Search Results

What the May 1 Deadline Revealed About SGMA Implementation The May 1 groundwater reporting deadline did more than ask people to submit information. It revealed a gap. A gap between a State-level compliance process and the real-life capacity of many of the people expected to use it. On paper, the requirement may have seemed straightforward: report groundwater extractions through the State’s GEARS system, provide the required information, meet the deadline, and avoid potential fees or penalties. On the ground, it looked very different. Stakeholders were trying to understand an unfamiliar reporting system, locate correspondence IDs, gather well information, estimate pumping, interpret exemptions, understand fee waivers, and figure out what might happen if they made a mistake. Many were doing this while farming, working, managing families, handling repairs, paying bills, and trying to keep up with the constant stream of SGMA-related information already coming at them. That distinction matters. Because the May 1 deadline did not simply test whether stakeholders could report groundwater use. It tested whether the State’s compliance systems matched the reality of the people expected to use them. It revealed that the SGMA groundwater reporting system had real issues. Stakeholders Are Not Compliance Departments One assumption underneath this process deserves to be named. Farmers and landowners are not government agencies. They are not all large corporations with compliance departments, IT staff, attorneys, engineers, and administrative teams ready to interpret each new requirement. Some operations have that kind of support. Many do not. Many stakeholders are individual landowners, family operators, retired property owners, small parcel holders, and people who have spent their lives managing land, crops, equipment, irrigation, repairs, weather, markets, payroll, and family obligations. They are deeply capable people. That does not mean they live inside online reporting portals or regulatory language every day. Some stakeholders did not own a computer. Some tried to handle the entire process from their phones. They were reading State notices, entering well information, retrieving correspondence IDs, trying to understand exemptions, estimating pumping, and worrying about penalties on a screen small enough to fit in their hand. That is not a lack of effort. That is the reality of implementation. A process that may look manageable from inside an agency can become something entirely different when it lands at the kitchen table, in the pickup, at the shop counter, or on the phone of someone trying to complete it between irrigating, repairs, work, caregiving, and the ordinary demands of daily life. This is not a story about people refusing to participate. It is a story about the gap between the process and the people being asked to carry it. A Portal Is Not the Same Thing as Support in SGMA Groundwater Reporting A reporting portal may be necessary. Data may be necessary. Deadlines may be necessary. But a portal is not the same thing as support. When a complex online system is paired with deadline pressure, possible penalties, unfamiliar terminology, and inconsistent answers, the result is not confidence. The result is confusion. And for many people, that confusion becomes fear. That fear was real. People worried about fines. They worried about late penalties. They worried about fee waivers. They worried about missing information, technology problems, reporting mistakes, and whether they would be punished for not understanding a process that was difficult to navigate from the beginning. Then the deadline passed, and people started hearing different answers. Some heard there was another week. Some heard penalties would not begin right away. Some heard reports would not even be reviewed until much later. Depending on who they talked to, the answer sounded different. For stakeholders trying to comply, that kind of inconsistency is not a minor inconvenience. It is destabilizing. It creates stress at the exact moment when people most need clarity. And it raises a fair question: What was all that anxiety for? That question should not be dismissed as frustration. It should be understood as a signal. When people are told a deadline is serious, then later hear that there may have been more room than they understood, trust takes a hit. When people hear different answers depending on who they ask, trust takes a hit. When people feel like they rearranged their lives around a deadline that was later explained differently, trust takes a hit. SGMA cannot afford to keep spending trust like it is an unlimited resource. Confusion Should Not Be Mistaken for Apathy One of the laziest stories told about SGMA is that rural stakeholders simply do not want to participate. That is not what is happening. Confusion should not be mistaken for apathy. A person who does not understand a portal is not necessarily refusing to comply. A person who asks the same question twice is not necessarily being difficult. A person who hesitates before submitting information may be trying to avoid making a mistake that could have financial consequences. The questions stakeholders are asking are practical because their lives are practical. What do I have to report? What if I do not have a meter? What if I do not know exactly how much I pumped? What if my well serves more than one parcel? What if I think I qualify for an exemption? What if I make a mistake? What happens if I miss the deadline? Those are not the questions of people who do not care. Those are the questions of people trying to participate in a system that feels complicated, high stakes, and unfamiliar. Underneath those questions is a deeper one: Can I trust what I am being told? That question matters more than any single deadline. Trust Is Part of Implementation This is the part of SGMA implementation that does not show up neatly in technical reports. A reporting deadline may look like a date on a calendar. A penalty may look like an enforcement tool. A waiver may look like an administrative process. A portal may look like access. But on the ground, those things become phone calls, rumors, family conversations, missed work, late-night worry, and a growing sense that nobody is quite sure which answer is final. That is not a side issue. That is implementation. Groundwater sustainability depends on participation. Participation depends on trust. Trust depends on clarity. This does not mean every requirement will be easy. It does not mean people will like every rule, fee, deadline, or reporting obligation. SGMA was never going to be simple, especially in basins already under serious pressure. But people can handle hard rules better than unstable ones. A hard rule gives people something to organize around. An unstable message creates rumor, frustration, and eventually disengagement. You Cannot Build Groundwater Sustainability on Panic The May 1 deadline should be understood as more than a reporting date. It showed what happens when a complex State process reaches people who are willing to participate but not always equipped with the same tools, time, technology, or administrative support that the process seems to assume. That distinction matters because SGMA will require much more from these communities in the years ahead. More reporting. More decisions. More adaptation. More participation. More trust. And trust is not built only by passing laws, creating portals, or setting deadlines. Trust is built when people can understand what is being asked of them, why it matters, what happens next, and whether the answer they receive today will still be true tomorrow. That is the lesson. If SGMA is going to work, the State’s systems must account for the people who actually have to use them. Not only agencies. Not only professionals. Not only large operations with staff and support. But individual landowners, family operators, retired property owners, small parcel holders, and rural stakeholders trying to navigate one of the most consequential water laws in California history. People are trying. The question is whether the system can meet them with enough clarity, consistency, and humanity to keep them at the table. Because you cannot scare people into trust. And SGMA needs trust to survive. See you at the table, Julie

