You all probably know that I pretty much consider every aspect and all weather on the river to be impressive: rain, fog, sun, high tide or low... Today, though, four conditions came together that, because their conjunction is rare, made the morning breathtaking. It's a more-or-less holiday and it's Saturday, so there were no boats: ferries, barges, tugs, all snug in their harbors. It was low tide, just turning, a slow current. And the sun was shining, and the air was absolutely still.

All of this combined to make the water blue, smooth and as reflective as a mirror. The buildings across the way appeared in the water as stripes of brown, brick-red, gray, gray-green and white. Near me, glistening logs floated up the river in no hurry at all. Being New York, it wasn't silent; but every time the traffic light changed and the cars stopped for their minute-and-a-half, I could hear the gulls calling and the rhythm of joggers' footsteps. When the one boat I saw, a patrol launch, caame into sight racing north, it created a single wake in which the reflected buildings wiggled their hips for awhile, then settled down again.

Peaceful, that's what it was. As though the wishes for peace you hear from so many people this season really mean something. I'm a little too cynical to buy it, but not too cynical to whope for it. So to all those of you whose holiday this is, and all those of the rest of us, too, I send a wish for peace in your hearts for yourselves and your loved ones; and a wish, against all odds, for peace on earth.