Harvest of Thanks

Where Hope Takes Root: The Grit That Saved a 90-Year-Old Family Farm

Wed, 26 Nov 2025 22:21:32 GMT

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.”

Read More: Grape Growers Desperately Need You to Drink More Wine as They Grapple With a Glut of Uncontracted Grapes

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.

Harvesting the Good Life: Pennsylvania Farmer Continues to Run Silage Chopper at 96 Years Old

Fri, 27 Sep 2024 15:06:10 GMT

2023 Harvest of Thanks is a special edition of both AgDay and U.S. Farm Report. The show helps celebrate and honor traditions, while also sharing stories of gratitude. 2023 Harvest of Thanks is sponsored by Case IH and BASF .

Under a grey overcast sky, a mist is falling, coating every step as Paul Dotterer grabs the ladder rails of his Claas Jaguar 900. He throws his cane to the top platform and wills his knees into position on the damp metal rungs. Sturdy arms, flex with a lifetime of experience, as he pulls himself to the top of each step and eventually into the captain’s chair.

“I spent a lot of hours in this thing,” Dotterer says as he grabs the controls. “We got this new in 2001.”

He turns the key and the machine roars to life one more time. He won’t get much done in these muddy fields today, but he’ll move it into position to start chopping once the rows dry out.

“Now a days we can take a harvester out and do in an hour what used to take you two weeks,” chuckles Dotterer as his eyes survey the Nittany Valley in Pennsylvania.

At 96 years young, Paul has been harvesting these fields for decades and he’s still running hard.

“He still drives and so he’ll run for parts or whatever,” says son John Dotterer. “I think that he does pretty well for 96.”

“I like to drive my truck and my boys send me everywhere,” adds Paul. “I’m here or there to get stuff. I’m the gopher.”

A Difficult Path

Paul and his wife Jean were married in 1949. A couple of years later, with help from his father-in-law they bought a small 15 cow dairy farm in Mill Hall, PA for $12,500.

“Before I even got married, I said I’ll never marry a farmer because I was raised on a farm,” laughs Jean now 93. “We did well. It was a lot of work but the kids helped when they got older.”

Together they tackled the chores. Paul handled the farming, custom harvesting, milk hauling and machinery work. Jean did most of the milking in those early years.

“My biggest asset was my wife,” Paul says with heartfelt admiration. “She helped me so much and if wouldn’t have been for her I don’t know if I’d made it.”

Together the family and the farm grew.

“We always laugh about how years ago our Surge dealer said one day you might get as high as 35 cows,” says granddaughter Katie Dotterer. “I’m literally standing where there’s 1200 cows that are milked three times a day every day.”

Today, 3 generations work together with a continuous focus on making this a diversified business. Through the years the Dotterers have found success in everything from custom fieldwork, to hauling milk, running an Allis-Chalmers equipment dealership, and now agritourism.

“My brother started a sunflower maize and got into selling sweet corn,” says granddaughter and dairy feed manager Lori Butler. “We have a lot of custom businesses and aren’t all in one business which is a good thing financially.”

Balancing all of these moving parts has always been a challenge.

“We just always try not to spend any more we absolutely have to,” adds son Larry Dotterer. “Sometimes I think we trip over a lot of dollars to pick up nickels.”

That frugality, a gift from family heads, Paul and Jean, continues to pay dividends.

“I just have to keep pinching myself because I think things are going too well sometimes,” says son John Dotterer with a smirk. “It’s fun and it’s better than a real job.”

As the third generation finds their feet, this well-oiled operation is hoping to build on its solid foundation.

“We’ve cobbled things up just to get through some hard times but we’re now getting to the phase of the farm where we’re going to redo and remodel some dairy barns,” says grandson Douglas Dotterer.

Today’s growing and modern farm isn’t lost on Paul. He knows building this business now would be much more difficult.

“If [young people] want to get into it today they better have a lot of money, a lot of effort and a lot of ambition,” says Paul. “It won’t come easy.”

A Viral Sensation

Back in August, dressed in his work whites on day 1 of harvest, his granddaughter, Lori handed him a sign and snapped a photo.

“I was like Pop we’re just going to do a quick photo,” recalls Butler. “He was just, we’re doing what? So, we took that quick photo and it kind of just blew up.”

