Sanibel, Tomatoes and Global Warming

It's hurricane season here on Sanibel.  So far this year there have been two named storms--Alberto and Beryl--both no more than Tropical Storms.  Neither has come anywhere close to our island home.  Still, the local daily newspaper has issued its annual Hurricane Guide, and the City of Sanibel is distributing Hurricane Passes--tags that will allow the bearer to return to the island if it is evacuated due to a pending storm.

Hurricanes have a way of changing things--sometimes permanently.  We are seeing that today as New Orleans is still wrestling with the aftermath of Katrina.  And here on Sanibel, one hurricane in particular forever changed life here.  Not so much Charley, the hurricane of 2004 which altered the landscape in some dramatic ways, but rather an unnamed hurricane back in 1926.  That storm and its surge, completely altered life here.

In its early days Sanibel had been an agricultural community.  It was well-known for its tomatoes, cucumbers and watermelons, among other produce items.  In her history of Sanibel Marya Repko quotes from a 19th century magazine article which tells of Sanibel's claim to fame at the time:  "There are weeks or days or hours every winter . . . when cucumbers sell for a dollar in new York City . . . winter cucumbers and tomatoes bring fabulous prices sometimes, and at all times enough to make the business of growing very lucrative on the shell mounds south of the Caloosa."  (A Brief History of Sanibel Island, 14)

The hurricane of '26 changed all that, however, in a rather startling way.  So much salt residue was left after the storm passed, that the soil was no longer usable for agricultural purposes.  No more tomatoes.  No more cucumbers.  No more watermelons.  Eventually, Sanibel would be discovered by tourists and ecologists, but for a time, it seemed doomed.

This, of course, is all fascinating history.  And we always live with the threat of hurricanes hanging over our heads here on Sanibel.  But I mention it not as a bit of historical trivia, but rather to remind us just how easily and quickly things can change.  Maybe, if we remember the story of Sanibel's failed agricultural efforts, we will take more seriously the threat of global warming.  After all, hurricanes come and go, but a permanent raising of sea levels . . . that's another matter.  Where would the tomatoes come from then?