The summer evenings in Connecticut where I live are filled with the sound of “peepers” – tree frogs, cicadas, and other small creatures that permeate the night air. For some not used to the noise it may be just that – noise. But for me it is a cadence of quiet calm. Not silence, but a contemplative hum breaking the darkness outside my open bedroom window.

Last week I was on vacation along the coast of Maine. Our days were filled with the sounds of silence; the crashing of waves and cries of seagulls accompanied us as we climbed the rocks surrounding Pemaquid Lighthouse. The sound of the cast-iron chime hanging from the house down the road, soulfully striking its own rhythm with the night wind, lulled us to sleep.