It’s already Sunday but it feels like the weekend has stretched for a week, in the nicest way. The first few truly sunny days of summer are such a novelty still—each one has a delicious newness to it, which gives time an elasticity such that a single weekend feels like a week-long vacation. All the things that become routine once summer really sets in are still fresh. I haven’t gone swimming every morning yet, or had dozens of cold brew iced coffees, or gotten multiple sunburns from too many hours at the beach.

I worked on Block Island one summer, spending my days as an employee of the island’s Conservancy and my evenings bussing tables and hostessing at a beachside restaurant. My day job had all sorts of perks: I spent the summer outside, teaching little kids about ocean tides and island geography, or leading marsh walks, or overseeing beach cleanups. I got a killer tan and breathed fresh ocean air all day. One of my favorite parts of the job was assisting with weekly stargazing events. These were hugely popular with summer visitors—we called them “night sky viewings” and we held them in the big field at the Hodge Preserve near the northern tip of the island.

My routines ebb and flow regularly. You’ve heard that saying about change being the only constant? For me, I stick firmly to habits, repeating them again and again, until one day: poof! I switch them up entirely. (There is the exception of a few daily rhythms, in which I’ve rarely wavered over the years: I always exercise in the mornings (when possible). I always shower at night before putting on pajamas and having dinner (when possible). I read a book before falling asleep. I only stretch after a run, and never before.