The other week, I spent a few days with my five-year-old nephew and his parents in Truro. It was a trip we’d looked forward to all summer.

One of my favorite Jerry Seinfeld moments is not from his hugely successful TV series, but from a documentary entitled Comedian, which follows Jerry’s career after Seinfeld had ended.

Well, it’s late October again, and once more the Red Sox will not be in the World Series. Once again the Fenway Faithful will turn to the past for comfort – and the nice thing about baseball is that there’s so much past to turn to.

In the wake of another season of disastrous wildfires in the West, I‘ve been surprised that there have been relatively few forest fires on the Cape and Islands during our long dry summer and fall.

We all live our lives within routines, whether we are aware of them or not. Every morning, in my own routinized life, I eat a simple breakfast and then sip my coffee and read.

September is summer dialed down a notch. By the time you hear this, we will be just a day away from autumn. But if you are like me, you coax summer to stay as long as you can.

We arrived home last Sunday after our annual three-week escape to Lake Dunmore in Vermont. Already I miss that great, deep, five-mile-long northern lake, so different from the Cape’s modest ponds.

I never met Irene but I think I would have liked her.What little I know of her comes from the bench placed in her memory at Shawme-Crowell State Forest in Sandwich.

There is a neighborhood at the far eastern end of Nantucket called Codfish Park. Most of the cottages here are tiny—cozy, a realtor might say—shingles situated right in the sand.

The other day I was walking through a small private cemetery full of 19th century gravestones when I came upon one for “Ruth Ann, daughter of/ Henry and Ruth Sears, / died November 19, 1836,/ aged 1 year, 8 mo.”