The dog and his new love.

45/365

It can be made to hold peanut butter.  He loves it in an almost embarrassing way.  (I should make clear that that's "a way that almost embarrasses me," not at all "a way that embarrasses him.")

Eventually, he gets tired of my photographing him.

Large and small.

44/365

Snowset.

43/365

I caught this image several days ago and am just now getting it out in front of you.  Days when there's sun by and large have a better baseline, and a slightly wider range of pleasant surprises for one's walk home.

Energy bolts!

42/365

I was part of a radio broadcast for Black History Month this weekend, and I found a piece of graffiti I'd never seen before in the student radio station.

"Do you always carry a camera with you?" a colleague from another department asked me recently.  "I do," I told him.  "If you always have a camera, you'll always see things to photograph.  If you never have a camera, you might not ever see what's camera-ready."  He seemed more amused than anything.  I let that go.

Not fully buried yet.

41/365

Our multistorm total snowfall is now apparently more than 18 inches; the dog and I have to fight to get out of our driveway, because I have not in any way even attempted to free my car since the first storm nearly two weeks ago.  There are obvious analogies to be drawn between our repeated snowfalls, which have added up to more than I can remember ever having seen here at one time, and the piling up of work all around me.  I suppose I'm drawing them, at least a little.  But mostly, cocooning and hibernating and being stranded in jeans and high boots and treading carefully through knee-deep snow and dog-high snow and snow-slickened streets has been startlingly unobjectionable.  As has much of the piling work.