The skies over New Jersey opened with a vengeance in May 2025, unleashing a month of biblical rainfall that turned streets into rivers, basements into lakes, and left Sussex County buried under 13.25 inches of water—the highest total in the state.
This wasn’t just another wet spring. It was a climate convulsion, part of a national pattern that saw 13 states endure one of their five wettest Mays on record, while the Northwest baked under unrelenting drought.
For New Jersey, the numbers tell a story of chaos.
The statewide average rainfall hit 7.27 inches, 3.52 inches above normal, ranking as the fifth-wettest May since records began in 1895.
Northern towns like West Milford (12.73 inches) and Wantage (13.10 inches) were swamped, while Monroe Township dodged the worst with a relatively modest 4.54 inches.
Gov. Phil Murphy lifted the drought warning for New Jersey, which had been in place since November 2024, although the Coastal South Region remains under a drought watch due to deficits in groundwater and stream flow.
Severe drought conditions had plagued much of the state for more than six months.
The rain came in waves: a tornado tore through Gloucester and Atlantic counties on May 16—an EF-1 with 95 mph winds that uprooted trees and crushed a home in Williamstown. Days later, a nor’easter dumped snow on New Hampshire and record-cold temperatures on the Northeast—a freakish coda to a month of extremes.
But the deluge was only half the story. Spring 2025 was the second-warmest on record for the contiguous U.S., with New Jersey’s nighttime temperatures 2.3°F above average, marking the 12th mildest in 131 years.
The heat wasn’t just uncomfortable—it was deadly.
Across the South, where temperatures soared 3°F above normal, hospitals saw a spike in heat-related illnesses and energy grids groaned under early-season demand. In Florida, May was the second-hottest ever recorded—a preview of what climatologists warn could become the new normal.
The fallout was as political as it was meteorological. While drought retreated along the East Coast, nearly 30 percent of the U.S. remained parched, with the Northwest and central Rockies facing explosive wildfire risks.
In New Jersey, the Department of Environmental Protection maintained its drought warning for South Jersey, where depleted aquifers left streams gasping between rains.
“We’re stuck in a cycle of feast or famine,” said a climatologist, who went on to explain that “when the rain comes, it’s too much too fast. When it doesn’t, the ground forgets what water looks like.”
The month’s most jarring contrast played out on May 16, when Chicago was blanketed by a Dust Bowl-era sandstorm while Alabama logged its wettest May in history—10 inches of rain drowning fields and flooding highways.
Meanwhile, Hawai‘i roasted under its warmest spring ever, with Moloka‘i Airport breaking records.
For New Jerseyans, the takeaway was clear: the old rules no longer apply.
“This isn’t just bad luck—it’s what happens when you ignore decades of warnings,” said climate activist Lisa McCormick, pointing to the 328 preliminary tornado reports during May that ravaged the Midwest and South in two separate outbreaks.
For the period January-May, there were 1,040 preliminary tornado occurrences, which is the second-highest tornado count on record for this period, behind 1,238 tornadoes in 2011.
As June dawned with forecasts for more heat and storms, one question lingered: If May was the warning, what fresh havoc will summer bring?