The seasons change

It is my brother's birthday today. I can only reach him by email these days, and since we rarely make contact with each other, I never really know where to begin when writing to him. So I started with the old standby: The weather. I told him I hoped that it was as nice where he is as it is here, and that we've lately had weather periods that vaguely resemble seasons rather than simply "Kinda cold" and "Boiling hot."
Then I mentioned that I'd been gardening lately, and realized that I really didn't have a whole lot else to report. Certainly, there are plenty of things going on in my life, mostly happy things, but for the first time in a while, I didn't have a laundry list of stuff I'm doing - plays, projects, work,...etc - to rattle off. It's not that I'm not doing these things, but it occurred to me that they're no longer occupying the lion's share of my brain. I've managed to create some silence in there somewhere. I've made room to hear the seasons.

And that made me happy.

Thanks, Gary.
Happy Birthday, Brother.