Happy Labor Day!

At the beginning of every September, for as long as I can remember, my family has stayed out at our house on the beach for the holiday week. Let me clarify –– we’re not just talking about a nuclear family here. I mean Family. I think the head count’s at 30, this year, all in one house. Welcome to the South.

My grandparents have had the house for years, probably 15 or more. Even before that, Folly was always my beach of choice, with it’s unassuming vibe and eccentricities. There’s about as many memories here as there are umbrellas, bright & rooted in the sand. Sailing with my uncle, the water purple & rippling with teams of deep-water jellyfish. Being petrified of sailing because of having watched Jaws, II, earlier that same day. Attempting, twice, to learn how to surf. We won’t get into how extraordinarily well that went.  Building not castles, but sand fortresses with my brother, and praying all night that they’d still be there in the morning. The endless race to see who’s getting most brown. The crack, drizzle, & slurp of crab legs & oysters beneath the porch beams.

Speaking of memories, here’s a few old beach photos I took with my first big girl camera in college.