In Seaside, Fla., every house has a front porch. And every house has no lawn. The front porch is to re-introduce the notion of neighborliness. And the absence of lawns is to encourage the use of native area plants and to conserve water. Revolutionary ideas, right?

Seaside – which you may recognize from the movie The Truman Story – is the anchor of a lovely strip of little Florida beach towns located on the panhandle between Destin to the west and Panama City to the east. I dearly love this area in the fall, when the tourists have mostly left and the white sand beaches are almost deserted and the emerald-to-blue Gulf water is still pleasantly just warm enough.

What to do? Enjoy the sound of the waves breaking on shore. Sleep late. Sit on the beach. Swim. Watch the sunset over the water. Buy and cook really fresh seafood. Get a drink at the Red Bar in nearby Grayton Beach and, if you really want some action, check out the Red Bar’s Saturday night cover band. Go and sit in the starkly lovely Chapel in Seaside and think good thoughts. Browse through the books in Seaside’s Sundog Books store, or check out new music at Central Square Records upstairs. Or hit the many galleries nearby. Have a taco at the beach. Hike the dune trails at Grayton Beach State Park. Enjoy the zingy ginger chicken at the Great Southern Cafe in Seaside.

Seaside itself is a “new town,” designed from the ground up beginning about 1980 by developer Robert Davis, to be a walkable community of houses, on an 80-acre plot of “sand and scrub,” rather than the beachfront high-rises so endemic throughout Florida. The houses are Victorian-inspired and painted in pastel colors, with working shutters and white picket fences. Many have rooftop towers, to allow ocean views. Seaside is not a Disney vision of an ideal little town, though; it’s an idealistic but functional realization of how a small American town can work again. The fact that it’s not cheap means that it’s located on some highly desirable Florida beaches. You wouldn’t want to go there if it were in Iowa, after all.