Sunday it snowed the whole night. Yesterday while the snow was still cold and perfectly arranged, I took a short walk, observing the way the flakes clung to every single twig, making the woods look like a row of white flocked trees. I walked to the field by my house and down a small hill to the pond, where a dozen or so ducks were floating around on the gray water, quacking to each other. The sky was completely flat and formless, and the snow was still twirling down.

I went home to do some reading. I was intrigued to learn that in the fall of 1773, George Washington’s indolent, foolish stepson Jacky Custis began his “studies” at King’s College in New York, only to drop out a few months later to get married to a wealthy 16-year-old, despite his family’s insistence that the couple wait two years. That same term, another student enrolled at King’s College on a scholarship, to voraciously study medicine, law, history, oh and everything else. That student would go on to be one of George Washington’s closest confidants, the hard-working surrogate son he had always dreamed of.

If you can’t guess who that was, you haven’t been paying attention. Or maybe you’re new here?