We regret to inform you that your summer is being cut short. Labor Day arrives this year on Sept. 1, falling on the first of the month for the first time since 2011. The number of days between Memorial Day and Labor Day is, yes, actually, a few days shorter than it usually is.
Partly because of this calendar quirk and partly due to the blessed relief in the heat-humidity index, we’ve actually been feeling pretty autumnal since mid-August. Starbucks dropped the Pumpkin Spice Latte and a cable-knit tumbler to carry it out in this week, as well as introducing a new Thanksgiving-themed pecan-oat drink (that might be a pass).
Tumbleweed Tuesday is nigh, people. Only five days and counting.
To many of our readers, the promise of a shortened summer calendar isn’t exactly a bad thing, of course. Tuesday, for many, may be the happiest, giddiest day of the year, if only for the drop in traffic volume.
We, like many of you, are looking forward eagerly to the change in the weather — both literal and figurative. There are so many good things coming our way next week and throughout the coming month. We find ourselves humming that nostalgic oldie “Try to Remember” from “The Fantasticks”:
“Try to remember the kind of September
When life was slow and oh, so mellow. . . .”
September means calmer shopping, with less of a frenzy in the supermarket. Wonderful things are available at farm stands, from tomatoes to autumn dahlias. The world’s best apples will be coming in at the Milk Pail in Water Mill, while there’s still good white corn to be found.
The ocean is warm and there are more parking spots in the ocean beach lots.
September also brings peak migration for the monarch butterflies, which have visibly increased in numbers this year, a rare bright spot, ecologically speaking. Songbirds, hawks, warblers, and raptors will also be on the move through the so-called Atlantic Flyway, the main north-south route for migratory birds, bringing delight to the birdwatchers among us.
The town board cannot declare Tumbleweed Tuesday an official local holiday; that would seem rude to our guests and visitors. But we’ll be celebrating. Quietly. Perhaps with a cold brew at the Clam Bar, where we can finally get a table.