By Robert Gerard

I planted 300 tomato plants this year with great expectations. I worked hard to get the soil ready for them, laying down drip hoses, getting the seeds started and cared for till they were large enough to transplant. I watered the growing plants throughout the season, watching their progress with great attention and taking the needed action when a problem arose.

Tomatoes as a crop can be so good or so bad. They are sensitive to environmental phenomena and can react in mysterious ways to the world around them. They are often beset with plagues of inserts and diseases and nutrient problems. And then there are the endless "I don't knows" which usually result in shaken heads, shrugged shoulders, speculations - but no real straight answers.

For the second year in a row the tomato plants grew into beautiful plants that produced a piddly harvest. Harvests that were only enough to keep a few favored customers happy. Not enough, not even close enough to turn a profit.

But I am not alone. No one got a good harvest this year and the speculations fly about the lack of flower and fruit set. The general observations of the growers, however, have concentrated on the climate. Most agree that the weather has just been too hot for good tomatoes. And they also agree that it is not so much the daytime temperatures that have caused the problem but the lack of cool nighttime temperatures. They surmise that the higher than usual humidity is a big reason why the nights have stayed so warm - there has not been that dry-night heat loss as usual. I should probably explain at this point that tomatoes are particular about temperature. They will not set flowers or fruit well when the temperatures are over 92F daytime or over 70F nighttime.

Well, the growers have been disappointed as have the consumers. There have not been many home grown tomatoes this year. "Maybe next year", is the cry most commonly heard from the vegetable farmers.

My uncle wonders why I bother with tomatoes. He is from the old school and believes that horse sense should always prevail. He questions why I gamble with such a sensitive crop as tomatoes when I could turn my concentration over to garlic, which is almost too easy to grow.

For me and some others there will be no next year for tomatoes. It is a bit sad for me because tomatoes are a truly satisfying crop to sell. Customers oooh and aaah, they compliment the grower for producing such fine tasting tomatoes and crack open their wallets with glee. But practically speaking, this satisfaction does not keep a farm afloat. It doesn't pay for the water bills and lost time when harvests are poor.

I look into the disappointed customers' eyes, tell them that there ain't going to be tomatoes next year. I tell them about the risks and the problem with warm nights and too much humidity. I am not alone in my story of climate and tomatoes. Other farmers are telling the same tale, and many of them have been at this profession much longer than I. They've said that back in the 60's and the 70's the nights were cooler, hovering below 70F, and the humidity would average around 10 or 15% - much lower than the 30% humidity that we get now.

I ask these old timers what is the cause of this climate change? What is going on? "Oh Bobby", they respond, "it is mostly to do with El Paso, it has gotten so big and all that concrete holds the heat into the night and warms up the desert all around. It also doesn't help that all them swamp coolers and lawns have bucked-up the humidity up as well. And then there is that global warming."

Interestingly these old fellows are remarkably open to talk of global climate change; they believe in it strongly and have believed in it long before it became a hot topic. It is the younger fellows that stubbornly contend that nothing has changed. These younger men have less history on this planet than their older compatriots and perhaps believe as they do because of inexperience with weather. They may also be resistant climate change talk because they feel threatened by it. After all, their stake both timewise and in relation to climate is larger than the older fellows and oftentimes negative talk makes them feel as if their backs are against the wall.

Anyhow, I will breathe a sigh of relief when the first freeze signals the end of tomato season. The f arm is on its way to becoming a total garlic operation. Garlic is a wonderful crop that grows through our mild winters without pest problems or any major hassles. It stores well so it doesn't have to be marketed quickly and sells with ease.

The loss of my and other growers' tomatoes is probably not important in the whole scheme of things. As climate change goes it is rather a small loss that can perhaps be overlooked. People can continue to live without fresh tomatoes; they can go to their jobs, buy their groceries, and drive their cars. But I can not say with certainty that the loss of fresh tomatoes is insignificant. A good fresh tomato brings joy into peoples' lives. It adds to their existences, making them fuller, albeit by a small degree - giving them nutrition and flavor. And perhaps this is the major lesson of these tomatoes and climate change: that everything to do with our changing weather does not have to be catastrophic to be important. Waves should not need to destroy houses nor winds blow down bridges to get our attention. There are little losses that don't threaten us but are significant in that they chip away at the things we enjoy. That deserve notice because they reduce the quality of our lives.

Robert Gerard studied agriculture at New Mexico State University. After he received his degree, Robert spent the next 10 years working as an Extension Agent in various Latin American countries. Since 1990, he has worked as a Market Gardener in Chaparral, New Mexico. He is the author of the book "Gardening the Arid Land" which is a technical book on dryland gardening. It may be ordered from Robert Gerard for $8.95 PPD at 441 Paseo Real, Chaparral, NM 88021