Looking outside, I saw the sun peeking out and patches of sidewalk dry, so went outside to sit on the sidewalk at break.

I love February. I start noticing flaws in Winter's immobilizing grip again in February. Even before today's storm began to break, I began looking for the seams between clouds, the larger flakes that usually indicate the beginning or the end of a storm. I had energy of soul to do that, in part, because of the month we find ourselves in.

Sitting there, I watched as the snow on the pavement turned back to water and ran off toward the drain. The sun's energy made mist of some of the snow, wafting in my direction like a miniature fog. The blue openings grew larger for a few minutes, calling more color onto the trees poking up through the snow like sleeping beings waiting for a God to notice their need for new raiment.

The trees glowed with a red-brown hue against the new snow, I got up at one point to touch one because it felt like so long since I really saw a tree. The glow seemed to increase in focus as I approached the tree, and as I looked up the stem to the branches, I was rewarded by another dandy thing about February, new bud growth. I know they have been there all winter in some form, but it is usually in this month that they really form in my own mind. The tree's buds reflect those new buds in my heart, small and hard through December and January, but somehow they begin to grow toward some potency in this month.

Snow began to fall through the sunlight, and I turned round to take in the Western Range and the new bank of clouds forming around their summits, I noticed softening of the light.

Those clouds gathered as I breathed a few long breaths, walking slowly back toward the building to see my students again.

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