Harvest Through the Eyes of Marty

A note from Marty + 15% OFF during our Harvest Sale.

This email was sent

July 14, 2026 9:33am EDT

Is this your brand on Milled? Claim it.

Matte tone:

I grew up in farm country and attended a land-grant university—it was still called a college back then. Many of my friends grew up on farms, but surprisingly, I'd never actually been on one.

That changed when Sunrise Flour Mill partnered with a real farmer, and we were invited to Colorado for our first wheat harvest.

What an eye-opener.

From the moment we landed until we left later that day, we were immersed in farming. I came home with a whole new appreciation for the people who grow the food that ends up on all of our tables.

It all begins with the weather.

We Minnesotans like to joke that we talk about the weather all the time. Farmers do, too—but for very different reasons. Too much rain or too little, temperatures that swing too high or too low, or even a five-minute hailstorm can undo months of work.

The wheat has to be dry, so harvest doesn't begin until the dew has burned off—often around 9 or 10 in the morning. But once it starts, the combines usually run well into the night as long as it’s still dry.

Darrold had always dreamed of driving a combine, and he finally got his chance. Even with all the automation, he admitted he was more nervous than he expected. I was perfectly happy riding alongside, perched what felt like a mile above the field. Watching the combine make one perfect pass after another was mesmerizing.

So much has to go right, and so much is completely beyond a farmer's control. For someone like me, who has never been much of a gambler, thinking about everything that has to fall into place was enough to make my heart flutter a little.

I've always respected farmers, but now I admire them even more. They are among the smartest, hardest-working, and most resilient people I know. Every loaf of bread, every bowl of cereal, and every pancake begins with someone willing to take that gamble each season.

Ever since my first harvest in Colorado, I've never looked at a field of wheat the same way. Every bag of flour represents months of planning, hard work, long days, and no small amount of faith.

The next time you bake a loaf of bread, a pan of cookies, or a stack of pancakes, I hope you'll think for just a moment about the farmers who made it possible.

We certainly do.

All for now,