The thin sliver of a waxing crescent moon rises in the east over the clearing skyline of the Superior shore.  The light of a snowblinded day fades into dark.  Snow blowers hum in the distance.  The scraping of shovels on pavement course in the foreground.  With "town duties" complete the truck lugs in four wheel drive away from the lights of cilvilization and into the woods. The forest is still.  A heavy mantle of fresh snow depresses the world.  At home I step outside and breathe in the cold crisp air.  Slowly I shovel my way out of this storm...