Others may be dragging hoses through their flower beds trying to keep those blooms blooming, but I’m happy to report I’ve discovered a new heat-proof gardening technique that would make my mom (but not my late mother-in-law) roll over in her grave.   Silk Flowers.

Gracing my front stoop is an ever-fresh collection of blossoms that look perky from the curb in any weather. They give the impression on a quick drive by, that I have, in fact, gardened.

As a consolation to my green-thumb mom, I’ve stuck them in her umbrella stand. She would at least be happy at least that it’s being used.

And probably astonished that a family of bag worms has nested among the blossoms.  Don’t tell me you can’t fool nature.

I’ve always been a fan of motivational speaker Tony Robbins. He seems to have such a good time up there in front of thousands, and who could not be inspired by his enthusiasm for following your passion?

But I never expected to find him in the master bedroom closet. The other night, though, there he was. I’d gone fishing through a few more cardboard boxes in seemingly endless quest to put my late husband “stuff” in the hands of someone who could use it.

There, in a little plastic flip box was an audiotape of Tony – labelled in the unmistakable perfect printing of my Bob’s older sister Sally. Through a happy coincidence, the box also held a working tape recorder. The reward of the cleaning spree was an evening with Tony, urging me to “shape my destiny” and identifying for me the “six basic human needs.”

Unfortunately, we only got through three (certainty, significance and love). Apparently there’s a second tape somewhere. I can’t wait to find it. Meanwhile, Tony has motivated me … to keep cleaning.

The time of day was not appealing. 7:15 AM for morning meditation. But after the moaning and groaning, I have to admit that the Sikh meditation exercise was one of the most lasting gifts I carried away from a vacation week at Chautauqua.

Repeating it for 15 minutes each morning feels symbolic of another lesson learned there, that regular practice is as important as success. It is so easy to flit, to try one thing and then another, when remaining faithful to a regular routine can provide the structure we need. To say nothing of the calm that comes from putting the cell phone on “quiet” and closing the door.

If random thoughts sneak in, as they inevitably will, try calling them by name, as Elizabeth Lesser suggests in “The Seeker’s Guide.” Just say “thinking, thinking, thinking,” and they will skulk away. At least temporarily.

I’m happily enjoying my “Chautauqua Fix” – one week in summer that I return to the Chautauqua Institution in Western New York for a summer diet of lectures, concerts, and ice cream on the village green. Coming here is like boarding a time machine, back to the turn of the 20th century.

Sure, there are IPhones here and IPads. But there is also a violinist performing for pleasure on Bestor Plaza, Chautauqua’s village green, and families strolling with kids and dogs. In this place where automobiles are allowed only for unloading and then banned to the outside lots, it’s possible to reconnect with the Power of Slow.

But even here, in this turn-back-time paradise, we wrestle with scheduling overload.

I laugh as my friend Robin, here for the first time, tries to map out a reasonable schedule from an intimidating list of opportunities. A poet, she’s pledged to spend some time writing this week.

I understand the dilemma. It’s easy to want to be in two places at once. This afternoon, at 3:30, there’s an hour of poetry reading at the Literary Arts Center. And at 4, a program at the Jewish Center called “Shalom, Y’all.” Maybe a little of both? Anything called “Shalom, Y’all” is too good to miss.