A well registration process can look simple on paper. You enter your information. You verify your parcel. You upload what is needed. You submit the form. Done. But paper is not real life. What looks simple from the outside can become complicated very quickly when it reaches a rural kitchen table, a stack of old paperwork, or the hands of someone who has spent a lifetime working hard but not living online. That is one of the quiet problems inside SGMA implementation. The system assumes people already know. When Policy Reaches the Kitchen Table The system assumes people know what SGMA is. It assumes they know what agency they belong to and why it matters. It assumes they understand the difference between the State, the County, a local water district, and a GSA. It assumes they know where to find parcel numbers, how to open a portal, how to upload a photo, and how to manage passwords they may never have needed before. It assumes they know where to begin, but a lot of people do not. And that does not make them careless or unwilling. It makes them human. I keep thinking about the kind of woman who rarely appears in California’s water headlines. Not the caricature. Not the villain. Not the simplified story. I mean an older rural woman sitting at her kitchen table with a letter in front of her, reading the same paragraph more than once and still not being sure what it is asking her to do. Maybe her husband used to handle these things and now he is gone. Maybe she has the land, the responsibility, and the paperwork, but not the digital confidence people now take for granted. Maybe she is willing to comply but does not know who to call first, or what questions to ask, or whether asking those questions will make her look foolish. That is where policy gets real: not in Sacramento, not in a report, not in a hearing room. At the kitchen table. SGMA Outreach Begins With Access When people talk about access, they often mean whether information is publicly available. Is the notice posted? Is the website live? Is the meeting open? Is the form online? But access is bigger than availability. Access is whether someone understands what the notice means. It is whether they know the deadline applies to them. It is whether they can find the paperwork, use the technology, and trust the process enough to participate. It is whether they know there is a real person on the other side who will help them without talking down to them. A policy can be public and still be practically inaccessible. That is one of the most important truths California needs to understand if it wants groundwater management to work. A fancy letter from the State in the mail is not the same as understanding. A hard to navigate website is not the same as access. A portal is not the same as participation. A Public Notice Is Not the Same as Understanding In water policy, there is often an assumption that once information has been distributed, the job is done. The notice went out. The website was updated. The meeting was held. The deadline was posted. But that is only one part of the job. It is not the same thing as helping people make sense of what they are being asked to do. In my work around SGMA outreach, I have seen how fast confusion can turn into fear. A person receives a letter and immediately worries they have missed something important. They hear a new term and do not want to admit they do not understand it. They are told to register, report, verify, or upload, but no one has translated the process into the language of their actual life. That is where people start to shut down. Not because they do not care, but because they are overwhelmed. And overwhelmed people do not always raise their hands and ask for help. Sometimes they go quiet. Sometimes they put the paper aside. Sometimes they wait too long. Sometimes they hope someone else will explain it later. Then that silence gets misread. Why Silence Is Often Misread One of the easiest mistakes in implementation is assuming that silence means resistance. Sometimes it does. Sometimes silence means confusion. Sometimes it means grief. Sometimes it means distrust. Sometimes it means someone is embarrassed that they do not understand the process. Sometimes it means they do not have the technology they need. Sometimes it means the person who used to handle the paperwork is no longer there. Sometimes it means they are already carrying too much and this new demand feels like one thing too many. Remember that bad narratives create bad strategy. If the story is that people are not responding because they are defiant, then the answer will be more pressure. If the story is that rural communities do not care, then the answer will be more enforcement. If the story is that everyone should already know what to do, then the answer will be more notices, more portals, and more frustration. If the story is more honest, the strategy can be better. People are not just data points inside a groundwater system. They are human beings trying to understand changing rules with real consequences attached to them. That is why the human side of SGMA matters. The Hidden Assumptions Inside Groundwater Policy SGMA is often discussed through technical language. Overdraft. Reporting. Allocations. Subsidence. Monitoring. Sustainability. Those words matter. The technical side matters. But there are hidden assumptions underneath implementation that do not get talked about nearly enough. The system assumes time. It assumes digital literacy. It assumes stable internet. It assumes access to printers, scanners, smartphones, and email addresses. It assumes emotional bandwidth. It assumes trust. It assumes a person has enough familiarity with government language to know whether a letter is informational, urgent, or legally important. Those assumptions may seem small to the people designing the system. They are not small to the people trying to live under it. This is especially true in rural communities, where land, water, age, family history, and personal loss are often intertwined. The person opening that letter may not just be a landowner. She may be a widow. She may be the daughter now helping aging parents from a distance. She may be trying to protect the only piece