09/06/2026
Interesting readβ¦but we are resilient, strong and continue to bounce back! πππ
Louisiana lost an entire industry over one Christmas, and most of the state never noticed it was gone. π
Plaquemines Parish grew citrus. Not as a novelty. As a living. Navel oranges and satsumas ran down both sides of the river below New Orleans, on the narrow ribbon of high ground along the natural levee, and families there had been in the fruit for generations. Roadside stands, church fundraisers, trucks headed into the city, a whole seasonal rhythm built around a crop most Americans do not associate with this state at all.
Then came the last week of December 1983.
An Arctic air mass drove all the way to the Gulf and sat there. Temperatures in south Louisiana dropped into the teens and stayed below freezing for the better part of three days. Citrus trees do not merely lose fruit in that. The water inside the wood freezes and the tissue ruptures. Bark splits. Trees that were forty and fifty years old, planted by a grandfather, were simply dead standing up.
And the fruit stayed on the branches. That is the image people down there still describe. Whole groves hung with oranges nobody could sell, skins split, going soft and brown in the cold sun. βοΈ
A freeze like that is not a bad season. A field crop can be replanted in the spring. A citrus tree takes years to bear. A grower who lost his trees at sixty was not going to see another full crop in his working life, and the arithmetic on replanting only works if you are young or stubborn or both.
Some families replanted anyway. There is still citrus in Plaquemines, still satsumas that will ruin you for the grocery store kind. But the scale never came back, and then Katrina took another bite, and then the saltwater began working its way up.
A hurricane makes the news. A freeze just makes an old man walk out into his own grove in January and start counting what is left.
The cold did in three days what nobody had managed in a hundred years.