The Atlanta Journal-Constitution
WHY PEACHES MIGHT SIGNAL MORE THAN BAD WEATHER
Longtime farmers say warmer winters aren’t proof of climate change.
This article was produced by Inside-Climate News, a nonpartisan, nonprofit newsroom that reports on climate, energy and the environment; it is published here by arrangement with The Atlanta Journal-Constitution. ICN won the Pulitzer Prize for national reporting in 2013 and was a finalist for the Pulitzer public service prize last year.
Three generations of Robert Lee Dickeys share the two chairs in the cozy office of Dickey Farms, the younger always deferring to the elder. For 120 years, the Dickeys have been producing peaches so juicy they demand to be eaten over the kitchen sink.
Robert Lee “Mr. Bob” Dickey II, 89, is slightly stooped but moves quickly, dropping in just for a morning read of The Wall Street Journal. His son Robert Dickey III, 63, and his grandson, who goes by Lee, age 33, stick around all day, fielding calls and customers, checking the orchards. The next-generation Dickey is having her morning nap and will appear later in a tiny flowered dress, cradled in the arms of her mother, Lee’s wife, Stacy.
Just outside the office is the retail shop, where I watch customers drift into an open-air porch with white rocking chairs and a breeze, to consider peaches. Or, rather, the lack of peaches.
It’s mid-July, what should be peak season, but the only variety on offer is Zee Ladies, almost the last of this year’s fruit. Behind the cash registers, the peach production line is still and silent, lights switched off.
In a normal year, midsummer would be abuzz with workers packing July Prince peaches. But this year, about 85 percent of Georgia’s peach crop failed. It wasn’t a freeze, though they did lose some fruit to a mid-March dip into the 20s. And it wasn’t hail, though a hail storm in early April took some, too. The harvest failed because it was a warm winter. A very warm winter, even warmer
than the warm winter the year before.
It was 1990 when, sitting in a biology class at the University of Georgia, I first heard the term “global warming.” I remember only one fact the professor offered that day: If the Earth’s temperature continued its apparent rise, peaches would no longer be able to grow in the Peach State of Georgia. Now, 27 years later, it was looking like that prophecy was coming true. Could this year’s ruined crop be a harbinger of warmer winters to come?
“I was very skeptical two years ago,” Mr. Bob’s son Robert says. “But with two warm winters I’m beginning to pay a lot more notice to it.”
I ask how many consecutive winters he’d have to experience before he started planting varieties that could handle warmer weather. He laughs, then says, “Maybe one more.”
‘It might be cold as mischief ’
An iconic sweet Georgia peach might be the hallmark of summer, but its life cycle begins in darkest winter, deep inside still-bare tree branches. Most winters, when cold fronts are dumping snow up north, frigid air sweeps down South, causing something physiological to happen in the cells of buds that will send forth new leaves and bear the stone fruit come spring.
Peaches — along with many other fruits and nuts, from apples to walnuts — need cold like you need sleep, not just any sleep but dreamstate sleep, the deeper and more sustained the better. This year, they did not get it.
The Dickeys have been peach farmers since 1897, when Mr. Bob’s grandfather first planted trees in the dirt of Middle Georgia, where the soil and elevation and water serve the crop well. Along with a handful of nearby peach growing operations, the Dickeys now dominate the Georgia peach market, the country’s third largest after California and South Carolina. They cultivate a thousand acres of peaches, and nothing but peaches.
“This is one of the few years that I can remember that we didn’t have enough cold weather,” Mr. Bob tells me. “Most of us peach growers, we worry more about spring frost ... but this year the crop was decimated on account of lack of cold weather.”
I’ve come to Middle Georgia curious if peach growers were experiencing a changing climate that threatened the state fruit — not to mention their generational legacy — but Mr. Bob insisted this year’s crop failure had nothing to do with that thing the politicians call climate change.
Weather, Mr. Bob tells me, “it comes and goes, and you have cycles. I think we’re in a warming cycle this year.” He looks at me with pale blue eyes and smiles. “It might be cold as mischief next year!” he says, laughing. Soon he is out the door, on the way to a friend’s funeral.
