Go ahead and grab a seat by the campfire, crack open a cold one, and let us tell you a story.
In the early 1900s, two immigrants, both from Yugoslavia – made the vast journey to the United States. George Rastovich and Anna Bogich crossed paths in a boarding house in Spokane, Washington. Shortly thereafter they were married in 1914. The promise of free land by The Homestead Act prompted them to pack up their growing family and move to Central Oregon in 1919. Together they built a house, raised their family, and put down roots in this land we call home.
This is usually the part in a family story that goes, "Well, a lot has changed since that time." But the truth is, not much has changed in 100 years. Oh sure, we've had a few upgrades over the years. The house had electricity installed in the 1930's, telephones and indoor plumbing were installed the 1940's, and in the 1950's the first television was brought onto the farm. In the late 1970's, we even got a color TV - oh, boy was that a big day!
George and Anna Rastovich raised their seven children on this farm - Millie, Marie, Bob, Mike, Martha, Helen, and Danny. Danny, the youngest, took over the farm in the 1950's. He married Helen O'Keefe and raised two children, Nancy and Rob, on the same farm where he grew up. In the early 2000's, Rob Rastovich, Danny's youngest, returned to the farm to carry on the family tradition.
Even though we now have broadband internet access, wireless networks, and cell service throughout the whole 200 acres, the heart of who we are has not changed. We've always stuck to the simple basics that have been our tradition here at the Rastovich family farm for over a century.
Our cows still range freely around our ranch in the Central Oregon sunshine, getting fat on the grass we grow. They drink water trickled directly from the mountains and feast on the barley left-overs from our neighborhood breweries. We still bale our own hay and barter with the locals.
There is nothing greater in God's green earth than enjoying one of our "big-sky" sunsets (the kind that lights up the whole Cascade mountain range and changes every second), looking over the fields Grandpa George first planted. All with a cold bottle of summer ale, and the best steak in town.
