I’m writing this blog post from the deck of Hillcrest Pool, surrounded by a million children. The lifeguards here are the most patient people in existence.

A few minutes ago, my son turned up dripping by my side to say he’d lost his friend in the pool during a game of hide and seek. I thought I might have to explain to the friend’s mom that her son had drowned as I was supposed to be supervising, but then I found the friend, sitting on a lounge chair. It turns out my son is as bad at finding friends in the pool as he is at finding socks in his sock drawer.

Trying to write on the pool deck is not so different than trying to write at home these days. My desk is on our stairway landing, which is perfectly fine during the school year, but significantly less convenient when my house is full of children.

My wise friend Stacey suggested I think of this as the season for inspiration and input rather than for productivity, and this idea has been helpful.

On the subject of input, I’m on the final pages of The Hidden Life of Trees by Peter Wohlleben and the book is mind-blowing. Trees communicate. They taste and smell things. They nurse their young. And this is all science, not Lord of the Rings. I will never again see a forest in the same way.

I hope you’re enjoying the summer, with all of its hiding, seeking, and splashing. I’m off to hug a tree, ponder the existence of ents, and think about what I’ll write once my office is again my own.