Snow blowing sideways. Walking gingerly on icy patches. The wind, slamming around all night, pushing garbage cans across patios and carports, shifting vent covers, rousing me from sleep every hour or so. A warm house, baseboards ticking and clicking, a rapid beat on top of slower clangs and pops. Footprints in the snow. Deer, of course. Birds, raccoons, people and their dogs. In the melted morning, branches, cones, needles thrown to the ground by the wind. A man in a neon yellow jacket and a truck drives around the Fort, picks up the biggest pieces and hauls them away.