of ground her family has left. She may be doing her best in a system that was not designed with her in mind. That is why this work has to be more human than procedural. Outreach Is Infrastructure I believe this with my whole heart now. Outreach is not a side task. It is not fluff. It is not something you add at the end to say you checked the box. Outreach is infrastructure. It is the bridge between policy and participation. It is the work of helping people understand what is being asked of them, why it matters, and what they need to do next. It is how trust gets built in communities that have every reason to be cautious. It is how confusion becomes clarity. It is how fear softens enough for someone to ask a question out loud. If California wants meaningful participation, it has to stop treating outreach like a courtesy and start treating it like part of the solution. Because groundwater management does not succeed just because a rule exists. It succeeds when people can actually participate in what the rule requires. Participation Begins With Trust Participation does not begin with a portal. It begins with trust. It begins when someone feels safe enough to ask, “Can you explain this to me?” It begins when a person on the other side of the table says, “You are not stupid. This is confusing. Let me walk you through it.” It begins when people realize they are not being dismissed, blamed, or talked down to. That kind of trust is not sentimental. It is strategic. Without it, people disengage. With it, they begin to participate. This is where California’s groundwater conversation needs to grow up a little. If we really want local management, local responsibility, and long-term sustainability, then we have to care about the conditions that make participation possible. We have to care about whether people understand. We have to care about whether they feel included. We have to care about whether the process is usable by the people it is meant to reach. A Better Way to Implement SGMA I am not arguing against groundwater management. I am arguing for better implementation. I am arguing for a version of SGMA that recognizes the real lives of the people being asked to live under it. I am arguing for outreach that meets people where they are. I am arguing for patience, clarity, and local trust as foundational practical tools, not soft ideals. If California wants SGMA to work in the San Joaquin Valley, it cannot design only for the most connected, most informed, most digitally fluent participants. It has to design for the older woman at the kitchen table. It has to design for the widow sorting through paperwork. It has to design for the small landowner who does not see herself in the public conversation at all. The system cannot assume people know. Ithas to help people understand. That is the work. That is the human side of SGMA. And that is where real implementation begins. I'll see you at the table, Julie

There is a word I keep hearing in California water conversations. Pumpers. I understand why the word is used. In groundwater management, the State is looking at extraction, reporting, sustainability, and compliance. From a technical standpoint, a “pumper” is someone who pumps groundwater. But words matter. They shape the story. They shape what the public sees. They shape who gets blamed. And they shape who gets forgotten. When California talks about farmers, landowners, and rural residents as “pumpers,” something human gets stripped away. A pumper is a function. A pumper is a data point. A pumper is a number on a report. A farmer is a person. A landowner is a person. A widow trying to understand what her husband used to handle is a person. An older man trying to register a well without email, internet access, or a computer is a person. A daughter helping her father navigate a system he does not understand is a person. This is the part of SGMA that often gets missed. California does not only have a groundwater problem. California has a narrative problem. For years, the public story around water has often been told in simple terms: farmers use too much water, farmers are the problem, farmers are the villains draining California dry. That story is easy to repeat because it gives people someone to blame. It is also too thin to carry the truth. Yes, agriculture uses water. Yes, groundwater pumping has consequences. Yes, the Central Valley has hard questions to answer about sustainability, land subsidence, domestic wells, crop choices, and long-term water use. Responsible groundwater management matters. But when the story stops at “farmers are the problem,” we lose the ability to understand what is actually happening on the ground. We lose the small landowner trying to understand a letter that showed up in the mail. We lose the older farmer who does not have an email address. We lose the widow who is suddenly responsible for decisions she never expected to make. We lose the family operation trying to keep up with new rules, new portals, new deadlines, and new costs. We lose the people who are not trying to avoid responsibility. They are trying to understand what responsibility now requires. In my work around SGMA outreach, I have seen this up close. I have sat across from people who want to do the right thing but are overwhelmed by the process. They are being asked to navigate online systems, parcel records, verification codes, photo uploads, reporting requirements, and deadlines. For some, that may feel simple. For others, it is a wall. One older landowner comes to mind. He wanted to comply. He wanted help. He was anxious and worried. But the first step required an email address. He did not have one. His wife had handled that part of their life, and she died. His phone was old. He did not have a computer. To move forward, he needed help from family. That moment has stayed with me because this is the face that disappears when policy becomes a headline. This is the person hidden inside the word “pumper.” And this is why language matters. When the public is taught to see farmers only as villains, every solution can start to sound justified before anyone asks how it lands on real people. When the State sees people only as pumpers, implementation can become a matter of collecting data, enforcing deadlines, and measuring compliance. But SGMA will not succeed through data alone. It (SGMA) will succeed when people understand what is being asked of them, why it matters, and how they can participate without feeling erased before they even sit down at the table. Bad narratives create bad strategy. If the story is too narrow, the strategy will be too narrow. If the story ignores grief, age, digital access, rural culture, family structure, and trust, then the strategy will miss the very people it needs to reach. That does not mean groundwater management should stop. It means implementation has to become more human. SGMA is not only a water policy. It is a human transition. It is changing how people understand land, inheritance, farming, water rights, responsibility, and the future of rural California. It is asking people to participate in systems that many of them did not create and do not yet understand. That takes more than regulation. It takes outreach. It takes education. It takes patience. It