A glimmer of glee twinkled in his eye as Paul wrapped his hands around a plaque most often used in those ambitious back-to-school photos.

“It’s just the look on my grandfather’s face,” says Katie. “You can just tell how happy he is.”

That joy, proudly posed in front of his Jaguar 900 found its way to social media and burned a viral path across the internet. His story and pure zeal for harvest on full display as the comments and shares poured in.

“I never won any prizes for my good looks,” laughs Paul.

“He can’t put in the hours he used to, but I think it would literally kill him if he couldn’t come here every day,” says Katie. “The farm is what keeps him going and this has been his passion his entire life.”

A Lifetime of Lessons

With the hustle of harvest on pause today, Paul takes time to reflect and appreciate the quiet moments.

“It’s just unbelievable the amount of change that has come in my lifetime,” he reflects. “The equipment makes a big difference in what we do and it just keeps getting bigger and bigger. It used to be a lot of sweat and a lot of tears. Now, it’s just sitting in an air-conditioned cab.”

After a lifetime of sharing, his team continues to turn the lessons Paul taught them into action. When asked what they’ve learned from his example, the pattern is clear.

“Don’t take anything for granted and work hard,” says Douglas.

“When the sun shines, make hay and if you have weather, move, move, move,” adds John.

“Enjoy your vacations, but come back ready to work,” laughs Lori.

“Do what you got to do, and the cows come first,” follows Larry.

If you ask Paul what he’s learned from his decades amid the rows and amongst the cows.

“You just learn to appreciate what you’ve got,” says Paul. “Some year’s harvest wasn’t near what we’d like to have, while in other years it would be plentiful.”

As he drives toward his next field and his next harvest he might be slowing down, a little.

“I had to take his motorcycle from three years ago,” adds Larry. “No, really!”

Paul will tell you he’s nowhere near his final pass.

“I’m convinced if you like what you do, don’t sit down when you retire,” John says reflecting on his father’s legacy. “You won’t last long.”

Watch More Harvest of Thanks Stories:

Rare Tractor Treasure Kept By Virginia Family For Nearly 100 Years Symbolizes the Grit And Toil of 7 Generations

Hall of Fame Football Coach Credits Indiana Farm Roots

For more human interest stories, read:

She Found Her Fiancé Clinging to Life After a Major Anhydrous Leak and Then Miraculously Helped Save Him

Fri, 15 Dec 2023 23:04:13 GMT

This story originally aired on U.S. Farm Report in December 2023. One year after the accident occurred, we are once again sharing the miraculous rescue during our 2024 Harvest of Thanks Special.
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It was calm across the rolling fields of central Iowa on Nov. 19, 2023. It was a Sunday, and Kendra Vander Leest says it was prime for fall fieldwork.

“Before lunch, Joe decided it was fit to pull ammonia,” Kendra says.

Her fiancé, Joe Rempe, spent all afternoon in the field that day applying anhydrous ammonia.

“When evening rolled around, I checked on his Life360 and everything seemed fine at that point.

About 7:30 p.m., she heard the tractor crawling toward the house. She thought it meant Joe was calling it quits for the night.

“I was in the kitchen making our daughter Josie’s bedtime bottle and prepping her bottles for daycare on Monday. I went to put her bottles in our daycare bag and happened to look up, out the window, and I saw the tractor and a plume of anhydrous smoke. At that point, it was like time started moving really slowly,” Kendra says.

A Giant Plume of Smoke

Seeing that plume of smoke, and knowing what it was, her heart dropped.

“I knew it was Joe,” she recalls. “I knew instantly it was Joe. I knew what I was seeing, but it was just surreal.”

Full of fear, she rushed to grab her phone.

“As I’m running up the steps, I’m thinking, ‘Oh my gosh, he’s gone. There’s no way.’ As bad as that is, I thought there’s no way [he’s alive].”

She decided to call him, knowing Joe might not be alive to answer.

“I knew I couldn’t run out there into the plume. Otherwise, I would wind up dead or hurt. So, I called him and he answered,” she says.

“I think she said, ‘Joe!’ All I could say was ‘help me,’” he remembers.

