I was doing some chainsaw work in the back field at home and thoughts of Cozy Harbor came into my mind. Not to worry; I was well beyond the set back from high tide — no need to call the Shore Patrol. When we get water in the back field, “Oliver's” restaurant will be selling submarine sandwiches.

We have been Cozy lovers for as long as we have lived on the peninsula. I have photographed the harbor from the air, the land and the water at all times of year in all sorts of weather. It is a remarkably beautiful and simple place, but different this time of year.

I suppose that is not going to surprise anyone. Hey, Mitchell, it's winter. “Hello,” as Roger Milinowski would say. Tell me something I wouldn't suspect.

Well, it is different. When there are far fewer boats and far fewer people in them, there is more to see. You can see the water, its movements and reflections, its depths and its ability to reshape and ignore. I particularly like to watch how the wind plays on various parts around the cove. How it nuzzles the boats and slips into the mooring balls. Where it stops and starts and how it transforms from calm to active. What happens on Davids Island in a storm. And will Rock Radasch motor from the icy dock?

It's a curious place, if you have time to watch and listen and smell. Low tide can be very low with a fragrance that is quite remarkable. It's a bit sulfur-ish maybe, I think, reminding me oddly of smells from my coal fired youth — a curious resemblance.

Cozy Harbor goes off in many directions — out to the Sheepscot all, but along assorted paths, some not always passable. Funny how we are directed by where the water is and isn't. I guess that won't surprise anyone!

But in the end, it is a cozy harbor.