Every Monday for more than 30 years, Mychal Wilmes has started thinking about what will become his next column-a process that begins in thought, often wanders into his garden, and eventually finds its way to the page. "Writing is never easy," Wilmes says, sitting with a coffee at Union Coffee Café in Dodge Center, Minnesota. Yet for decades, he has done it with striking consistency.

Since 1991, Wilmes has penned weekly reflections-first for Agri News, and now for Agweek. His style blends agricultural reporting with personal memory and quiet insight. While his words have appeared in countless issues, the ritual of writing remains deeply personal.

"I feel responsible not to embarrass anyone with my writing-and not embarrass myself," he says. That sense of responsibility has been forged over time, with lessons learned in the field. He recalls calling calf hutches "crates" during an interview with a dairy farmer-who was not amused. Another time, he misspelled a farmer's name and had to make the humbling call to apologize. These moments taught him discipline and humility.

Wilmes' dedication is evident: in more than three decades, he's rarely missed a week. At most, he's reworked an old idea or tweaked a phrase-but his columns are almost always fresh and original.

The idea of becoming a columnist didn't come naturally. An Agri News editor first nudged him to try, and Wilmes remembers the fear that came with it. "That was really scary, because I had never written a column before," he says. He had written editorials-many of them controversial during the volatile 1980s farm crisis-but column writing required a different kind of vulnerability.

Much of his writing begins in memory, which Wilmes credits to a quiet, isolated childhood, and to the influence of his mother. He still writes every column at an oak desk made by his uncle and once used by his mother. It houses an aging Hewlett-Packard desktop and bears the marks of time. "I've spilled cups of coffee all over the desk and haven't ruined the computer yet," he laughs.

Authenticity, he says, is the heart of good writing. "If you're authentic, if you care about the people you're writing about, it shows." His approach has earned a loyal following-and even radio airtime. A DJ in New Prague regularly reads Wilmes' columns on air, a fact Wilmes discovered in passing. "He said they're still worthwhile. I said, ‘Well, you owe me a beer.' I was joking. I can't drink beer."

Despite the praise, Wilmes still struggles with self-confidence. He recounts being called a "disappointment" by a journalism professor after graduating from Mankato State. That judgment stuck with him. "Deep in my soul, I don't think I'm very good," he admits. Yet the columns continued, week after week.

Life, too, has shaped his perspective. In the past year, Wilmes lost three brothers, but also welcomed a new grandson-a contrast that brought deeper appreciation for life. "After my health setback, I realize every day is a blessing," he says. "A grandson rejuvenates you."

Even amid grief and aging, he remains optimistic. "I could have a heart attack tomorrow and be dead. But I'm too optimistic to ponder that."

Wilmes once dreamed of writing a novel but never had the time. His aunt, however, has quietly collected his columns over the years-perhaps understanding the cumulative power of weekly reflection better than he did. And so, the work continues: memory, loss, humility, and joy all funnel into the garden, and from there, to the page.

"I'm thankful for the opportunity that Agweek has given me to keep visiting with farm families and others throughout the region," he says. "It's a great feeling and a great responsibility. I just love writing, and I appreciate the support readers give me by reading my column every week."