“I hung up and called 911, but I knew by the way he said ‘help me’ he was badly hurt,” Kendra recalls.

The 911 Call

Farm Journal was able to track down the 911 call Kendra made that day.

“Pella 911, where’s your emergency?” says the dispatcher.

“We have an anhydrous ammonia accident,” Kendra says. “I need an ambulance. I need a HazMat crew. This is bad, bad.”

The 911 call even captured the moment Kendra ran outside her house and found Joe.

“I’m on the phone with 911. You need water? Oh, God,” you can hear Kendra say. “Just lay down. I’m going to get water. Lay down. I’m going to get water.”

“All right, he inhaled?” you can hear the 911 dispatch operator ask.

“Yes, his lungs are burned. He said his lungs are burning,” Kendra says.

“The tank is completely unloading, but there’s no houses nearby for anyone to get hurt. It’s, it’s bad,” she says.

Kendra Found Joe Clinging to Life

Kendra says when she rushed outside her house, she found Joe crawling on the gravel road, which was about 200 yards from the tractor. She says he was fighting for his life.

“I could hear him coughing. He was crawling toward the house, and as soon as he heard me, he just collapsed,” she says.

Kendra says the second she saw the plume of smoke, she immediately knew it was anhydrous. That’s because her full-time job is with the Iowa Department of Agriculture in the Feed and Fertilizer Bureau. Part of her job is conducting anhydrous ammonia inspections at retailer facilities across the state. From her training and experience, she knew exactly how bad the damage could be.

“He didn’t have any burns on his skin, so the water I grabbed didn’t really do any good. There was nothing for me to dump the water on. All his burns were internal in his nasal cavities, his throat, his lungs, those were all burned,” she says.

“I was badly luck burned inside,” Joe says.

Fire and rescue responded, and a Life Flight carried Joe to Des Moines. From there, he was transferred to Iowa City.

The Anhydrous Accident

As Kendra was driving to the hospital, she still didn’t know what had just transpired in the field. All she knew is Joe was applying anhydrous, something he’s done for nearly 30 years.

“I had just got hooked up to a new set of twins [anhydrous tanks],” Joe says.

Typically, the anhydrous tanks have a hose holder, but he says that pair of tanks they had received did not.

“So, I tried to put a loop on the hoses. Well, my hose must have come loose. And when I was turning on the corner, the left front tire of the twin tank must have run over my hose and then broke the front or pulled the threads out. And the hose came apart,” he says.

He was toward the back of a nearby field when he heard a pop, and gas immediately started shooting straight toward tractor.

“Gas was blowing right at me. It was hitting the back of the cab, the vapor, and going around the tractor,” Joe says.

He tried to turn different directions to change where the smoke was shooting, but he says there was no wind that day. So, it didn’t do any good.

“The whole field was turned into fog, and I knew I had to go to Plan B. I did not know what to do,” he says.

That’s when Joe decided his only option was to head toward the house, all while he couldn’t see and was losing his ability to breathe.

“I knew where the bottom terrace would come out, so I knew I could follow the terrace,” he remembers.

But as he got to a crossing that was in a low spot of the field, he says he couldn’t see anything.

“I lost where I was. I just drove by feel,” he remembers.

Somehow, Joe made it past the crossing, and at that point, the smoke cleared enough to see a gravel road.

“I came east towards the house, and when I crested the hill I was blacking out, because I was losing air. And I really thought I was pretty close to dying,” he says.

At that point, the tractor stopped moving. Inside the cab of the tractor, Joe’s eyes were already so badly burned, he couldn’t see his phone to call 911 or Kendra.

“And I remember I was so darn scared to get out of the tractor. I only pulled 1.1 acres off that tank, so I knew that sucker had a lot of anhydrous in it, and it kept blowing at the tractor. I was so scared to get out, but I knew I had to because it was my only choice.”

At that point, Joe put on a sweatshirt he had with him, as a way to protect his skin. He also grabbed a bottle of water he knew he had on the floor. After he climbed out of the tractor cab, he tried to run toward the house, but he quickly ran out of air.

“And I went down, so I started crawling,” he says.

Diagnosis: Extensive Internal Burns

When Joe was airlifted to a Des Moines hospital, Kendra says she still didn’t know if he was going to survive.

