larger patterns that connect us and that put our lives in perspective. It is very gratifying that the boys are old enough now to work along side me in the fields and in the mill room. That they have spaces to learn and work, but also open fields where their minds can wander and wonder.

I have always been curious about the process and the challenges of farm work. When I went off to college, my feisty grandmother Eileen said to me, “Now remember you can take the boy from the farm, but you can’t take the farm from the boy." At the time I brushed it off as another funny thing my grandma said. She baked a lot of bread as I was growing up, and she often had to chase me away as I snuck under the bread cloths covering the rising dough to steal bits of fermenting dough.

Like Grandma Eileen forecast, the farm is still in me and I am grateful to be living this farmlife with my family, orienting our days around the seasons and growing, milling and baking grains.

Baylin grew up in the PNW and has a love of sailing and baking. She worked as production baker at Pane D'Amore Bakery in Port Townsend and came on board at Chimacum Valley Grainery to learn to mill and to get insights into the variety of whole grain flours.