At a time when farmers are doing more with less – less water, less land, less income, and less support – Southwest Colorado agriculture continues to optimistically push forward and find local solutions. Yet even as they rise to the challenge, our governments often look past them. What does it say about us when land, worked and cherished for generations, is no longer viable for the very people whose hands make it thrive?
The 2025 Southwest Colorado Food and Ag Summit, held at Blue Lake Ranch Wednesday, spotlighted both the passion and the pain of the regional agricultural sector. Around 80 attendees came not for accolades but because they believe in the land. They came to show up for food access and equitability, for community markets, and for the supply chains that feed us all. These are people who face not just the poetic challenges of “earth, water, fire, and wind” but the daily, often invisible barriers rooted in poor governance.
Shrinking Farms, Rising Pressure
According to the 2022 Census of Agriculture, Montezuma County had 1,017 farms – down 9% from 2017. While total land in farms fell just 1%, the average farm size rose by 10%, highlighting a growing consolidation trend. Who can still afford to farm?
Despite managing nearly 700,000 acres, these operations generated $37.87 million in market value in 2022 – a slim 1.94% of Montezuma County's total GDP. This narrow margin doesn’t account for the extensive economic contribution farmers make through local spending, employment, and cultural preservation. Nor does it reflect their social value – something that rarely shows up in spreadsheets. It also begs the question: what would the industry produce if it were truly supported by local decision-makers and data was collected to include them, to highlight their contributions?
Voices from the Ground
Heather Otter of Region 9 Economic Development summarized the challenge well: “The summit highlighted the remarkable dedication and collaborative spirit of our farmers … Yet, the stark reality is that we are faced with changes in the water cycle, lack of affordable land for young farmers, and state and federal funding options that can be restrictive. We've witnessed the effectiveness of bottom-up initiatives; now, we must bridge the gap with top-down, streamlined funding to empower our agricultural community.” And yet, as federal cuts make funding even more difficult to access, the real power lies in the systems that govern – and their capacity to evolve in support of today’s farming realities.
Simon Martinez is nothing short of a miracle worker. As manager of the Ute Mountain Ute Farm and Ranch, he’s squeezing life and sustenance out of their 760 acres of treaty “gifted” land – this year with only half the water, and soil so rocky it breaks expensive equipment regularly. Still, he persists.
Charley Minkler, a farmer outside Ignacio and former La Plata County Planning Commission board member, understands the disconnect. Every couple of years, he invites decision-makers to his farm to see firsthand the realities of agriculture simply because he knows they don’t know what we are living. “If you're not at the table, you're on the menu,” he says. With his departure from the commission after nine years of service, agro-voices are once again unrepresented in this crucial level of policymaking.
Some ranchers and processors in Montezuma County are stepping up with mentorship and innovation – offering above-market wages, investing in local food infrastructure, and working to retain talent. But without clear support in the land use code, and with no economic incentives those efforts often run into barriers or fall short of making a sustained impact.
The county’s ad hoc approach to land use and economic development leaves agriculture in a strange limbo: commercial growth is discouraged, yet farming isn’t clearly protected either. And so the question lingers: If agriculture isn’t supported in policy, and commerce is resisted, what exactly is being prioritized?
Bureaucracy Challenges Sense Belonging
While Montezuma’s challenges are stark, they’re not unique – and in neighboring La Plata County, a different approach reveals both promise and pitfalls. The contrast between the two counties shows the fragile balance between overregulation and under-support, and highlights the general misunderstanding many decision-makers have of what it actually means to be a farmer.
La Plata County’s Ag Plus zoning reforms were introduced to create a more supportive framework for agriculture – offering flexibility for secondary uses like farm stands, events, or value-added production, including seasonal housing. But for many producers, it creates red tape that slows innovation and business growth. “At least there's a clear path forward,” says Brian Petrice of Beet Street Farm. The rules may be cumbersome and inefficient from farmers’ perspectives, but at least they are visible – and that visibility gives farmers something to plan around.
Montezuma County, in contrast, offers minimal structural guidance. Farmers are left flying solo, often forced to publicly push back just to protect their livelihoods. They navigate a patchwork system with few established frameworks. A farmer out of Dolores says he does what he can to stay “off the radar,” and is forced to build his business in a muddy, less intentional way.
A recent glamping project controversy further illustrates this tension. While tourism is welcomed as revenue-generating, agricultural operations – already rooted and contributing – are overlooked and undervalued. The symbolism is clear: future investment in tourism is prioritized over existing value and families. Mike Nolan, a farmer in Mancos offers another example to the same issue: “I bought land here 12 years ago to grow food. I couldn't afford to buy that same land now.” The disconnect between economic prosperity and agricultural viability continues to widen.
