In most places March is met with expectations of warmer weather and daydreams of an arriving spring. However, there is a place for which these expectations are not held. A place where the citizens trudge through March blizzards and huddle together to keep out the last bitter chill. In this place winter claims more than half the year, and the wind never stops blowing.
Those who live in this place are hardy folk. They are friendly, though somewhat wary of new people [and of change in general], and laugh often. These are the people who balance the open lonely habitat within which they live with shared meals and laughter with friends and family. These are the people who grow up listening to the constant whispers created by the wind.