takes local trust. It takes people willing to sit at the table and explain the same thing more than once. It takes recognizing that compliance is not just a form someone fills out. Compliance is often the result of someone finally feeling safe enough, informed enough, and supported enough to take the next step. That is the human side of SGMA, and that is the side I believe California must understand if it wants groundwater management to work. I am not writing this to deny the seriousness of our water crisis. I am writing this because the seriousness of the crisis requires a better story. A truer story. A more complete story. The San Joaquin Valley is not a cartoon villain in California’s water debate. It is a region full of people carrying responsibility, uncertainty, history, grief, pride, fear, and grit. It is farmers and farmworkers. It is families and retirees. It is widows and widowers. It is small landowners and large operations. It is people who know the land, depend on the land, and are now being asked to reimagine their relationship with water in real time. That cannot be understood from a distance. It has to be witnessed. It has to be listened to. It has to be told honestly. Before you call us pumpers, come sit at the table. Come meet the people living inside this policy. Come understand what happens when a statewide law reaches a rural kitchen table. Then we can talk about groundwater. Then we can talk about responsibility. Then we can talk about sustainability. Then we can talk about what it will really take to save the San Joaquin Valley, one honest story at a time. I'll see you at the table, Julie

This article was orignally published the the KCFB Farm Life Publication If you have opened a piece of certified mail recently and wondered what it meant, you are not alone. If you attended a state workshop and left more confused than when you arrived, you are not alone. If you have the sense that something significant is happening with your water and nobody has explained it clearly, you are not alone. Groundwater management in this basin is entering a new and critical phase. Deadlines are arriving. Fees are real. And the rules, as many local water managers recently discovered, have been shifting in ways that weren't always announced in advance. What follows is an accounting of what has happened, told in sequence, so that every farmer in this basin can see the full picture. Draw your own conclusions. 1: The State Went Silent For more than a year, all communication from the State Water Resources Control Board stopped, citing the lawsuit, despite encouragement from the Farm Bureau to keep communication open. Local Groundwater Sustainability Agencies continued their work: building plans, running models, holding meetings, and making decisions without clear guidance from the state on what was expected or how their work would be evaluated. Farmers and water managers did what they were asked to do. They moved forward. 2: The State Came Back- On Their Own Terms When state engagement resumed, it did not appear to be a collaboration. Meetings were difficult to arrange. Communication was limited. When state staff did engage, the message was clear: what local agencies had done was not good enough, and it needed to change. In the meantime, the state introduced its Best Management Practices on Land Subsidence, a new set of standards that local agencies would be expected to meet. No roadmap was offered. No path forward together. Just new expectations, and the assumption that everyone would find their way to them. 3: A 46-Page Document Changed Everything The State Water Resources Control Board issued a 46-page document denying all eight fee-exclusion requests submitted by GSAs in the Tule subbasin, which is also in probation. Every request. Denied. For local water managers in the Tulare Lake subbasin, that document was a wake-up call, not only because of what it denied, but because of what it disclosed. For the first time, the state had put its expectations in writing. What they want, in black and white. Finally. What the document revealed was significant. The state used its Land Subsidence BMP guidelines to assess the Tule subbasin's water-level settings and measurements, guidelines that had not yet been finalized when the Tule exclusion request was submitted. Tule submitted their requests in September of 2025. The BMP wasn't finalized until January of 2026. The goalposts had moved. And nobody had announced it. 4: Local Managers Heard the Alarm For local GSA managers in the Tulare Lake subbasin, the impact of that document was immediate. For months, agencies had been working independently, each relying on their own groundwater models, their own data, and their own approach. What happened to the Tule subbasin changed that. Basin-wide groundwater modeling will be updated to evaluate sustainable yield by aquifer and by GSA, numbers that every agency in the Tulare Lake subbasin will agree on together. A critical head study will be conducted across the entire subbasin. The term 'critical head,’ which first came into discussion in January 2026, refers to the groundwater level at which land subsidence is minimized or halted. Simply put, it is the water level that must be maintained underground to prevent land surface sinking. Falling below this level can cause damage to canals, pipelines, roads, and drainage infrastructure. Local agencies are also re-engaging with infrastructure owners to assess current damage and the risks ahead. If there is a silver lining to what happened in the Tule subbasin, this is it. The alarm bells finally brought everyone in the Tulare Lake subbasin to the same table. 5: Certified Mail Arrived In early March, landowners across the basin began receiving certified mail from the state: a formal notification of the requirement to register and report wells, along with information about fees. For many farmers, this was their first direct contact with the state about SGMA compliance while the subbasin is on probation. Not a workshop invitation. Not a phone call. Certified mail. 6: And Then Came GEARS The Groundwater Extraction Annual Reporting System (GEARS), the state's online portal for groundwater well registration and pumping reports,  is the system every qualifying landowner is required to use. When farmers and water managers attempted to access and navigate the system, they encountered significant problems. The system experienced outages. The hotline was either down or, at best, intermittent. Landowner information was missing. In some cases, landowners received incorrect information about their registration status or reporting requirements. 7: The Deadline Is May 1 Regardless of the system's complications, reports of missing or incorrect information, or unanswered questions, the deadline has not changed. May 1, 2026 For a basin full of farmers navigating an unfamiliar system for the first time, the state has committed to one in-person meeting in April. One. 8: There Is No Grace Period The landowners in this basin represent the full range of agricultural life: large multi-generational operations, small family parcels, full-time farmers, and part-time landowners. Some have dedicated office staff. Some work alone. All of them have received the same requirement and face the same deadline. Local water managers brought these concerns directly to state board staff. They asked whether assistance would be available for landowners struggling to navigate the system. They were told there was no option for that. They asked whether there would be any grace period for those unable to meet the deadline. Their answer was no. The deadline is May 1. 