Over the past two winters, our resident farmers have erected hoop houses on our property. In the spring my teen daughter and I took to reading, working, and meditating there whenever time and weather permitted (i.e. when it wasn’t too hot).
One day I retreated to a hoop house with my phone for a short, guided reflection. Upon discovering that the billowing of the plastic cover in the April wind was so loud as to drown out the recording, I almost headed back inside my quiet, sturdy home. Fortunately, good sense prevailed—I stayed and put aside my phone.