The harvest that started it all

This story doesn't begin with a bagel. It begins over 80 years ago, when a family migrated from Monterey, Nuevo León and followed the harvest through the Willamette Valley. Strawberries, pole beans, hops, potatoes. Fields they didn't own. Wages they didn't set.

They planted roots anyway. Their great-granddaughter grew up in Woodburn, then chased a different kind of horizon — years on the California coast. Santa Cruz taught her how mornings should feel: fog burning off the redwoods, sea air on the walk downtown, the farmers market unfolding like it had all the time in the world. That was where Juniper was born in 2020, and where the idea finally had a name. Santa Cruz gave her a birthplace — but the Willamette Valley raised them both.

Juni's Cruz is named for her, and for that coastal community. Cruz is Spanish for cross — a crossroads. Where a mother's dream meets her daughter's future.

The valley that fed this family as workers is now the valley that feeds this business as owners — and the valley that will feed family and friends.

What we're building is a neighborhood shop — bagels made from grain, dairy, and produce grown right here, for the families of Wilsonville, Sherwood, and the communities around them. A place that belongs to the valley it's sourced from.

This business exists because of one woman. Donna — Chasity's mom, Juniper's grandma — fought her second battle with cancer with one wish held close: that her family would come home to Wilsonville. Chasity did, with Juniper — and we will open every morning for her.

We open in 2028. The work happens now.

Whether you grow what goes in the bagel, want to help us open the doors, or just want to be there the morning we do — there's a place for you here.

A note from Chasity · Founder

If you're reading this, you're early. That matters to us.

Thank you for getting this far.

What I want you to know is the part that isn't on the rest of the page yet. We don't open until 2028, and that's not a delay — it's the work. It's two more years of sitting with farmers I haven't met. Of building toward the Saturday morning I've been picturing since I moved back. Of making sure the first bagel out of the oven is one my mom would have been proud to hand someone.

Most people will find us when the doors open. You found us before there is a door. That's a different kind of trust, and we don't take it lightly. Whatever pulled you in — the family, the valley, the bagel, the bet — I'd love to know which one. And I'd love to keep you close while we build the rest.