It was sleeting as Henry and I went out to the bus stop this morning. We were chatting over the sounds of our shoes rousing the gravel. The driveway is north and where we live there’s nothing north for miles and miles. Then we stopped walking. A pack of wolves was howling, a desperate, pained kind of howling, the kind of howling that has you estimating sound, distance and everything you know about whether or not wolves really fear people.
The 7:30 air link out of Hibbing flew overhead and when it was gone there was total silence. They were out there in the north woods. A mile, maybe. Get here, bus. Get here.
(Photo: Fredrik Matheson, used through Creative Commons; not my driveway, but an artistic rendering of how it felt this morning)
Aaron, when I saw the post title, I expected another of the many commentaries about on the ‘net today about the Republican debate last night.
You may apply the term “howling in the woods” however you like, to whomever it seems to apply. 🙂