9: The Fees Are Real (and so are the consequences) Fees are not hypothetical. They are structured, and they are coming. The state has established fees of $300 per well and $20 per acre-foot of groundwater pumped. For a farming operation with multiple wells and significant pumping, those numbers add up fast. But for farmers in the Tulare Lake subbasin, the fees may not be the worst of it. If the state determines that a subbasin is not making adequate progress toward sustainability, it can impose an interim plan: stepping in to manage groundwater directly from Sacramento. Local decision-making stops. Local knowledge, local priorities, and local relationships no longer drive the process. What is also true is that nearly the entire Tulare Lake subbasin qualifies as a disadvantaged community made up of many family farms, small operators, and rural communities already stretched thin by years of water uncertainty. Local officials,  including county supervisors and grower representatives, will appear before the State Water Resources Control Board in April to make that case directly. They are asking for a one-year delay. They are asking to have the fees revisited and/or forgiven altogether. They are asking the state to consider who actually lives and farms in this basin before the consequences arrive. 10: The Tule Document Brought Us Together and Revealed How Much Work Remains The state's response to the Tule subbasin led to an unexpected outcome in the Tulare Lake subbasin. It unified local GSAs and agencies that had been working independently, bringing them to the same table. The collaboration that followed was genuine and essential. But that document also made clear that the work ahead is greater than previously understood. New policies will need to be developed. Technical standards will need to be established. Agreements that didn't exist before will need to be reached, and they will need to be reached together. The alarm bells brought people into the room. What they found when they got there was a longer road than anyone had anticipated. That work is underway. And this time, the basin is doing it together. 11: The Dots Are Still Being Connected Local water managers in the Tulare Lake subbasin are coordinating at a level they have never before. The technical work is moving. The modeling is underway. The questions raised at the April 7th State Board meeting will be on the record. The road ahead is longer than anyone wanted. The stakes are as high as they get. And the farmers of the Tulare Lake subbasin are just getting started. Julie Martella is a Kings County farmer and consultant specializing in SGMA implementation, stakeholder communication, and rural community engagement within the Tulare Lake Subbasin.

SGMA is often described as a long-term groundwater planning law. In practice, it shows up as a series of real-world changes that farmers are already navigating. Implementation is not a single moment or mandate. It is a rolling process that plays out differently across regions, shaped by data gaps, local capacity, infrastructure limits, and the pace of coordination. Understanding what SGMA means for California farmers requires looking beyond policy language and focusing on how groundwater management is unfolding on the ground. SGMA Implementation Is Not Uniform Across California One of the first realities of SGMA implementation is that there is no single experience. Each groundwater basin faces different conditions, levels of data availability, and organizational capacity. Some basins have long histories of coordination and monitoring. Others are building systems in real time. This uneven starting point affects how quickly plans move from paper to practice. Timelines, requirements, and expectations vary, which can create confusion for farmers who operate across multiple areas or hear conflicting information from neighboring regions. Data, Monitoring, and Uncertainty Are Central Challenges SGMA relies heavily on groundwater data, yet many basins are still refining how that data is collected, interpreted, and applied. Monitoring networks are expanding, models are being updated, and assumptions are tested against real conditions. For farmers, this can feel like decisions are being made while information is still evolving. Changes in models or measurements can shift management approaches, sometimes with little warning. The challenge is not data itself, but the uncertainty that comes with building systems while they are already in use. Infrastructure Limits Shape What Is Possible Groundwater sustainability is influenced by more than pumping. Aging canals, constrained recharge capacity, surface water variability, and land use limitations all affect what basins can realistically achieve. In some areas, recharge opportunities are limited by soil conditions or infrastructure gaps. In others, surface water access is unpredictable or insufficient. These constraints complicate implementation and require tradeoffs that are often difficult and expensive. Local Agencies Are Learning While Implementing Local groundwater sustainability agencies carry significant responsibility under SGMA, often with limited staffing and resources. Many agencies are simultaneously refining plans, responding to regulatory feedback, coordinating with neighbors, and communicating with stakeholders. This learning-while-doing environment can result in revisions, delays, and changing approaches. For farmers, this means policies may feel unfinished or in flux, even as expectations move forward. Costs, Compliance, and Operational Impacts Are Still Taking Shape Another implementation reality is that costs and operational impacts are not always fully known at the outset. Monitoring programs, reporting systems, mitigation planning, and administrative needs require funding, which is often addressed incrementally. Farmers are weighing these evolving costs alongside market pressures, labor challenges, and climate variability. Understanding how SGMA-related expenses may affect operations over time is an ongoing concern. Why Farmer Engagement Matters During Implementation SGMA implementation is shaped through local decisions, not fixed outcomes. Participation helps surface practical concerns, test assumptions, and keep management approaches grounded in operational reality. Engagement does not require agreement on every issue. It provides a way to ensure that groundwater management reflects how farming actually works on the ground and to reduce unintended consequences. What SGMA Implementation Means Going Forward SGMA implementation is a long process marked by adjustment, coordination, and learning. The challenges farmers face are not signs of failure but indicators of how complex groundwater management has become. Understanding these realities helps farmers navigate uncertainty, anticipate changes, and stay informed as local decisions continue to take shape.

