The Howling Wolf of Murphys
Slowly and surely it became louder, the energy coming ever closer… howling at the moon, screaming at the tar beneath the pads of its feet, digging in with its claws to get better traction, coming ever closer. I was frozen… just frozen
Howling Wolf in the Sierras and lightweight in a saloon ~ What? No wine!
Years ago, I worked for Ironstone Vineyards. It was a two and a half year gig, and I intuitively knew going into it that it would only last two years. It managed to squeak out to two and a half years, with the last six months really squeaking along… except for that howling night. I’d […]