The chill is gone for many farmers
Each year, on the first of October, the Dickeys and other peach growers start counting every hour that dips below 45 degrees Fahrenheit, a “chill hour.” Most peaches grown in Georgia need at least 650 of these chill hours, which usually isn’t a problem in a region with a historic average of 1,100 chill hours per winter.
But last winter the chillhour count was only about 450 by the middle of January. Then it just stalled. By Valentine’s Day, when the farmers are usually long done counting, the figure hadn’t reached 500.
Like all peach farmers, the Dickeys tread a fine line, attempting to grow the peaches that ripen earliest, so they can lead the national market, while not getting caught by late freezes.
In early 2017, Georgia’s struggle with its lack of chill hours meant a sluggish bloom. The canopy of pink was diminished, the iridescent green of new leaves hampered, even as the days got longer and spring progressed. The trees had not slept, so they did not know to awaken.
This meant that when a March freeze hit, there was almost no damage in Georgia; the trees had barely bloomed. In South Carolina, though, the same freeze was devastating. The South Carolina winter had been just cold enough to adequately stimulate buds, but so warm that they erupted early. With the March freeze, South Carolina farmers lost nearly everything.
According to NOAA, Georgia and South Carolina together suffered $1 billion in peach crop losses this year.
‘Not agreeing with this weather thing’
Weather is not climate, as climate scientists say again and again. Weather is what you wear on a particular day; climate is your whole wardrobe.
As much as they care about the weather — and depend on the climate — most of the Georgia peach farmers I met recoiled at the phrase “climate change.”
“I’m not all agreeing with this weather thing,” Mr. Bob said.
The region is getting warmer. NOAA reported that this past winter was the fifth warmest in the eastern United States since record-keeping began 123 years ago, which is also when many of the peach farms of Georgia were just getting started.
The peach growers point to other recent data to support their skepticism. Yes, they say, the previous two winters might have been warmer than usual — but the two winters before that were unusually cold. And the weather station in nearby Macon shows that while last winter was the fourth-warmest since 1948, it was outranked by a string of warm winters in the 1940s and ’50s — strangely warm winters that growers refer to when confronted with the specter of climate change. They’ve seen it before, the growers argue, and they’ll see it again.
“Sometimes it comes in cycles. We don’t really talk about long-term weather changes,” Robert says. “We haven’t seen that yet, with peaches. Hopefully next year there will be enough chill.”
But the Earth has been keeping accounts exponentially longer than humans. To a geologist, last century and the next are as good as the present. It’s only by peering through the long lens of paleoclimatic history that scientists get a clear picture of the scale of changes underway. They search for evidence amid the deep layers of planetary history, in the remains of glacial moraines and ice core samples.
And what they find is that there hasn’t been this much carbon dioxide in the atmosphere for about 3 million years, when it was so warm that sharks swam in oceans where those peach farms of Middle Georgia now are. The world was a fundamentally different place.
Shark’s tooth prophecy
Even if average temperatures tick up by only one degree, the increasing fluctuations between extreme highs and lows that many climate models predict could gravely affect farmers of all crops.
A recent study concluded that the Southeast will be hardest hit by climate change on multiple fronts.
“We figure the insect problems are going to be bad” if the winters get warmer, says Jeff Cook, the University of Georgia agricultural extension agent who serves the counties where the Dickeys have orchards. He has been called a “guru” to the local peach growers.
“We’re worried about diseases getting worse, because a lot of things didn’t go completely dormant,” he says. But he easily recognizes how the growers could see the upside, too. “I think they’d just say we have a longer growing season.”
Quietly, the Dickeys are adapting, innovating, recovering and hedging their bets. They are planting test plots of low-chill peaches and watching them closely.
Peaches are immigrants to Georgia from their faraway origins in China. They have always been on the move because of humans, though now human influences could be moving the crop in a less direct yet perhaps more profound way.