Why blaming farmers for sinking land won’t fix California’s water crisis A recent Newsweek article traced sinking property values in the Central Valley to one cause: groundwater pumping. The headline was clear. The numbers were dramatic. The takeaway was simple. And like most simple stories, it left out the truth that matters most. When people settle into one version of a story, they stop asking better questions. But in places like ours, those questions are still alive—and still waiting for answers. What the Public Is Hearing About Land Subsidence in California Here on the ground, we’ve seen the damage. Pavement cracking. Wells failing. Families forced to leave—farms facing impossible decisions. But what else is true? Surface water deliveries have been reduced or eliminated across the Valley, even during wet years. Recharge infrastructure sits behind permitting delays. Groundwater became the only survival option for many regions. The tap was shut off. The bucket got blamed. What Else Is True About Land Subsidence in California The UC Riverside study behind the article added valuable data. But it didn’t tell the full story: It didn’t explain why recharge was delayed. It didn’t reflect the layers of compliance playing out in real time. And it didn’t ask how communities are supposed to navigate SGMA while policies shift faster than support is built. Farmers are being asked to adapt, and they are. But adaptation takes clarity, time, and trust—three things that policy alone can’t deliver. There's So Much More To the Story Groundwater use became a last resort, not a first choice. Domestic well users and growers are responding to the same system, not opposing each other. Housing continues to be approved in critically overdrafted basins. Many GSAs are operating on minimal staff and budget while trying to meet the state’s expectations. Transitional pumping limits are going into effect before outreach and mitigation are fully in place. What We Should Be Asking Why were floodwaters sent to the ocean while recharge basins sat idle? Why are enforcement deadlines moving faster than the infrastructure needed to meet them? Why are other groundwater users left out of the public narrative? Who benefits from telling only one side of the story? How do we build trust when communities are still grieving unspoken losses? What kind of future are we shaping, and who is shaping it? What It Will Take California needs more than compliance. It needs coordination, conversation, and common sense.It needs stories that reflect complexity, not just blame.It needs leadership that includes those living at ground zero. Because the ground is sinking. But the narrative doesn’t have to. See you at the table, Julie

For eight years, I’ve walked alongside widows through the quiet aftermath of loss. That work shaped me. What I didn’t expect was that it would also prepare me for a new kind of grief; one rising in rural California as wells run dry, farmland changes hands, and families face a future they never planned for. What do widows and water have in common? More than you’d think. The Work I Never Expected For the past eight years, I’ve lived in the world of widowhood, not only as a guide, but as someone who has had to rebuild from the rubble. The death of my husband, Jason, broke something wide open in me. And in that break, something else began: a calling, a path, a steady pull toward work that mattered. I’ve sat with women and men in the thick of their losses. I’ve helped them clear out homes, redo paperwork, and relearn how to breathe inside a life they didn’t choose. I’ve lived that work with my whole heart. Grief has been my home ground. Grief as Preparation Lately, I’ve found myself walking into different rooms: water board meetings, stakeholder sessions, advisory circles. My boots are now dusty with the language of groundwater, drought, and agricultural transition. And to my surprise, it doesn’t feel like I’ve stepped away. It feels like I’ve stepped further in. There is a correlation between widows and groundwater. Grief taught me how to sit with uncertainty. How to stay when there’s nothing to fix. How to listen for the truth beneath the surface. Those are the very same skills the water world needs right now. The Ache Beneath the Policy In rural California, the ground is sinking. Wells are going dry. Families are being asked to reimagine the future of their land. And beneath all the modeling and policy language, something else is rising. Grief. . It’s not always visible. It’s rarely acknowledged. But it’s there. Ambiguous loss lives here, too. The kind that comes in silence. The kind that lingers in legacy. Expanding, Not Leaving I’m not leaving the work I’ve done with widows. That work is sacred. It shaped me into someone who lives and loves with a depth I didn’t have before. Widowhood taught me how to hold pain with reverence and how to walk alongside people through the unthinkable. That work will always live in me. What’s unfolding now isn’t a departure. It’s an expansion. A quiet opening into a new chapter where grief is still present, just expressed through different stories. I’m making space for both. And I’m showing up with the same steady hands. Listening Beneath the Surface There was a phone call. Then a meeting. Then, a seat at a table I never expected. I showed up not as an expert, but as someone who understands what it means to lose the life you planned, and still find a way forward. If I’ve been quiet, it’s because I’ve been learning. Listening for the stories behind the spreadsheets. Finding a new language that still speaks to what I’ve always known: the human part matters most. Thank you for walking with me. See you at the table, Julie

