The reminder that waits for frost
Some things do not happen at a set hour, they happen when the weather decides. Bringing in the washing, covering the trees, fitting snow chains, watering: nobody knows the date in advance. XNeuronal watches the forecast for you and speaks up when it matters.
You give the condition, not the date
“The moment it freezes, remind me to cover the trees.” There is no date to pick and no threshold to set in a menu. You describe the situation you want to be warned about, and the watch begins.
The threshold it settled on is spoken back to you straight away: “I will warn you as soon as 2 degrees or less is forecast at home.” That is the one moment you can correct it, so it is never left unsaid. And 2 degrees rather than zero, because the forecast gives the temperature under shelter while the ground and the leaves go lower.
Ten measures, freely combined
Minimum and maximum temperature, rain fallen and rain forecast, snow, wind, cloud cover, air quality, fine particles, and the phase of the moon. They combine: “when it goes above 30 degrees in full sun” watches temperature and cloud together.
The moon is the exception: it is computed rather than measured. It is therefore known everywhere, every day, even with no network, which is what makes “remind me to prune on a waning moon with no rain” possible, with a single alert when both are true.
Across several days, and only in season
“If it has not rained for five days, remind me to water.” The total is kept over a sliding window, and XNeuronal tells you plainly that it will be reliable in five days, the time it needs to watch those days go by. It does not pretend to know the week that already passed.
Watching for frost makes no sense in July: it runs from 15 October to 15 April and sleeps the rest of the year, following the hemisphere you live in. You get a warning as soon as the condition enters the forecast, up to three days ahead, then a second one the day before.
What you can say to it
Warn me if it is going to rain, I have washing out
A lasting watch. The warning comes as soon as rain enters the forecast, up to three days ahead, then again 24 hours before.
When strong wind is forecast, remind me to bring the cushions in
Reference threshold at 60 km/h. It says the number out loud so you can correct it.
If it rains on Saturday, warn me, the barbecue is off
A condition set on one day, not a standing watch.
Whenever it rains, remind me to cover the woodpile
Every episode, not just the first one.
Warn me the day before if it rains in the morning, I will take an umbrella
Anticipation rather than an alert on waking.
When it rains three days running, remind me to check the cellar
A window over several days, totalled by the server.
If it blows hard, remind me to bring the trampoline in
The sentence every parent with a garden has said at least once too late.
Warn me if it rains before I set off again by bike
A watch that only matters for the length of one trip.
The moment it freezes, remind me to cover the trees
The threshold is 2 degrees, not zero: the forecast gives the temperature under shelter while the ground and the leaves go lower.
Warn me before the first frost so I can bring the plants in
Once only, at the first occurrence of the season.
When it freezes, remind me to drain the outside tap
The yearly job that costs money when you forget it.
If it freezes hard, remind me to check the hens have water
Hard frost, threshold at minus 3 degrees.
Before the frosts, remind me to bring in the garden hose
The watch runs from 15 October to 15 April and sleeps the rest of the year.
When it freezes in the morning, remind me to leave ten minutes earlier
Scraping the windscreen, counted in lateness at work.
Warn me if it freezes while I am away
A watch that runs by itself through the whole absence.
The moment it freezes, remind me to get the fleece out
The card carries the action you dictated, never one it invented.
When it goes above 30 degrees in full sun, remind me to close the shutters
Two measures combined: above 30 degrees and under 20 percent cloud.
Warn me when it goes above 25 degrees
A plain alert, no action. The sentence stops after the temperature.
If it gets very hot, remind me to walk the dog early
Heat shifts habits, not just comfort.
When it is hot three days running, remind me to call my mother
A three-day window taken at its minimum, so a real heatwave.
In hot weather, remind me to fill the bird bath
A ten-second job that only comes to mind at the right moment.
If it goes above 28 degrees, remind me not to leave the shopping in the car
The threshold is spoken, never imposed.
When it is hot at the weekend, remind me to check the pool
The condition and the moment combine.
If it snows, remind me to get the chains out
Reference threshold at 1 centimetre.
When it snows, remind me to clear the pavement
The duty you discover by slipping on your own doorstep.
Warn me the day before if it snows, I will leave earlier
An early warning rather than an alert on waking.
Whenever it snows, remind me to bring the cat in
Every episode, all winter, without thinking about it again.
If it snows, remind me to check whether school is open
The morning reflex, set once and for all.
When the snow arrives, remind me to fit the winter tyres
Once only, at the first snowfall.
If it has not rained for five days, remind me to water
The server totals rainfall over a rolling five-day window. It tells you it will be reliable in five days, the time it needs to watch those days go by.
Remind me to water the tomatoes only if it has not rained
The condition removes the pointless reminder, which is the reason people end up ignoring every reminder.
When it has not rained for a week, remind me to check the compost
A longer window, same mechanism.
If it is dry and hot, remind me to mulch
Two conditions tied together, one warning.
Remind me to water the young plants as long as it does not rain
A watch that switches itself off as soon as the rain comes back.
If it has not rained for three days, remind me to fill the water bowl outside
The same mechanism, for animals.
Remind me to prune on a waning moon with no rain
The moon is computed rather than measured. It is known everywhere, every day, even with no network, and combines freely with the weather.
Warn me at the full moon
Threshold at 95 percent illumination.
At the new moon, remind me to sow the radishes
Dark moon, under 5 percent.
Remind me to treat the trees on a waning moon
A reminder that follows a cycle, not a calendar.
Warn me on full-moon nights with no cloud, I want to photograph
Two worlds combined: the computed sky and the observed one.
Remind me to bottle on a waning moon
The job the old hands pass on and nobody ever manages to time.
Warn me when the air is bad, I will not go running
The index runs from 1, good, to 5, very bad. The threshold sits at 4.
When there is a particulate spike, remind me to close the windows
Threshold on fine particles at 35.
If the air is bad, remind me to take the little one’s medicine
A health watch, set once, that lives for months on its own.
Warn me on pollution days, I will take the train
A travel decision that gets made the day before or never.
When the air is bad, remind me to cancel training outdoors
The condition is there to decide, not only to inform.
Remind me to shut the henhouse at sunset
An hour that moves every day, computed for your place, with nothing for you to follow.
Half an hour before sunset, remind me to head back
The hour drifts all year, the reminder follows.
At sunrise, remind me to let the animals out
The reminder that replaces an approximate alarm.
Remind me to water after sunset
The right moment for plants, not a fixed hour that goes wrong in July.
Warn me when night starts falling before 6pm
The turn of the season, said once.