For the last many months my desk has been a glass-topped table on the deck. It’s where I’ve scattered my notebook and planner, where I’ve carefully placed my laptop and phone after wiping the glass to remove even the tiniest drop of dew. 

It’s a table that gives me a front-row seat on the natural world. Squirrels and chipmunks scamper a few feet away from me, searching for acorns. Cherry tomatoes still cling to the vine. The hanging basket of New Guinea impatiens has thinned and browned, but there are still enough bright flowers to remind me of summer.

Even as the leaves turn from green to yellow — and power tool sounds from lawnmowers to leaf blowers — I sit here still. This is my workplace, my deck desk.