Laylay Summer

Some summers are about big plans. This summer feels more like a Laylay summer.

Not perfect. Not polished. Not some Pinterest version of coastal living where everyone is magically hydrated, organized, and glowing at golden hour. I mean real summer. Georgia summer. Beach bags, too much sun, sandy shoes, wet towels, sunscreen, grocery store runs, local seafood, family chaos, and little adventures close to home.

Leslie smiles for a beach selfie under a blue canopy, wearing a pink swimsuit and cap, with white sand, ocean water, and beach chairs in the background.

And honestly, that might be my favorite kind.

I started out thinking about this like a summer bucket list, but the more I looked at it, the more I realized that was not really the story. The story was not about checking things off a list. The story was about noticing the kind of summer I was already living.

A Laylay summer has to include different beaches, obviously. Not all beach days are the same, and I stand by that. Some beaches are for swimming. Some are for walking. Some are for sitting and acting like you have your entire life together. Some are for collecting shells and getting quiet for a minute. Some are for realizing that the ocean has a way of making your problems feel smaller, even if it does not magically fix them.

Smiling leslie in a cap and pink top stands on a blue beach accessible mat with dunes and ocean behind her.

I went seashelling at a different kind of beach, and that felt like its own little adventure. There is something peaceful about looking for shells because you have to slow down. You have to pay attention. You have to look at the ground in front of you instead of rushing ahead. Sometimes the prettiest things are half-hidden in the sand, waiting for somebody patient enough to notice them. That feels like a whole life lesson, but I will try not to turn every seashell into a sermon.

I also hunted for shark teeth at the beach, collected shells, and spent time by the pool, which feels like peak summer to me. A little sand, a little sunshine, a little water, and a little treasure hunting never hurt anybody. There is something fun about searching for shark teeth because it feels like a tiny coastal victory every time you find one. You are just standing there like a beach detective, deeply invested in tiny black triangles like your whole day depends on it.

Then there were s’mores with the kids, which sounds sweet and simple until you remember that marshmallows, chocolate, fire, and children together are basically a full community event. There is always somebody who burns the marshmallow on purpose, somebody who wants theirs barely toasted, somebody who gets chocolate everywhere, and somebody who needs a napkin after it is already too late. Somehow, in the middle of all the sticky chaos, it becomes exactly the kind of memory summer is supposed to be.

Leslie smiles in a car while wearing heart-shaped sunglasses and a light blue dress, with sunlight coming through the window.

Family vacation was part of Laylay summer too, and honestly, family vacation is never just one thing. It is beach time, too much sun, somebody needing aloe, and somehow ending up at the grocery store every single day even though you swear you already bought everything. It is snacks, sunscreen, wet towels, sandy shoes, and at least one person asking, “Do we need anything while we’re out?” five minutes after somebody just got back from the store.

That is part of what makes it a family vacation. It is not always peaceful, and it is definitely not always perfectly planned. Sometimes it is hot, messy, funny, and slightly overpacked. But it is time away, a change of scenery, and the kind of chaos that somehow turns into a memory later.

Leslie in an all-terrain track chair at Crooked River State Park

Leslie holding up a seashell in a patriotic bikini

A Laylay summer also has those local moments that make home feel special again. I explored Fort Clinch State Park and spent time at Crooked River State Park. I walked the waterfront in St. Marys, which is one of those simple local things that still feels special every time. There is something about the waterfront that makes you breathe a little deeper. Maybe it is the view. Maybe it is the slower pace. Maybe it is just the fact that water always knows how to calm me down.

Child in blue shirt and black cap stands on a sandy beach holding a yellow shovel, looking toward leslie.

I also shopped and dined in historic downtown St. Marys, because sometimes the best summer days are not huge plans. Sometimes they are local streets, good food, cute shops, river views, and realizing you do not have to go far to make a memory. Sometimes home still has a few surprises left if you are willing to act like a tourist in your own town.

This summer also reminded me that

Leslie hugs a young child in a kids' pool at a water park. The child’s face is covered with a pink heart sticker, and water slides and umbrellas are visible in the background.

community counts too. I went to the farmers market at Orange Hall, made it to local festivals and community events, and visited the community theatre. Those are the kinds of things that remind me summer is not only about beach days. Sometimes it is fresh produce on a Saturday morning, a local show, familiar faces, people-watching, sunshine, and realizing there is plenty of life happening right here close to home.

The farmer's market at Orange Hall has its own charm. Fresh produce, local vendors, people wandering around with bags in their hands, and that small-town feeling that makes a Saturday morning feel like an event. You do not even have to buy much for it to count. Sometimes just being there, seeing people, and enjoying the morning is enough.

Smiling woman in a pink beach chair holds a tumbler on a sunny sandy beach under a clear blue sky.

And of course, I am always enjoying seafood at a local waterfront restaurant, because that is not just a summer activity. That is coastal living.