Some ranchers and processors in Montezuma County are stepping up with mentorship and innovation – offering above-market wages, investing in local food infrastructure, and working to retain talent. But without clear support in the land use code and with no economic incentives those efforts often run into barriers or fall short of making a sustained impact.
Montezuma’s county’s ad hoc approach to land use and economic development leaves agriculture in a strange limbo: commercial growth is discouraged, yet farming isn’t clearly protected either. And so the question lingers: If agriculture isn’t supported in policy, and commerce is resisted, what exactly is being prioritized?
Legacy or Loss?
Over 90% of farms in this region are family-run, many passed down through generations. Yet when heirs choose not to farm – often due to low profitability, regulatory burdens, or internal family dynamics – the land is sold off, usually not to other farmers, but to developers. What should be legacy turns into short-term gain – and ultimately, a loss for the fabric of our society.
And this is the turning point. The old model – family inheritance and generational stewardship – is crumbling. The numbers show it. The stories confirm it. Farmland is aging out of its caregivers, and young farmers face financial, regulatory, and infrastructural barriers that make entry nearly impossible. Without intervention, we risk losing not just land, but the knowledge, culture, and identity tied to it.
Family legacy, once the stabilizing force of agriculture, is becoming the canary in the coal mine. Its erosion reveals more than personal loss – it exposes the absence of meaningful support from local policy. If we aren’t planning for families to stay on the land, we’re planning for them to disappear from it.
So if we want agriculture to survive, governments can no longer assume it will happen by default. They must begin treating agriculture as the vital business sector it is – worthy of investment, planning, and long-term vision.
We need land use codes and funding mechanisms that reflect the realities of modern farming: investments in infrastructure like a regional storage center, stronger support for families, incentives to attract and retain agricultural talent, and room for new forms of enterprise. Supporting agriculture today means actively shaping an environment where nonfamily, next-generation, and first-time farmers cannot only enter – but thrive.
And perhaps most critically, it means finally recognizing agriculture as a business sector – one that deserves the same strategic attention and support as any other cornerstone of our local economy.
Organizations like the Good Food Collective and the Southern Ute Food Distribution Program are doing the work to keep the system alive. Their focus on food equity, regional economy, and justice and well as cultural components that keep traditions tied to food and farming alive adds scaffolding where policy often falls short. But nonprofit efforts alone cannot compensate for structural indifference.
A Needed Shift: Making Farmers Relevant Again
Farming has changed over time and our policies have not followed suit. The hands that feed us, the land that sustains us, and the dedication that underpins it are the foundation of our local society. And guess what, they are at a point of breaking. What happens when the foundation of a society splits? What happens when the fabric of life is worn thin? Where do we go from here?
To support agriculture in today’s world – especially in rural and transitional communities like Montezuma County – we must go beyond nostalgia and symbolism. We need to rethink not just land use policy, but the values and assumptions baked into our planning and zoning systems. We need to clarify our communal identity.
Supporting the next generation of farmers means adapting to new realities: climate pressures, land costs, shifting demographics, and the need for diversified, community-rooted food systems. If we want farming to survive and thrive, our policies must evolve with it.
What Local Governments Can Do:
– Define agriculture as a modern, evolving sector, a pillar of our county, an aspect of our culture
– Consider families and community as the focus of decisions, this includes cohesive water, housing, health care education and food policies with a forward focus- an abundant, futuristic path
– Include farmers in land use decisions - this seems pretty obvious
– Ground decisions in real data - use holistic indicators
Farmers showed up to the summit because they are true community leaders modeling behaviors that are dear and important to our communities. Farmers care – deeply – about food access, community resilience, and healthy living. They believe in what they do. And they do it for all of us.
Can our governments make the conscious effort to do the same?
Why are farmers so often left out of the conversation – acknowledged in sentiment – but not in structure? Statements like “Farmers are the backbone of America,” or “We need to support our agricultural communities” are only rhetoric. At a bare minimum, there should be clear, accessible pathways for their business and way of life to grow, adapt, and prosper.
When those who work the land succeed, every layer of our economy and community becomes stronger. When families can stay rooted, and communities can see themselves in the land that surrounds them, we all benefit.
The health of our farms is the health of our people. It’s time our policies reflected that truth.
Let this be our invitation – to show up, speak up, and support the future of farming, which is, truth be told, all our future.
Audrey Royem is a Mancos-based consultant and writer specializing in community development and systems change. Her work focuses on aligning community voices with actionable policy, drawing from both global experience and deep local roots.
