It's a gorgeous September day. The birch trees around my house are just starting to turn golden, and the first leaves are beginning to fall, settling on the grass as softly as feathers. Bright sunshine glows through the branches, flickering like an autumn campfire, and through the open window I can hear one my favorite sounds: the rustle of wind in leaves.

There is something so soothing about the sound of wind-tussled trees, like the caress of ocean waves on soft sand. There’s something timeless and eternal about it, something holy…