In the rolling hills of Napa Valley’s Los Carneros region, the scene often looks idyllic. Morning fog drapes the vineyards, and the quiet hum of farm life feels timeless. But behind the postcard-perfect setting stands a family that has survived nearly 90 years of grit, risk and reinvention — and a fourth-generation farmer who refused to let 2024 be the end of their story.
“I am the fourth generation carrying on this family legacy,” says grape grower Jennifer Thomson, walking the same ground her great-grandmother once chose with remarkable instinct.
A Legacy Born From the Dust Bowl
Long before Napa Valley became synonymous with world-class wine, the Thomson family put down roots here in 1938. Thomson’s great-grandmother, Jenny Ophelia Barnum Thomson — a descendant of the famed Barnum circus family — had the courage to pursue opportunity when most would have turned back.
“It was the Great Dust Bowl and the Great Depression driving many families west for new opportunity,” Thomson says. “As migration was happening toward the West Coast for better economic opportunities, they moved here and were able to purchase this land.”
What she bought wasn’t just acreage. It was a vibrant Carneros hub complete with orchards, worker housing and a blacksmith shop. Women couldn’t legally own land at the time, but the deed was placed in her name for only a day, a testament to the trailblazer she was. Then, the land deed was moved into her husband’s name. But the vision, Thomson says, was her great-grandmother’s.
“For her to have that foresight to take that risk and purchase land here — you think about that today,” Thomson says. “She was doing what any family does: contributing to the family. There was water in the Carneros Creek, there were prunes, pears and apples already planted, and they had the ingenuity and engineering to successfully farm. Sometimes you just have to lead with your intuition, and I think that’s what she was doing.”
A Daughter Returns Home — and a New Fight Begins
Four generations later, that same intuition runs deep. In 2009, Thomson left her job in San Francisco and came home to take over the ranch from her father, George.
“Did I ever think Jen would be the one to take over?” George says with a small laugh. “No. I am surprised. I am thankful.”
When she arrived, the wine industry was in the middle of the 2008–2009 recession.
“When I took over in 2009, my father says to me, ‘You picked the absolute worst time to get into farming,’” Thomson recalls. “And then 2024 and 2025 happened. Farmers ask one another, ‘Is this as bad as 2008 or 2009? Is it better? Worse? Did we just forget?’ Because I took over so young, I already was prepared more than my peers.”
But today’s pressures, she says, feel heavier.
“There are not as many channels for sales, not as many stable partners to work with. If I’m a betting woman, I do think 2025 and going into 2026 will be more of a struggle than ever before for the California wine industry.”
So, why is it so challenging for grape growers today? It’s complex. Not only has demand dwindled, with a Gallup poll showing alcohol consumption is at a 90-year low, but an abundant supply the past few years has suffocated the grape growing region. As more vineyards take vines out, that will help the supply situation, but it’s coming at a cost. The other issue is the sellers, like Thomson, and buyers, as in wineries, haven’t always come to the table to find a solution. Cheap imports have flooded the market, and it’s at a much cheaper price than what it costs to grow grapes in California.
Thomson’s father agrees with her, saying the California grape and wine industry is facing one of its most challenging chapters yet.
“It is very challenging,” George says. “The market is sort of against us. Tastes are changing. There are more government regulations on what you can do with your property to make a living.”
Still, he keeps believing.
“Do I think we’ll get out of this? I have my fingers crossed. With people like Jennifer, I believe they’ll keep working at it. They won’t give in easily,” George says.
The Year the Grapes Had No Home
But nothing prepared the family for what came in 2024.
“This home ranch produces a little over 300 tons of grapes annually,” Jennifer says. “And in 2024, nearly all of those 300 tons are dropped on the ground and go unharvested.”
All of them?
“All of them,” she says quietly.
Demand had plummeted. Oversupply strangled the region. And for the first time in the ranch’s nine-decade history, not a single cluster had a home.
It was a moment when most growers would consider walking away. But Jennifer didn’t.
Refusal to Quit
But this is where the story gets good, and where you’re reminded you can’t underestimate the determination of a family farmer, especially Thomson. After all, grit is woven into this family’s DNA. And she leaned on every ounce of it.
“In 2025, I make a true farmer with good ingenuity,” she says. “I make sure I shake hands. I talk with previous clients. I source new clients. I put a lot of hustle into exploring new relationships and cultivating the ones we already have. And we are fortunate this year to sell all of our grapes.”
Her father says the same drive is what transformed the ranch the moment she took over 15 years ago.
“We were able to make a living at it, at least pay the taxes,” George says. “But the property really never makes money until Jennifer says, ‘I think I can do that.’ I hand her the keys and the checkbook.”
George says he always had an off-farm job, but for this first time in his memory, Thomson’s keen business sense and intuition turned the family vineyard into one that could finally support itself.
“Jennifer turns it around for the first time in my life that the property actually supports itself,” he says, emotion thick in his voice. “How proud am I? Extremely proud. She has the foresight, the hunger, the passion. The intelligence. She had all the parts. She has them now.”
One of the Last Family Farmers Standing
In a region rapidly shifting toward corporate ownership, Jennifer is part of a shrinking group — farmers who still drive their own tractors, repair their own equipment and deliver their own fruit.
“I feel more of a pull to the land than I ever predicted when I first took over,” she says. “I took over to help my family and retain this ranch for future generations. But working alongside our crew for 15 years, working with winery partners who value our family legacy and this 90-year-old ranch — I certainly feel much more drawn to the land than I ever think I would.”
Some estimates point to less than 25% of the growers left in the region are true family farmers, a dwindling group that is fighting to remain rooted here.
Gratitude Amid the Hardship
Despite the hardships, Thomson carries deep gratitude — especially this Thanksgiving season.
“I’m really grateful my great-grandmother has the foresight in 1938 to buy a wonderful piece of land with wonderful water availability,” she says. “I have a great-grandfather and grandfather who worked with the Federal Soil Conservation Department and built an on-stream reservoir. It allows us to irrigate our crops and keeps our vines healthier.”
She is thankful for her community, too.
“I’m thankful for that core group of family farmers. We band together. We support one another. We share our successes and we share our failures. That camaraderie can’t be duplicated.”
A Story Still Being Written
The Thomsons’ story, once born out of Dust Bowl desperation, endures because each generation chooses resilience over retreat. And in 2024 — after a year when every grape fell to the ground — it was Jennifer’s resolve that carried the legacy forward.
Every grape has a home again in 2025. And because of her, the family’s story isn’t just continuing, it’s growing stronger.
