I called it!

Yesterday morning, I had to get up early to go to the dentist one last time. If you scroll down a bit, you can see the view of Pike's Peak from my dentist's parking lot. But yesterday, there were many dark clouds hunched around the peak, and anyone could see that it was threatening to storm.
When I got home, Pete told me that the forecasters were calling for rain. I responded that the air was too dry, and that it was going to snow.
Now, when I lived in Oregon, there wasn't any trick to calling the weather. Odds were good that it was going to rain. However, when I moved to Pennsylvania it seemed like the weather had freaked out on me. I could never tell when there would be precipitation, and I was confounded by the atmosphere's insistence on staying cold all the freaking time. I preferred the heat of Texas to freezing, but I could still never tell when the sky would open up and pour buckets down on me. I remember several instances of being trapped in the union or my office, trying to kill enough time that the cloudburst would have passed. Some days, I carried a battered umbrella around with me, only to see the day through without a drop of rain. Other days, I would forget the umbrella at home, and lo and behold here comes a front. Somehow, I just never got the hang of Texas weather.
So here I am in Colorado, back in the southern part of the Rockies, near to where I grew up. High desert, as it is known. And I know what the feel of the air means: low, dark blue clouds, dry air, and it's cold, but not too cold. I knew that that adds up to snow, after which the air temperature would plummet. Time to go home and put on a pot of beans.
So it snowed, and I called it. It means more to me than just being merely right; it means that I am back in a part of the world where nature makes sense to me, and where I can feel myself fitting in in the one, small way.