It's the Little Things An Appreciation of Life's Simple Pleasures

September Oh, it's a long, long while From May to December, But the days grow short When you reach September. "September Song" Short, yes. But, oh, so sweet. September, more than even those highly touted pastel months of spring, holds so much promise. And more than even January, September heralds a new year. A new beginning. New clothes. New pencil boxes. New friends. Things start in September. Things like school, with their floors all shiny and their books stacked high. Pencils are long in September. Erasers full. Everyone is an A student. Everyone is equal. We're where we're supposed to be. Back home, and back to work. And we look good being there. We're rested. We still have that summer tan. But no longer do we have to worry about keeping to bathing suit weight. We pull on the corduroys, pull over that sweater, and cover up until spring. We get new haircuts in September. And haul out the stockings. And put away the white shoes. We're sick of them anyway. Up from the meadows rich with corn, Clear in the cool September morn, . . . John Greenleaf Whittier If you care about baseball, September brings the pennant races. If you're a Cleveland Indians fan, it means the pain is almost over. "By then I've given up, and I've started following the [pro football] Browns," says Tom Wiener of Washington, D.C., an avid Indians fan, who has come to accept September's cruel fate. "That's the good thing about September. There's something new to move on to." And if you don't care about football, you can wax your skis and not feel like a fool. The first smell of rekindled fireplaces blankets the neighborhood. You see your breath for the first time in months. You drink Scotch again. Symphonies warm up. The PTA comes back to life. School buses are everywhere. . . . Kids in slickers wait for buses; Sorry Sues and Gloomy Guses. Orchards swell with Red Delicious, Baldwins, Macs, and Northern Spies. Pickers work through rain like fishes, wiping their eyes. Tim Clark, The Old Farmer's Almanac September has given us so many good things: the Constitution. Brigitte Bardot. Agatha Christie. George Gershwin. The ice-cream cone was invented in September. A little late for that summer of 1903, but better late than never. And Labor Day is always in September. You have to love a month that has a holiday named Labor when no one works. September also has the honor of always ushering in autumn. This year: 7:48 a.m. EST on the twenty-third. Fall, leaves, fall; die, flowers, away; Lengthen night and shorten day; . . . Emily Bronte June's a cliche. We march down the aisle in September now. "The weather is better, and everyone is back," says Hedda Kleinfeld, of Kleinfeld's bridal salon in Brooklyn, New York. She dressed over a thousand brides for this September. "September is really the beginning of the year, and for the bride, your choices for dresses are wonderful," she says. "You can wear what you wish. You don't have to do summer or winter. You can have a satin dress if you want." The world is heady with harvest. Apples in Washington State. Cranberries on Cape Cod. Mums everywhere. "September's that wonderful lull between the music season in August and the ski season," says Aspen, Colorado, restaurateur Lauretta Bonfiglio. "September's the time for the local people to enjoy. It's the mellow time. And theWilson, Craig is the author of 'It's the Little Things An Appreciation of Life's Simple Pleasures' with ISBN 9780375758966 and ISBN 0375758968.