It's that time of year when dust, pollen and mold spores (in my case from that miserable mountain of mulch in my driveway) is in the air; when sneezing, snorting, coughing and dripping define the season. It's also an I can feel it coming time. Autumn. The end of summer. The dying back of brilliant colored annuals, the dormancy and drying up of perennials.
I've never liked Autumn, and now that I've reluctantly joined the ranks of women who have outlived their husbands, I like it even less. When my husband was here to share my allergy to Fall, I was less vulnerable to the anxiety it created. Together we appreciated the riot of color at leaf peeping season. Our Indiana countryside rivals that of New England with it's spectacular artist's palette of bright yellows, vibrant reds and vivid oranges. The air can be crisp and clean and invigorating for its last hurrah. But...
Autumn makes me feel vague, on edge, a bit unsettled. I am not in control of this impending season change - not that I ever was, but my coping skills were better honed when my encourager was alive and well to shoo away negative thoughts. My well-being seems threatened. The days are too short. The dark is too long. Like a Blue jay with a bad attitude, I'm irritable, restless and down-right cranky. As the adage goes, "This too will pass". It just can't pass quickly enough for my liking. What is your emotional response to this time of year?
Sandy
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