It's autumn: not my favourite season.  While everyone else is waxing lyrical about the glorious colours (and I admit they are glorious) and earthy smells, all I see is past sadness and loss.  And this year has an added kick in the teeth.  I'm back in sheilding, missing friends and family, independence, freedom.  It's too cold out for my poor old lungs, so I'm stuck in doors feeling blue.  And stitching the endless dead-ends into whatever scraps of fabric come my way.