“Two doctors came in and told us what was going on. They told us they could not intubate him because his throat was swelling shut. And so they cut in a cricothyrotomy, which is an emergency trach, to get air to him,” she says.

The doctors used saline bags with tubes to try and flush his eyes out. Once in Iowa City, Kendra learned even more.

“When I got to Iowa City, they said that he had grade one to grade two burns in his sinus cavities, throat and deep into his lungs,” says Kendra. “It basically burnt his vocal cords, his voice box, and his mouth and tongue were completely swollen.”

Kendra says the anhydrous burned the outer-most layer of his eyes, and even today, Joe can’t see enough to read, nor can he stand bright light.

“The only thing the eye doctor said he can’t fix is the dry eyes. So, he’ll just take gel eyedrops forever, but considering everything that happened, we will take that,” she says.

Kendra Nursed Joe Back to Health

Joe spent 10 days in the hospital, but the real work for Kendra started when they sent Joe home.

“I have taken about a month off work, and the nurses trained me how to take care of him, how to administer his meds, and crush medications,” she says.

It’s something Kendra does every 45 minutes. A home health nurse comes twice a week, but the best nurse, Joe says, is Kendra.

“She’s…. good,” says Joe.

“She Saved Me.”

In this Christmas miracle, Joe knows Kendra is his angel.

“She saved me, there is no doubt in my mind,” he says.

In Joe’s eyes, November 19, 2023, is filled with many miracles, including Kendra seeing that something wasn’t right.

“If she was over there, or another spot, she wouldn’t have seen me. She had to be right there, and she happened to be looking [outside]. I would say there was about 15 to 20 miracles from that tractor to the corner of the yard, to Des Moines and to Iowa City.”

Joe fought for his life that day and now shares his story of survival.

“I started yelling to myself, in my head, ‘You cannot die. You cannot leave Kendra by herself,’” he says.

Joe’s story of survival is also thanks to Kendra, who’s cherishing the fact she can celebrate this Christmas with all their family.

Harvest of Thanks: Paying Tribute to the Father of the Green Revolution

Wed, 23 Nov 2022 20:20:24 GMT

South of Cresco, Iowa, you will find a small farmstead with quite a story.

“By the time they came to live in this house, which was 1922, Norm was about eight years old or so and they had just bought the farm a year or two before that. It was 56 acres,” says Tom Spindler, with the Norman Borlaug Heritage Foundation.

Spindler is speaking of young Norman Borlaug. Next to the home you will find the school Norm attended as a boy. Both Norman’s father and grandfather attended the very same school. They ended their formal education without going to high school. The story would be different for Norman.

“They saw in him that he had a spark. I remember Charlotte, his younger sister, said the family always felt even when he was a teenage boy this guy had something in him that was something special,” Spindler says.

The family drove Norman 14 miles into Cresco where he would board for the week, then come home on the weekends to help on the family’s farm. Norman’s agriculture teacher and wrestling coach encouraged him to go to college. His grandfather, Nels, helped make that happen.

“As Norm decided to go to the University of Minnesota, he gave him 11 silver dollars and he said to Norm, ‘Norm boy you take this and pay your tuition for the first quarter. Feed your head now so you can feed your belly later,’ Spindler says.

Norman would go on to feed much more than his own belly. Borlaug helped develop wheat varieties in Mexico, and later in Pakistan, India and other locations that helped feed and save the lives of millions of people. His work led many to call him the father of the green revolution. Today, the farm where Borlaug was raised continues his mission.

“We do lots of educational programming here,” Spindler says. “We host two inspire days. We call them inspire days because Norman Borlaug was a very inspiring person. We target mostly fifth grade, and we have fifth graders from probably a dozen different schools that come.”

Borlaug’s work was recognized by many around the world. Notably, he won the 1970 Nobel Peace Prize and later the Presidential Medal of Freedom among many awards in his lifetime. But as Spindler shares, Borlaug was always a teacher at heart – a mission they carry on today – and a story that shows the impact one farm boy can have on the world.

“Look what he did in his lifetime — from being a farm kid feeding his horses, the cows and the chickens and farming that land with horses and then he is credited with saving hundreds of millions of lives,” he says.