Harry de Leyer, a native of the Netherlands known as "the Galloping Grandfather," attesting to the fact that even in his late 50s he remained a grand prix show-jumping rider to contend with here and abroad, died on June 25 in Stanardsville, Va., at the age of 93.

Ralph Gene Carter had a "wicked sense of humor" and will be remembered for "his love of reggae music, epic parties," and his efforts to win an award in the annual largest pumpkin contest in East Hampton, his family wrote. He died on July 21 at home in East Hampton. He was 66.

More than 16 months after the onset of the Covid-19 pandemic caused a surge in East End real estate sales, the boom is still going strong, but there are signs it is "entering a more stable, less reactive environment."

Rick Mosebach of Hicksville "didn't want to just walk in circles around my house," so he chose a destination, Montauk, and decided to get take his time covering the 90 miles on foot and learned a lot about the Island on the way.

The East Hampton Town fire marshal's office found a treadmill's electrical cord to be the cause of a fire on the morning of July 20 that "totaled" a Springs house. The treadmill was in the basement, and the electrical cord had been caught under one of its legs.

As the Delta variant of Covid-19 continues to spread in the United States, the Centers for Disease Control on Tuesday officially recommended that even people already vaccinated against Covid-19 once again wear masks in indoor public settings if they are in a region with "substantial" or "high" levels of community transmission.

“What a hell of a man a man could become,” John Steinbeck wrote in The Winter of Our Discontent, the novel that cemented the Nobel Prize committee’s decision to award him the 1962 Nobel Prize in Literature. Read between the lines and New Baytown, the book’s fictitious setting, starts to look a lot like Sag Harbor, where he lived while writing it.

A mesmerizing installation by Maren Hassinger at Dia Bridgehampton merges the inside with the outside and the old with the new.

Tempers flare and face-slapping breaks out when East Enders’ conversation turns to egg sandwiches. We are committing a social crime tantamount to treason by suggesting what we’re about to suggest, but here we go.

Sorry, egg sandwich. You heard it here: the Morning Taco from Carissa's Bakery beats all.

Cellphone service is not all that bad around here — in February.

A fire last week that destroyed a family’s Springs house was notable in two respects — its cause and the conditions in which firefighters responded.

Beach amenities services would appear to require a permit from the town or villages. However, with so many miles of shoreline and limited awareness among caterers and others, the rules are routinely ignored.

There is a rhythm emerging in the struggle between me and the deer over who rules the garden.

Does it astonish you that there is a ferry in service today on the Long Island Sound that landed in France on D-Day?

A Monday afternoon in the D.M.V. road test queue in Patchogue.

As I was leaving Wittendale’s the other day holding a tall milkweed plant on the way to check out, a monarch butterfly flitted about me — a good sign.

Memories of funky, beautiful, artistic Springs in the summer of ’64.

New real estate transfers.

Search #womenofweed on Instagram and an image pops up that could, at first glance, be mistaken for teatime at grandma’s. Captioned “High Tea,” the photo is an explosion of pink: floral wall paper, delicate bone china, and blooming peonies scattered about. Look closely though and you’ll see there are other buds — dried and green — on the table, as well as a feminine hand holding a spliff.

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