forsyth.

Every family has one — the relative who glanced at the ridge, said bring the washing in, and was right. No app. No radar. Just a long, unhurried acquaintance with the sky.

Forsyth is that relative, rebuilt in solder. Small solar-fed stations sit out on masts and rooftops, kilometres apart, measuring wind and rain and pressure and the air itself. A few times an hour each one murmurs what it saw over LoRa radio to a coordinator, which writes it all down and puts it where you can see it.

Say the name out loud. It's not subtle. It is, however, patient about being proven right.

Every three hours, Forsyth asks the world's big forecast models — ECMWF, GFS, ICON — what they expect for each station, and writes the answer down. Then it waits, measures, and scores them. Every station page shows the models' local report card: how far off the temperature ran, how many rainy hours were called in advance. A forecast that grades its own homework in public is a different kind of forecast.

And when the sky contradicts the models — rain falling that nobody predicted, pressure crashing faster than promised — Forsyth says so, plainly, in one sentence at the top of the page (English or हिंदी, as you prefer). In these valleys, where weather escalates faster than any model keeps up, the disagreement is the warning. Trust the sky, not the model.

The third voice is yours. Press “report the sky” — hail, fog, the snow line, a blocked road, ten seconds, no account needed. Each report is cross-checked against the nearest station, and reporters who prove reliably right become trusted observers whose word alone can raise the warning for the whole valley. No affordable sensor measures hail; you do.

The full method — every threshold, every reason, written to be argued with — is in the white paper ↗. The argument itself runs at live.forsyth.starstucklab.com ↗.