With Labor Day right around the corner, my thoughts are turning to the beach.
In fact, I am a late-spring and early-fall beachgoer, by preference.
I had my share of high-summer beach vacations with my parents when I was a child, but with very few exceptions since I've been doing my own vacation scheduling, I've been a before-Memorial-Day or after-Labor-Day kinda guy.
This has nothing to do with being cheap or contrarian -- or, rather, is independent of how, um, value-conscious or contrarian I might be.
The reasons are simple: I don't like very hot weather, and I abhor crowds. (In the summer, I'd much rather be in the cool, green mountains than sweltering in the sand.)
So at about the time that everyone is packing up and schlepping their stuff back from their summer shares, and the seasonal workers at the resorts start contemplating their migration back to hometowns or schools, I am rubbing my hands together with glee and contemplating walking in bare feet in the incoming tide, and eating seafood suppers, with my lovely wife.
Cape May, NJ this year, I think.