As I walked through the woods around my brother, John’s, house on Cape Cod, I listened to the sounds of home.  I heard Blue Jays, Robins, Cardinals, and Mourning Doves.  His woods are populated by many more birds, but those stuck out. Whenever I stepped outside the house where I grew up in northern Ohio, I heard those songs and calls.  They formed the sound track for home. My sound track for home now is quite different.  Love of place will always have a sound track.  When I was growing up, I didn’t know I had a sound track, but …