Think The National Grange of the Order of Patrons of Husbandry died in the 19th Century? Don’t tell Ramona.

For many a year, Karen Carlson, a steadfast farmer and rancher in the rolling hills of Ramona, has tilled the soil and tended her groves with an unyielding spirit.

Now, she’s setting her sights on something larger than her own five-acre spread. With a heart as big as the valley itself, she’s rallying to breathe new life into the California State Grange and rekindle the flame of the local chapter—a family fraternity that once stood as a pillar of the agricultural community.

The Ramona Grange, sadly shuttered in recent days, is not a memory she’s willing to let fade. Carlson, with her keen eye for opportunity and her farmer’s knack for nurturing growth, is calling on her neighbors to gather for a meeting come Tuesday, the seventh of January, at seven o’clock sharp. The hall at 215 Seventh Street will host the occasion, and there, under the steady hand of Joseph Stefenoni—president and CEO of the California State Grange—the seeds of revival may well be planted.

Mr. Stefenoni, a man who knows his Granges like a preacher knows his hymns, will spin a tale of the organization’s workings, from its humble beginnings to its grand ambitions. With stories of triumph and tribulation, he’ll set the stage, then open the floor for questions and the kind of good-natured discussion that builds strong foundations. “Reorganizing a Grange,” he’ll say, “is the work of the people—local folk who see fit to shoulder the task and breathe life back into the old halls.”

As for Carlson, she’s a woman who walks the talk. From her livestock to her citrus groves, she’s proof that Ramona’s roots run deep and its future is ripe with promise. She reckons there are more than 20 farms and ranches in the area, alongside a burgeoning 40 wineries. With so much to offer, Carlson believes the Grange could once again serve as a cornerstone of Ramona’s agricultural heart.

Unidentified Ramona Grange youth members at 2013 Grange ag event/Facebook

Well, sir, if there ever was a tale about the industriousness of plain folks trying to bring a touch of neighborly sense back into their lives, this might just be it. You see, there’s a certain charm to the idea of folks gathering under one roof—be it a Grange hall or otherwise—and figuring out how to trade what they grow, bake, or bottle, right there among themselves. It harks back to the days when a handshake sealed a deal and neighbors knew each other by the dust on their boots.

Take, for instance, the lady in charge—one with a head full of common sense and a heart full of loyalty for local farms. She sees no better way than for farmers to bring their fruits to bakers for pies and pastries or for wineries to pour their finest into the goblets of local eateries. And by the sound of it, she’d rather eat a fresh apple plucked from a nearby tree than some waxy import that spent weeks on the road.

Now, as for the Granges, it seems they’ve seen better days in California, but there’s a flicker of hope yet. A hundred and twenty-one of them still stand strong, counting some 6,000 souls among their ranks, while ten more dust off the cobwebs and aim to make a comeback. That’s no small potatoes, especially in these times when folks long for a whiff of tradition—be it plowing fields, pressing grapes, or simply sitting elbow to elbow with neighbors over a potluck supper.

Take Stefenoni, for instance, who’s out there on the road with his team, pulling these Granges back together like an old hand mending a barbed wire fence. He reckons people are itching for a bit of the old ways—fellowship, conversation, and a sense of belonging that doesn’t come from the glare of a smartphone screen.

In Ramona, they’ve got a history that runs back to 1915, when their Grange began as an agricultural club—a fine endeavor aimed at bolstering young farmers and ranchers. It wasn’t just about growing crops; it was about growing communities. Over the years, the Grange’s work has ranged from slinging free meals to advocating for legislation, all without dipping too far into politics. Just good, honest service to the people.

Now Carlson, sharp as a tack and tech-savvy to boot, is trying to breathe new life into Ramona’s Grange with a shiny website and a Facebook page dusted off like an old saddle. She’s got plans for Instagram too, provided the folks show they’ve a hankering for it. And if that ain’t enough to get things rolling, well, nothing ever was.

So here we are, watching as these good people—farmers, vintners, bakers, and doers of all kinds—take small steps toward rebuilding something worth having. And if they succeed, why, it just might be the kind of story that makes you want to grab a basket, head to the nearest farmer’s market, and see what you’ve been missing all this time.

Well now, here’s a tale that’s as American as apple pie and plowed fields, about a woman who stumbled onto something quaint and curious, then set her heart to breathing life back into it. She’d been out and about, busy with trails and transportation committees, keeping her ear to the ground and her boots to the path, when she caught sight of an unassuming little building.

“I saw the building and thought, that’s cute,” she said, with the kind of honesty that tells you she means it. “But I didn’t have the foggiest idea what The Grange was up to. Then I found out it was falling by the wayside, and, well, I looked it up. And golly, wouldn’t you know it—that’s just how I live my life. So I thought, why not give it my support?”

And so, the gears in her mind began to turn. She started to see possibilities sprouting up like wildflowers. Imagine it—a bustling Grange hall, not just a relic but a hive of rural activity. Future Farmers of America meetings, Junior Fair gatherings, maybe even workshops on everything from pruning citrus trees to growing garlic.

She had a notion that a class on organic pest management might be just the thing. Folks don’t take kindly to pesticides in their food these days, and she figured, armed with the right knowledge, people could even grow their own dinner right in their backyard.

The Grange, as she learned, has been championing farmers and their cause since 1867—over a century of standing up for good, wholesome food and the people who grow it. It’s a mission she took to heart, seeing as Ramona’s a place where rural roots still run deep.

“I’m hoping we can spark some interest here,” she said. “This is a farming and agricultural community, after all. I’ve got plenty of ideas. We could really build something special, support each other, and keep the local economy strong.”

If you’re inclined to learn more about this noble endeavor—or maybe pitch in yourself—she’s set up a handy website at RamonaGrange.org. Or you can drop her a line at RamonaGrangeGirl@gmail.com. She’d surely be glad to hear from you, and who knows? You might find yourself pruning citrus or planting garlic before you know it.