A scream bounced off the side of the house, disturbing a green heron roosting in the dune vegetation. It was mine. When I’m startled, I yelp — a short high-pitched shriek. It doesn’t take much. This time, sudden movement caught my eye near our propane tanks. Now retired, I often spend my mornings outside our Tybee Island home, garden shears in hand. It gives me time to enjoy the outdoors while letting my thoughts drift. Our kids are grown and gone now, thriving on their own. But sometimes, amid thinking about my to-do list or how to solve that day’s NYT Connections puzzle, I miss the smell of burnt chocolate…