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I'm feeling a bit inside myself these days. My body has been uncooperative these days in repair, and I've wanted nothing more than to crawl inside and hibernate.

It's full thick and snowy February, and yesterday, my husband and I were snowed in. It takes a few country roads to get to my small town, and the district shut down their schools for the day. I made a go at getting to my own class at the university yesterday morning, but the combination of snow-slick roads, cars tipped into ditches, and my own stress level already being high that kept me home, reading student drafts, cleaning the sink's basin, knitting little objects.

I'm reading books less for immersion in my craft and more for escape: novels I can send my grandmother when I'm done, books that make me settle into home a bit more. I'm thinking about family and baking, about long walks and tabletops free of clutter.

Tonight I travel up to the Cities to take some photographs for the English program's website, and then head over to a cafe to meet a few new friends for a knitting group.

Tomorrow is a long day on campus and after, we head to Green Bay to celebrate Ryan's mother's birthday. It will be good for me to get out of town, to take a break from the same shape of things. I feel that winter blue inside of me, not the bright blue of clear skies, but that heavy fog, that swing low kind of sorrow that follows.