Six days until Thanksgiving, and we’ve had one light freeze on the banks of the creek here in north central Oklahoma. It’s the new normal. Don’t you hate that cliché, new normal?
It’s 83 degrees here, and the wasps are coming in. Looking for warmth or for a place to die? I don’t know, but something tells me the weather is about to change. For those who have been paying attention, this is not the same thing as “the climate is about to change.” I mean, it’s 83 degrees. Fahrenheit.
The climate has already changed, and is changing still. But today, I’m looking at my little square of earth in what used to be Zone 6 and is now more like Zone 7, and I’m doing what farmers and gardeners have been doing for centuries: I’m getting ready for what’s coming in. Planters with moist dirt are emptied and cleaned. Garden hoses have been put away, and I’m closing up windows and doors on the coops. The chickens will need extra hay, too.
Inside, my cats want to snuggle. In fact, one of them is helping write this piece. The dogs will bless the couch and chair all night long. Hunters are out, so the dogs are sticking close in the late afternoon, too.
My security? Good Lands’ End flannel sheets! It pays to be prepared.
Apocalypse Farm 