Chirp, whistle, chuckle -- even before the street lamps surrendered to the light of dawn today, there were birds this morning, the first of the year as best I recall. A warm, grey morning, smooth as a satin cravat ... too warm by half for a March morning and yet there it is. My 76th birthday.
Doing or arranging or even thinking 76 things strikes me as highly unlikely these days and yet, without any effort whatsoever, 76 somethings have come to pass. It doesn't exactly cast aspersions on all the planning and plotting and organizing that can go into other things, but it does seem to smile a small smile: Go ahead -- work your ass off: It happens anyway.