Autumn is nipping at our heels here in mid-Michigan, bringing with it a shift in mood, color, energy.
Over the weekend, Rick and I went to a nursery so he could get some bushes for his yard.
I, of course, couldn't resist all the color of the pumpkins.
They were everywhere, big, small, white and pocked. 
And of course, I walked away with a monster mum for $5!
I loved the autumnal accessories -- the flags and the corn shocks.
Every arrangement used the colors of autumn.
There were a few pieces of garden statuary, unsold from the season, waiting for a home.
But this one touched me. A stone angel, asleep on his side, the angel's wing protecting him in slumber. 
There is an odd energy in my world -- I'm seeing and hearing about many who have experienced recent losses and change. Their worlds are reeling with shifts in responsibility, new tasks added onto the daily duties already there. There is an edge to people's moods in the office. Quicker tempers. Resignation. Anger. WKAR's radio campaign is going horribly, university cutbacks are expected, and everyone is scared. And hostile.
The flu has hit town and already one of my office colleagues (who happens to be just across the hall) has it. I feel another bout of something coming on, reminding me I have to get the flu shots and soon. The coughing annoys my colleagues and scares Rick. Heck, it scares me, too. Even Gypsy feels me draw in breath to cough and he jumps out of my arms or off my lap, even before the sound.
I long to be in the warmth of my house, playing in glue or in the kitchen or just cleaning, organizing, sorting, purging. By the time I get home and have dinner, it's dark and I shut down. Every day when I go to work, I say a prayer that I am grateful to have employment -- and a job that I love -- that covers my insurance and pays me well enough to meet my needs. But sometimes it is so hard to get out of bed. I just want to stay there and cry.
So, I grab onto the sun when it is there; revel in the color -- which permeates my world on days good and bad. I hug Mr. Gypsy Rose whose rhythmic purr reminds me to relax and that this, too, will pass.
And I remain grateful.
