After a series of mild winters, snow came upon us again. Undulant piles, wave-like in the shadows. And work too piled itself high. Teaching sometimes feels like a blizzard. You cannot see in front of you for the white-out caused by flurries of papers and reading, grading, comment writing, prepping. Outside the snow quieted the world for a bit and gave us a bonus, a few days to ourselves. But I, buried by paper, had not time for anything else but grading. At last, I see the hope of spring. And at last, I have a picture or three, all freezing. February is always the longest month.