The tiny hairs inside my nose quiver as I inhale the frigid moonlit air. This year, nights remained arctic cold with way too much snow. I read stories about this kind of winter and resulting cabin fever. Add to this a full moon and people exhibit very peculiar behavior. George Carlin said these are the nights when the wolves are silent and only the moon howls.

So here I am, following the urge to be outdoors, listening to the wind rustle the trees.