Thank you -- again -- Peter. Your lyrical writing always moves me. I know the kind of cold you describe from my Michigan childhood. The kind of cold where the snow squeaks when you walk on it.

It is not nearly so cold here in Washington, but we are finally getting a snowfall, our first real accumulation of the season. I may be the only person in this city who waits for this with great anticipation and greets it with unmitigated joy. It's just about 30 degrees, so the snow -- about 5 inches of it so far -- is moist, and sticking to every tiny thing. I have always loved the winter shapes of trees; they are especially beautiful traced in white. The snow helps me notice the intricacy of vines, twigs, and branches. The tracery is interrupted regularly by little showers of snow shaken off as hungry birds fly to the feeders in my backyard. It's a peaceful and beautiful scene.