Yesterday morning I heard the towhee again. The robins were also out and about. But what surprised me was the dove, which, for all the world, sounded surprised itself. What else? Years and years ago, when we still lived on the farm, a hen flapped down from its roost and stood in the dimmest light of dawn, not quite knowing why, or what she’d done. She was a kind of ghost, and so was I, looking on.