But there was another green, surpassing in its tender softness even the hue of new grass, and that was the green of young larch buds. Hans Castorp could seldom refrain from caressing them with his hand, or stroking his cheeks with them as he went on his walks – their softness and freshness were irresistible. “It almost tempts one to be a botanist,” he said to his companion. “It's a fact, I could almost wish to be a natural scientist, out of the sheer joy at the reawakening of nature, after a winter like this up here.” THOMAS MANN, The Magic Mountain (1928) SIX Spring WITH A GENERATION LOST ON THE BATTLEFIELDS OF EUROPE and Asia, the 1950s felt like a new beginning. A sense of optimism and renewal altered the everyday. It was felt on the streets of London, New York, and Berlin, in cafes, offices, and even laboratories, and inevitably it affected the mindset of those who took an interest in fossils. A temporal rift seemed to separate this world from the prewar one, which now seemed old and remote.
