I am greeted by cast iron doors, engraved with spiraling pictographs and cool to the touch, even in the morning heat of June. I grip the handle—shaped, I'll learn, like a clapper stick, a traditional Chumash percussion instrument—and push it open. The sounds of birdsong, layered and ambient, rise toward a curved ceiling where light moves like cloud shadow. Here, what lies indoors simulates the beauty of the natural world.