Nature trails were part of the season too. I love when summer pulls me outside and reminds me that God made beautiful things before we ever learned how to overthink everything. Sometimes you need trees, fresh air, a slow walk, and a little reminder that not everything has to be rushed. A sunrise walk, a hike, or even just taking a few summer photos can count as a whole little reset. It does not have to be dramatic to be meaningful. Sometimes the simplest moments are the ones that make you feel the most present.

Splash pads made an appearance too, because summer in Georgia is not playing around. At some point, you stop worrying about looking cute and start appreciating anything that helps you cool off. Splash pads, pool days, homemade popsicles, fresh lemonade, and ice cream all have their place in a Southern summer survival plan.

I also checked out other flea markets, which are their own kind of entertainment. You never know what you are going to find. It might be something useful. It might be something weird. It might be something that makes you ask, “Who owned this, and what was happening in their life?” That is the beauty of it. Flea markets are part shopping, part treasure hunt, part people-watching, and part anthropology project.

Kid movie nights were another sweet piece of the season. There is something special about slowing down, watching a movie, and letting the kids enjoy the simple magic of it. Not everything has to be big or expensive to matter. Sometimes the best memories are popcorn, pajamas, and everybody piled together watching something silly.

Vacation Bible School with the church family was another big part of it too

. VBS is one of those things that is loud, busy, joyful, exhausting, and meaningful all at once. It takes people showing up, helping out, loving kids, and creating memories that last longer than we realize.

There were also TED-style peer talks, which sounds official, but really it means good conversations, shared wisdom, real-life perspective, and people learning from each other. I love spaces where people get to talk about what they know, what they have lived, and what they are still figuring out. Sometimes the best lessons do not come from a textbook. Sometimes they come from somebody sitting across from you telling the truth.

And yes, classes made their way into Laylay summer too, because apparently my version of summer includes learning, growing, and signing myself up for things like I do not already have enough going on. But honestly, I am proud of that. Growth counts too. New lessons count too. Becoming more of who you are supposed to be counts too. Summer does not have to mean you stop becoming. Sometimes summer is when you realize you are still growing.

Laptop showing Zoom Workplace with a smiling leslie on video call; tabs read Join from Zoom Workplace and Zoom My Notes

There are still a few little adventures I would love to make happen. Visiting Summer Waves in Jekyll Island would be a fun summer day, and a boat tour of Cumberland Island National Seashore sounds like the kind of coastal adventure that belongs in a Laylay summer. I also like the idea of taking a day trip to Cumberland Island, visiting the St. Marys Submarine Museum, exploring the Kings Bay Naval Submarine Base Museum, visiting the Camden County Public Library, stopping by the Camden County Historical Society, and spending an hour at the Sugar Mill.

But even the simplest summer moments count. A picnic in the park. Fresh lemonade on a hot day. Reading a book outside for a little while. Trying a new ice cream flavor just because it is summer and that feels like reason enough. Making a summer playlist. Going stargazing. Baking something with summer fruit. Wearing a pretty sundress. Making friendship bracelets. Visiting an outdoor cafe. Having a BBQ with friends. A water balloon fight. Homemade popsicles. A bonfire. A pool day. A visit to a botanical garden. A scrapbook page full of little memories. A simple plan that turns into a little adventure.

That is the beauty of a Laylay summer. It gives me permission to romanticize the small stuff. Not in a fake way, but in a “this is my life and I am going to notice the good parts” kind of way.

Because that is really what all of this comes down to. Not checking things off just to say I did them. Not trying to make summer look perfect. Not trying to create some highlight reel version of my life. Just being present enough to enjoy where I am, who I am with, and what this season has to offer.

This summer has reminded me that joy does not always need a big plan. Sometimes joy is a different beach. Sometimes it is a shell in your hand. Sometimes it is shark teeth, sticky s’mores, a local show, a farmers market morning, a pool day, a waterfront dinner, or a grocery store run that somehow becomes part of the story.

It is about saying yes to the beach, yes to the family memories, yes to the church family, yes to the trails, yes to the local shows, yes to the kid movie nights, yes to learning something new, and yes to local adventures that remind you home can still surprise you.

It is about making space for joy on purpose.

Summer does not have to be expensive to be meaningful. It does not have to be perfect to be beautiful. It does not have to look like a magazine. Sometimes summer is a beach chair, a sunset, a shell in your hand, a sticky s’more, a church event, a quiet trail, a local adventure, or a cold drink on a hot day.

Sometimes it is a picnic. Sometimes it is a festival. Sometimes it is simply deciding that joy is worth making time for.

So here is to Laylay summer. The different beaches, the shark teeth, the seashells, the farmers market at Orange Hall, the family memories, the church family moments, the summer treats, the local festivals, and all the little adventures still waiting.

Here is to making this summer one to remember.