Thin clouds give the moon a halo, and scatter light to provide a pale backdrop for the bare, twiggy branches of the mulberry tree. Cold but gentle wind is making the pines whisper. There have been no birds tonight, no raccoons, no deer. There was an escaped dog. I heard its collar tags jingling as it explored the delicious world of trash night, passing up the street and back down, arousing all the fenced-in dogs to bark with envy. Other than that, the night was only moonlight and breezes. Even the frogs have remained silent in this late winter chill, and the dogs have all returned to sleep, or to whatever outdoor dogs do on cold nights. Deep blue will creep up the eastern sky momentarily. Good morning, March. I hope you are bringing me at least a few blustery days.