We got 14 inches of snow here along the Delaware River last night. The boughs of the evergreens are heaped in white. The air is quiet, and when it moves, it sweeps with it small clouds of sparkling crystals.
Walking in unbroken drifts, you feel the snow shoved cold up along your shins inside your trousers and weighing on the toes of your boots when you lift them.
In the neighborhood, there are the sounds of shovels scraping on walkways, the cheeps of birds swarming feeders, the soft crunch of tires on the plowed street.
It would be a great time to be aboard Robin. There is nothing more cozy than the cabin of a snowed-in sailboat, where the light strains to reach the portholes through a slope of drifted deck snow. The companionway hatch becomes an igloo entrance. The blankets on the berths -- in Robin's case, on the port and starboard settees -- are inviting. Put a cup of warm coffee or cocoa on the saloon table and stack a couple of books there. Make sure there are some seasonal cookies within reach. Then settle back and rock with the wind in the quiet of your snow-muffled cavern.
For now, we imagine this scene. Robin is all alone on the Choptank and we are here, cozy in our cottage in the snow.

A brief note after three weeks off:
Robin is winterized and in her slip in Cambridge, Md. Her fuel tanks are filled, there is biodegradable antifreeze in her raw water system and plumbing, the water tanks have been drained and the seacocks have been closed. I put one tarp over her dodger and main cabin, but she needs a couple more to keep her dry inside. Otherwise, she's snug, with extra dock lines to handle the winter winds.
On Wednesday I had cataract surgery. The difference is remarkable. It is as if someone just got done Windexing the windows. Everything shows in sharp detail.
I'm working on the editing of the submarine book, now called Eight Survived. The editor, Keith, asked me to provide thorough source material, chapter by chapter, to back up my writing. So I've been going through the hundreds of documents I collected starting in 2001 when I began research for the book. I've found stuff that I didn't remember I had. It's been entertaining at times.
And An Irresponsible Adult is being looked at in the office of a Boston literary agent. The agent's assistant emailed me yesterday asking for the manuscript after a proposal I sent them intrigued her. I'm hoping for the best, of course.
More important, I'm taking this opportunity to wish all of you the best in the holiday season and beyond. I know I'm going to be entertained in the new year, and I hope you will be, too.