Many of you ask what I use to come up with some of the weather forecasts I’ve done. I wish I could give you a good answer.
Sure, I use computer models, I read forecast discussions from the National Weather Service, I look at weather maps to see the positions of the systems that could affect our region. But sometimes I have to turn all that stuff off and just look and feel the atmosphere. See what my instincts say. Sometimes, nature will give you a sign. Weather forecasting was one of the first sciences tackled by early cultures, and it's easy to see why. Everything from vital crops to conquering armies succeeded or failed on the whims of the weather.
Ages passed before atmospheric omens moved from the province of prophecy to the scientific sphere, but farmers, sailors and soldiers were not content to wait. Thus, lacking sophisticated instruments, coordinated observatories or rapid communications, they based their forecasts on observations and timeworn lore passed down through the 
years. Confirmed, busted or plausible, weather myths die hard, so I've compiled a list of weather signs that I’m confident hold water. Some are as warm and familiar as a summer wind, while others, are as shocking as a bolt from the blue.
First…the saying “Red Sky in Morning, Sailors Take Warning; Red Sky at Night, Sailors Delight”. This is usually true. Sailors and shepherds alike will tell you that a red sunrise promises only one thing: stormy weather. The ruddy shades that tint the horizon at break and close of day result from the scattering of sunlight by small particles suspended in dry, dusty air. At sunset, these conditions imply a zone of dry, high pressure between you and the sun. Since weather in the mid-latitudes moves mainly west to east, that means a day of clear sailing. But in the atmosphere, as in life, highs and lows tend to follow hard upon one another. So, if the red, dusty skies occur near sunrise, it suggests that the calm high-pressure zone has already passed and that a stormy low-pressure system could move through soon.
The next saying is “Feeling Bad Weather in Your Bones”. People claim they can feel the approach of a storm or a cold snap in their arthritis, sinuses, headaches or teeth. But does grandma's "rheumatiz" acting up make for a good barometer, or is this just another case of an old wives tale? A 2007 American Journal of Medicine study of 200 subjects with knee osteoarthritis found a link between barometric pressure and pain level. Your bodily fluids exist in a cons
tant balance with ambient air pressure, so as the barometer falls — as happens with an approaching storm — your tissues can swell in response, irritating nerve endings and causing you additional ouches.
Next… “Using Crickets as Thermometers”. This is true. Did you know that their chirping also bears a direct relation to air temperature? Crickets chirp faster in warmer conditions and more slowly as the air turns more frigid. "The Farmer's Almanac" says to count the number of chirps occurring in 14 seconds, and then add 40 to get temperature in Fahrenheit. For Celsius, it says to count number of chirps in 25 seconds, divide by 3, and then add 4. So the next time crickets keep you awake, don't count sheep — calculate air temperature. Another 
saying is “Cows Lying Down Means Wet Weather Is on the Way”. It's tempting to dismiss this claim as "udderly" ridiculous, but it turns out that cows tend to stand more often when their bodies overheat, so an upright Guernsey could arguably mean hotter weather while a seated shorthorn implies cooling weather or a storm a' brewin'. Still, we wouldn't bet the farm on it, as cows lie down for a variety of reasons, including cud chewing. So this is just a few of the things in nature that help in weather prognostication.
Of course, weather is very complex. Even the rules-of-thumb listed here only work a percentage of the time. Still, you might find a few of them useful. If I get enough “Likes” on this I will give you some more in a future post. Feel free to leave comments and be sure to hit the “Like” button at the bottom.
