With the recent hurricanes in the South, I've been enjoying a chance to get an historical perspective through a book recommended by a co-worker.

Whenever newsroom discussion would turn to the storms, citizen and government response, Regional Editor Connie Jo Discoe would pipe up, "You've got to read 'Isaac's Storm.'"

The book, by Erik Larson, recounts the Sept. 8, 1900 hurricane the decimated Galveston, Texas, and the city's chief weather official, Isaac Cline.

It's a great read so far, and now I've reached a part where Washington's jealousy of more experienced Cuban hurricane forecasters is about to help seal the fate of thousands of Texans.

Growing up in Nebraska, I've always enjoyed observing the weather, partly because there's so much of it, and partly because there's not much else to look at out on the rolling plains.

I won't pretend to be an expert on forecasting weather -- read "Isaac's Storm" and you'll find out what a disaster that can be.

But I think I've stumbled on to a long-range weather predictor.

It's come from years of observation.

Let's call it the law of inverse atmospheric proportionality. It's especially effective during the winter months.

It goes like this: The less you want snow, the more likely you are to receive it; or, the more you want snow, the less likely it is to arrive.

Take Thanksgiving. One November, we needed to drive a few hundred miles to get home, in a car with a hesitant heater.

Of course, it was time for a big blizzard, on top of extremely icy roads. At one point of the trip, drivers were out trying to walk on pavement so slick it would have made a Zamboni machine proud, ganging up to push cars, one at a time, through a path in the ditch around a jackknifed semi on a steep Sandhill slope.

Other parts of the trip found the three of us huddled in the front seat under a blanket across our knees.

On another trip, we needed to get from Omaha to McCook.

The first day, we made it to Grand Island. The next, after spending all day in the Interstate, we limped into Kearney. On the third, we made it home. The law of inverse atmospheric proportionality strikes again.

I contemplated hiking into the nearest town and having T-shirts printed up "I survived the great I-80 Blizzard of 1989." And I actually would have had time to sell them along the shoulder.

With the thermometer near 80 degrees the afternoon before Monday's football game on Nov. 7, only a fool would try to make a long-range weather prediction.

But, armed with observations around our house and the law of inverse atmospheric proportionality, I'll try.

Let's see, I've got new tires on my all-wheel drive van, the lawn mower is put away, the snowblower is running great, and the boots I snagged on eBay have arrived just in time to go with the cross-country ski skis and poles I found at the thrift shop.

My prediction: No snow this winter.