For many people, the word "probation" sounds like a warning—a heads-up that something needs to change. But under SGMA, probation isn’t a soft landing. It’s a hard shift. And the reality of what happens next can catch entire communities off guard. What SGMA Probation Actually Triggers In April 2024, the Tulare Lake Subbasin in Kings County was placed on probation by the State Water Board. This designation didn’t come with much fanfare, but the consequences were immediate and steep: Every groundwater user in the basin had to report their pumping. Most extractors were required to install meters. New fees went into effect: $300 per well, and $20 for every acre-foot of water pumped. These stringent measures prompted the Kings County Farm Bureau to file a lawsuit against the State Water Board in May 2024, challenging the probation designation and associated fees as overreach. For operations already under pressure, these costs weren’t just frustrating—they were financially devastating. Why It Caught So Many Off Guard SGMA was written to prevent long-term harm. But when the solution arrives without enough time, local input, or practical support, it creates new harm in its place. What probation looks like on paper is very different from how it lands on the ground: Compliance becomes confusing. The rules keep shifting. The tone changes from collaboration to enforcement. What It Looks Like in Real Life The people navigating it aren’t sitting in policy meetings. They’re growers, landowners, small towns, and workers trying to adapt in real-time. They're figuring out how to register wells, pay the fees, and keep their operations going. They're the ones calling water districts and Farm Bureaus, asking, “What do I do next?” And that’s where the real work begins—helping people understand what’s required, what’s possible, and how to make decisions that hold up over time. Not with panic. With strategy. More Than Policy: A Personal Impact Probation may be a regulatory tool. But for those living through it, it’s deeply personal. It touches everything: Financial decisions Planting schedules Family stress Employee hours Long-term planning Where We Go From Here SGMA will continue to evolve. More basins may face probation. What we do now—how we respond, listen, and lead—will shape whether this season becomes a breaking point or a turning point for California agriculture. I'll see you at the table, Julie Martella

Across the Tulare Lake Subbasin, groundwater users are watching closely as the State Water Board proposes changes to how SGMA enforcement is funded. The new fee structure has far-reaching implications, not just for how much stakeholders will pay, but for what that money supports, and how decisions are made. This moment isn’t just about rates. It’s about trust, accountability, and the future of local voice in groundwater governance. What the State Is Proposing Under the current fee model, basins under SGMA probation pay: $300 per well $20 per acre-foot (AF) of groundwater pumped The proposed SGMA fee structure introduces tiered pricing based on usage volume. It’s meant to create fairness between small and large users, but the early numbers raise serious questions. The 20 AF exemption is gone. Small landowners previously excluded from fees would now be included and are expected to collectively contribute over half a million dollars. For large pumpers, fees increase sharply. A small number of users would carry a disproportionate share of the cost, even though no public data shows how enforcement expenses are calculated or if they align with actual basin needs. The intent may be equity. The outcome feels more complex. A Key Detail from the State’s SGMA Fee Structure Presentation In a recent State Water Board meeting, officials confirmed that stakeholders in the Tule Subbasin are being charged for State staff time spent in other basins, including Kaweah, Kern, and Chowchilla. There is: No itemized breakdown showing how staff hours or enforcement costs are allocated No confirmation that fees collected in one basin stay in that basin No publicly accessible tracking system for SGMA-related charges This isn’t a matter of mistrust, it’s a matter of visibility. And for communities already navigating drought, uncertainty, and compliance fatigue, that lack of clarity is significant. Why Tulare Lake Is Still Exempt (for now) Unlike Tule, the Tulare Lake Subbasin is not currently paying SGMA fees. That’s because of an active legal challenge filed by the Kings County Farm Bureau. That lawsuit is doing more than protecting landowners from immediate costs. It’s also: Delaying probation in this basin Requiring the State to clarify the goal posts of SGMA Creating space for critical questions to be asked and answered It’s a procedural pause, but one with real community impact. Enforcement Without a Roadmap Probation under SGMA was originally framed as a temporary corrective process: a step toward improved sustainability. But once a basin enters enforcement, the path forward is unclear: There’s no defined checklist for returning to local control No process for adjusting fees once progress is made No shared understanding of how long probation is expected to last That ambiguity puts local agencies and landowners in a holding pattern, paying into a system without a clear end point or destination. What This Means for Local Stakeholders These changes are unfolding quickly. For stakeholders in Tulare Lake and across the region, this isn’t just about dollars and data, it’s about governance, transparency, and participation. This moment highlights a critical need for: Clear and accessible explanations of SGMA-related costs Equitable distribution of program expenses A transparent path from enforcement to resolution A seat at the table for the communities most affected Why Strategic Communication Matters Now The work of community engagement isn’t just about raising concerns. It’s about asking better questions, translating policy into plain language, and building frameworks people can actually act on. That’s what the lawsuit is doing. That’s what stakeholder meetings can do. And that’s what this moment still makes possible. SGMA was intended to preserve local control.That only happens when local voices are respected, and when those voices show up with clarity, confidence, and a clear understanding of what’s at stake. See you at the table, Julie Martella

