That depends on what you call normal. Oklahoma’s weather has always been a challenge. The natives who were forced here on the Trail of Tears called it “the place where it’s too hot in summer and too cold in winter.”
We could usually depend on spring and fall tornado season, though. Rain was hit or miss, but it was spread out across the seasons. To quote an author I can’t name but whose lines have stuck with me for years: “We average 27 inches of rain a year, but I’ve never known an average year.”
Rainfall patterns have changed. Oklahoma has known droughts before, but we seem to be evolving into a place where rains come as monsoons separated by long periods of no rain at all.
Last year, we had 15 inches of rain in a single month, that’s more than a third of the year’s average. This year, we had day after day after day of rain, but the rain was so light that the inches didn’t add up. Still, unlike last year, the tomatoes flourished. My pantry is full of the little Juliets that I can whole for winter salads and the Park Whoppers that I dice and can for winter soups, thanks to my friend, Phyllis, one of the most productive gardeners I know.
I’ve come to the conclusion that I’m not a great gardener. I can’t take the heat, so I neglect my garden in the hottest part of the summer. But I still manage to can and freeze and prepare. And what I’ve discovered during the last few painful years is that life goes on, and a full pantry takes away some of the worry.
I still see masks in the grocery store and understand, there are vulnerable people trying to go about their schedules. I go to the gym, and we hold our breaths when someone in our yoga or Tai Chi class is out sick. But life goes on, in the gym, in my kitchen, and in my garden.
Apocalypse Farm 