May opened across the Hudson Valley with a brilliant, unclouded sky that turned the river below Stony Point into a gleaming sheet of silver and turquoise. The surrounding woods had filled out completely, forming a thick canopy of tender green maples and flowering dogwoods that drifted white petals along the slate steps of the lower terrace. Warm, sweet air blew up from the water, carrying the fresh scents of wet river stone, lilac blossoms, and sun-baked timber.
Down in the subterranean reading vault of the main archive, the climate filtration hummed at a low, steady frequency. The primary gallery was bathed in soft, indirect daylight filtering through high clerestory windows set along the eastern rock face.
I stood beside the central conservation table, dressed in a tailored vest of dar
