Things to Do in Syracuse in September

September is harvest season on the Seneca and Cayuga Lake wine trails, about an hour's drive from Syracuse. The vines are heavy with fruit, the tasting rooms are buzzing but not yet packed with fall tour buses, and the drive itself through rolling hills just starting to blush with color is half the appeal. The air outside the wineries carries the faint, sweet-tart smell of crushed grapes. It is the last month you can comfortably sit on an outdoor patio with a glass of dry Riesling without a heater.

The 580 km (360 mile) Erie Canalway Trail runs right through Syracuse's outskirts. In September, the mosquitoes have died back, the humidity has dropped, and cycling the flat, crushed-stone towpath is pleasant. The section from Camillus to Jordan is lovely, passing restored aqueducts and locks where the only sounds are your tires on gravel and the water flowing alongside. The shade from the trees is still full. But the path is often littered with the first fallen leaves, crunching softly under your wheels.

For years, Onondaga Lake was Syracuse's shame, an industrial waste site. The ongoing cleanup has been notable, and the 11 km (7 mile) loop trail around it is now a civic pride. In September, the late-day light over the water is impressive, casting a warm glow on the Syracuse skyline to the east. The air often carries the clean, mineral smell of the lake mixed with the scent of goldenrod from the restored meadows. It is a surprisingly peaceful urban escape, best enjoyed just before dusk when the daytime joggers have left.

Syracuse's downtown is a layered cake of architectural styles, from Gilded Age bank lobbies with marble floors that feel cool through your shoes, to the brutalist concrete of the Carousel Center (now Destiny USA). September's mild temperatures mean you can spend hours walking without wilting. The light plays beautifully off the terra cotta facades of buildings like the Gridley Building, and you can step into the soaring, silent atrium of the State Tower Building to escape a sudden shower. It is history you feel in the texture of the stone as much as read on a plaque.

This is sacred local ritual. Orchards like Beak & Skiff or Abbott Farms, within a 30-minute drive, become weekend destinations. The experience is sensory overload in the best way. The crisp snap of a Macoun apple pulled from the tree. The sugary-cinnamon smell of fresh cider donuts frying. The feel of cool, mottled fruit in your hand. The taste of tart, fresh-pressed cider that hasn't been pasteurized into sweetness. In September, you get the early varieties and avoid the peak October crowds that turn the parking lot into a traffic jam.