The tricks memory plays on us are not always cruel. For decades, I thought I remembered a lush Italian garden from a book of Aldous Huxley stories that a high school girlfriend liked to read aloud to me. It wasn’t an image, let alone an idea. It was
Nature
Early Spring
It’s still February, but on Saturday we were given a glimpse of spring here in the improbably rural ambiance of a ninth floor terrace in Brooklyn Heights, across the East River from Wall Street. Already for a few days, a mourning dove had been cooing