Forget Doppler, just follow your nose






By SARAH HART World Staff Writer
3/31/2008


It's that time of year again.

No, not March Madness, though it's nice to have that in full swing, taking people's minds off their pesky jobs.

It's not even Mayfest time yet. Though Mayfest will, undoubtedly, be affected by the time of year I'm about to discuss most: thunderstorm season.

Poor Mayfest. It just can't catch a break. Maybe the organizers should change it to Junefest or even Septemberfest because, let's face it, the weather will not cooperate.

I've lived in Oklahoma all my life, barring an eight-month period when I thought I wanted to be a Texan. One day, while sitting in gridlock traffic in Dallas, I heard David Frizzell and Shelly West's classic, "You're the Reason God Made Oklahoma." I could barely drive through blinding tears of homesickness, and I moved back home less than a month later.

I consider myself an authority on a lot of Oklahoma stuff. I've been around long enough to know that if you plan an event in May in Oklahoma, the day will start out gorgeous but a tornado will be skating down the Turner Turnpike within an hour.

Now, without taking away from the excellent work that our state's meteorologists do, it doesn't take 15 Vipir radars nor a dozen Dopplers to figure out a storm is a-comin'.

A lot of Oklahomans are part-American Indian. Even more are part-amateur meteorologist. It's in our blood. Our noses' olfactory senses can smell rain, and we have a special hair follicle that stands up when hail's on the horizon.

I remember when I told my mom the first time that I smelled a storm coming. She beamed like I'd just won the spelling bee.

But honestly, storms are our thing. We Okies aren't as good at predicting snow. After that ice storm, the storm chasers were so trigger-happy that if it got below 30 degrees outside we were all stocking up on groceries, flashlights and generators.

Which makes me happy it's thunderstorm season. I'm back in my element. I know that if the temperature is above 75 before noon, and the wind is just a little odd, my TV shows will be interrupted by weather reports.

If it seems just the slightest bit muggy -- but you still feel a cool breeze -- batten down the hatches. It'll be a big one.

We had a taste of storms earlier in March. It was a nice warm-up. We all got to practice our weather vocabulary: Squall line, gust front and its by-product "the gustnado," the scary-sounding hook echo pattern, wall cloud -- it just flows off the tongues of Oklahomans. We brush up on the basics and can again laugh at those who don't know the difference between tornado watches and warnings. Fools!

We're so smart we know that if it's just a storm watch, we might as well be on the golf course.

Some folks from other states don't understand why we live in Tornado Alley. I say, because it adds life to our everyday routines. You can tell the weather reporters are ready for it -- that intense look in their eyes, the controlled glee on their faces when they know they are leading off the nightly newscast.

And we hang on their words.

I am not making this up: My mother decided once to take a nursing job in Fayetteville, Ark. She moved home because she missed Travis Meyer.

So I say, let's welcome storm season back. Don't grouse about TV show break-ins. These guys are just trying to help. Embrace the storms and the season, but follow your nose. It's an Okie's best weather tool.