There’s something uncanny about Labor Day, at least here on the East Coast of North America. The day before Labor Day you can strip, don your bathing suit, head for a body of water, dive in and swim, re-emerge, remain scantily clad while going to get an ice cream cone still dripping from your plunge, and not see one goose pimple.
Not so the day after Labor Day. Forget your damp bathing suit. Grab a sweater and restock your cabinets with cocoa and scotch (preferably Chocolate Mamas chocolate and Oban…).
On the East Coast of America where I hail from, the day after Labor Day (post-Labor Day: PLD) means summer is done. Dead. It means winter is descending faster with each breath exhaled.
Pull a sweater over arms and long underwear over chilled gams, a plunge in temperature is not a problem; what is a problem post Labor Day is a sudden absence of LIGHT. Daylight. Come noon PLD you should be looking for your flashlight.
To hikers what this means is PLD you now have stark choices; get up at 5:00 AM to get a jump on the sun as it makes an arrival, forego breakfast altogether or eat nuts and berries from a 
pocket on the trail. That or sleep in and after dragging out of bed attach a headlamp to your dome to keep the oncoming shadows at bay.
(Excuse me while I pause to pull at my hair and growl a the dimming sky seen out my window at 5 past 1:00 PM. This typed in werewolf blood…)
Point is, to deal with miserly PLD daylight you can either cut down on your activities and pleasures- hiking say- or embrace your inner werewolf and celebrate the dark. I recommend the latter…
This said, a few days back when faced with a restless dog, legs itching to move and a darker shade of grey settling all around, I lace up my boots, dressed my dog in her orange reflective coat, reached for my newly purchased LED lantern and took to the trail.
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