The magic of listening to the grackle of birds

Last winter we bought a small, unfinished shed to use as a rustic bunkhouse for guests. “And I can use it sometimes for writing and recording,” I told my husband, thinking how nice it would be to work in the quiet every once in a while. We tucked the shed behind the house in the ‘Tall Grass Forest,’ an ungrazed windbreak that has always felt a little magical to me. The shed, an empty box with…