There’s a lot of noise right now when it comes to groundwater—plans, policies, lawsuits, and shifting deadlines. But underneath all of that, something bigger is happening. In parts of the Tulare Lake Subbasin, the land is sinking. And that’s not a figure of speech. It’s called subsidence. It’s one of the clearest signs that this water crisis isn’t just political—it’s physical. Whether we’re ready for it or not, it's showing up under our feet. What Is Subsidence? Subsidence happens when groundwater is pulled from below faster than it can be replenished. Over time, the underground layers compress—like a sponge that’s been squeezed too many times. Once those spaces collapse, they don’t come back. The land sinks and everything built on top of it starts to shift or crack. Why Subsidence in the Tulare Lake Subbasin Matters This isn’t just something farmers need to worry about. It affects roads, canals, levees, pipelines, and even homes. From the state’s perspective, subsidence threatens aqueducts and water delivery systems that serve cities, agriculture, and industry. That’s part of why it’s become such a focus in SGMA enforcement. You don’t have to agree with how the state handles things to recognize this much: when subsidence goes unchecked, there’s damage. And that damage spreads. How It Shows Up Locally Wells can be damaged or go dry. Canals can shift, making irrigation more difficult and more expensive. And while infrastructure suffers, it’s usually the landowners who end up footing the bill. We all know this water crisis didn’t come out of nowhere. It was built slowly, over decades—one decision at a time. And now the responsibility to clean it up is landing hardest on the people who’ve been working the land and feeding the state through it all. Where That Leaves Us Dealing with subsidence in the Tulare Lake Subbasin isn't an unsolvable problem and doesn't require us to throw in the towel. It’s about figuring out what we can do and making smart decisions from where we stand. We can watch our wells for changes in performance that might be early warning signs. We can take part in recharge efforts when opportunities arise. We can attend GSA meetings and speak up about what’s happening in the field. We can work together—whether through local water districts, the Farm Bureau, or with neighboring landowners. We can look at ways to improve surface and groundwater water efficiency. And most importantly, we can stay informed—because policies are shifting fast, and those changes are hitting growers first. Staying informed isn’t optional anymore. That’s where I come in: to help sort through the mess, track what’s changing, and offer some clarity without all the noise. Holding the Line We might be in the middle of a water war, but farmers didn’t start it. And they’re not walking away from it, either. The land has always told the truth. Right now, it’s telling us to pay attention. This valley was built by people who worked with the land, not against it. People who know how to adapt, even when the rules don’t make much sense. If there’s going to be a future for agriculture in California, it’s going to come from the people who are still walking the fields, fixing what’s broken, and figuring out how to make it work. The ground may be shifting. But the roots here run deep. This land still has a future—if we’re willing to protect it, fight for it, and pass it on. I'll see you at the table, Julie Martella

For years, I’ve worked with people navigating personal crises—helping them process uncertainty, make sense of overwhelming situations, and move forward with clarity. Now, I’m applying those same skills to an industry I know deeply—one that is facing an agriculture crisis unlike anything we’ve seen before. Agriculture is in Crisis—And That’s a Form of Grief Right now, agriculture is experiencing its own form of grief and disruption : Long-standing ways of doing business are disappearing. Regulations and policies feel overwhelming and impossible. Farmers, industry leaders, and businesses are being forced to make generational decisions under immense pressure. This isn’t just about policy—it’s about people. Families, businesses, and entire communities are being forced to make generational decisions under immense pressure, often drowning in legal complexity with no clear path forward. What We Need Isn’t Just Policy Solutions—It’s Clarity, Strategy, and Hard Conversations When individuals face a crisis, they need more than just information—they need guidance, clarity, and a way to make sense of it all. The same is true for industries in crisis. That’s why my work in grief and crisis navigation naturally extends to agriculture. The tools I’ve used to help individuals process personal loss are the same tools we need to apply to this industry-wide disruption: Farmers and industry leaders don’t need more overwhelming legal jargon. They need someone who can break it down, make it make sense, and help them confidently move forward. My work has alw ays focused on helping people navigate crisis and uncertainty. The landscape has changed, but the work remains the same. I now work with agricultural businesses, policymakers, and industry leaders to:   Educate and communicate regulations in a way that actually makes sense Facilitate strategic conversations so businesses can make informed, generational decisions Bridge the gap between policy and action so organizations can move forward . Let’s Expand the Conversation—Together This isn’t just about policy shifts. It’s about people, families, and the future of agriculture. The agriculture crisis we are facing demands clear thinking, bold leadership, and real solutions. Agriculture’s future depends on clear thinking and bold action. Let’s get to work. Julie Martella

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