Online conference rooms, coworkers’ voices through earbuds and faces an array of tiny squares on a screen. Texts. Robocalls. Social media. Online shopping. Talking digital assistants. So. Much. Email. Remote, dispersed, digital, non-co-located, virtual. Whatever you call it, virtual work affects your work and your life, and is so pervasive. . . .

I created a project a few months ago. I was so excited about it, but only shared it in a half-hearted way, at best. One person – one stinkin’ person – responded. I became frustrated, angry, sad, scared, mired in self-disparaging perfectionism to the point that I pulled the offer. . . .

Without really understanding why, I felt compelled to start volunteering one morning a week at a vegetable garden this spring. Learning, being outdoors, exercising, connecting with lovely people, all while serving an organization I care deeply about. I absolutely love it all.  So many lessons, not just about gardening, but. . . .

It’s been a tough couple of weeks. Spring, in all its loveliness, is in full bloom: warmer days, constant birdsong, countless blossoms. And pollen. So. Much. Pollen. Its effects nearly led me to re-route from the grocery store to the E.R. last week, in spite closed car windows and humming. . . .

This is the first summer in ten years that I’m happy, productive, and comfortable in my home office since I started using it – ten years ago. I complained for a decade that the insulation-free attic and southern exposure made my office freezing in the winter and stifling from late. . . .

If you’re like most people, you’re really good at noticing what’s wrong. We’re wired to take in the negative. And how can you problem-solve if you don’t start with what’s wrong, right? Nope. We do better when we start with what’s right. Whine, Moan, and Complain Anyone who overheard the. . . .

My friends who live at the shore year-round are celebrating the start of Locals’ Summer today, when the tourists are mostly gone and the weather is mostly fabulous, at least until a hurricane sneaks up the coast. If you’re not celebrating the first day back to work after a long. . . .

It’s funny how we tend to repeat the same patterns even after the circumstance that led to the pattern in the first place has ended. When I was teaching full-time, the first weekend of summer looked something like this: mostly passed out on the sofa for two days waking up. . . .

There’s a townhouse a few doors down from mine that’s been empty for nearly all of the 15 years I’ve lived here. It’s kind of creepy, except this time of year, when the cluster of daffodils next to the front step burst into bloom in spring. Robert Herrick used daffodils. . . .