The wind howls at my back.  My down jacket is full sail.  The lonely northern Minnesota back country road that I have just strolled down acts as a wind tunnel on this dark, blustery, winter night.  Penelope- wrapped in a full fleece suit- curls deeper into the crux of my neck.  Luna, in full regal of her winter coat, shudders with the gust.  A moment of apprehension grasps my thoughts.  I've been out in the elements for less than a half an hour; however, the sun is long set, the batteries in my headlamp are old and dim.  It's time to turn back home to stoke the stove and hunker down for another winter night along Lake Superior.  Turning around now means bracing myself against the full throttle of a December gail-amplified my the tunnel-effect of our road.  Continuing down the hill means turning later when it's darker, colder and in more time for the already-decreped coals in the wood stove to burn down.  I turn.  Luna's tail uprights itself.  She is ready for the return too.  We take the long way home tonight and walk the "perimeter trail".  The woods creak with the wind.  Three ships hunker along the shore- cautiously gauging the water for their crossing.  Life along the fringes of yet another winter storm that went somewhere else: all that we got is the wind...