Mediator in a Groundwater Crisis: Why I’m Working in the Tulare Lake Subbasin

Why I Stepped Into This Work

People ask me why I’ve taken on SGMA work when I already had a full, meaningful life walking alongside widows and families through some of life’s hardest seasons.

The truth is, I haven’t left that work. But this groundwater crisis in the Tulare Lake subbasin is on a scale that demands attention. It has the power to reshape agriculture in California—and not in twenty years. Now. On this land. In this basin.

This work isn’t abstract for me. It’s personal.

My husband was a fifth-generation farmer. I still live on our home ranch and farm his orchard. I want this land to remain a generational homestead for my children and their children. This isn’t just policy—it’s legacy. And that’s why I’m here.

Because if we don’t find a way forward, we risk losing more than water—we risk losing a way of life.

This groundwater crisis is on a scale that demands attention. It has the power to reshape agriculture in California—and not in twenty years. Now. On this land. In this basin.

I didn’t step into this work because I needed something new to do. I stepped in because I believe agriculture still has a future here, and I’m willing to sit in the hard space between the people trying to protect that future and the policies making it harder every day.

What’s Really at Stake in the Tulare Lake Subbasin

In the Tulare Lake Subbasin, agriculture isn’t just a way of life—it’s the backbone of the entire community. With 25% of the population working in ag, any threat to farming puts the local economy, schools, and generations of families at risk.

The Public Policy Institute of California projects that achieving groundwater sustainability by 2040 could result in the fallowing of 500,000 to 1 million acres of agricultural land in the Central Valley.

When farms go under, it doesn’t stop at the field. Packing sheds close. Equipment suppliers lose business. Truck drivers have fewer loads. Restaurants and small businesses in rural towns see fewer customers. Families relocate in search of work; school districts lose funding as enrollment drops and local tax bases shrink, leaving less support for public safety, healthcare, and infrastructure. The fabric of the community begins to fray, not just economically but socially and culturally.

That’s why I’m here. Groundwater regulations like SGMA aren’t just about water—they’re about survival. The San Joaquin Valley is at risk of losing not only farmland but the people and livelihoods tied to it.

And here’s the truth: we don’t need another politician showing up with a five-point plan. We don’t need posturing. We need someone who can sit at the table with everyone in the room—and stay there.

That’s where I come in. I’m not here to take sides. I’m here because I understand what’s on the line—and I know how to keep conversations moving when the room gets tense and the stakes feel personal.

How I’m Helping Local Stakeholders Navigate SGMA

My work isn’t theoretical. It’s not driven by agendas or advocacy groups. I work with landowners, GSAs, and communities to help make sense of the real-time shifts happening under SGMA—without all the jargon and without taking up sides.

I help folks:

• Understand recharge efforts and efficiency opportunities

• Ask better questions at GSA meetings

• Stay informed when timelines or requirements change

• Figure out what to do now—not ten years from now

  
  

I’m Not Here to Take Sides on the Groundwater Crisis in the Tulare Lake Subbasin

This situation feels a lot like a messy divorce. Local growers and stakeholders on one side. The state, on the other. And in between hundreds of decisions missed communications, and real consequences are playing out in real-time.

I’m not here to stir the pot. I’m not here to defend Sacramento either.

We need to find the middle ground because I believe that’s where change is possible.

I’m Here to Help Hold the Middle

If you’re still working the land, managing wells, and hoping to pass something down, you already know how much is at stake. And maybe, like me, you’re tired of being told what to do by people who’ve never sat through a single irrigation season.

I’m not going anywhere. I’m here because I believe the next chapter of California agriculture is still being written—and I want to help shape it with clarity, not confusion.

The ground may be shifting, but I’m still standing. This land still has a future—if we’re willing to protect it, fight for it, and stay in the room long enough to find a way through.

I'll see you at the table,

Julie Martella