For a new art project, I decided to drive out to the Webster Flea Market complex on Monday to look for some mirrors. This is one of the most interesting parts of Florida–it’s rural, inland, and very “old.” It’s also very conservative, judging by the plethora of political signs. (One billboard condemned President Obama’s incorrectly perceived “socialism,” the “c” in “socialism” replaced with a hammer and sickle.)
I took a lot of photos while seeing just how much of it is abandoned. Like the desolate, empty towns along Highway 98 in northwest Florida’s Big Bend area, west central Florida has its share of ruin. It’s picturesque and intriguing on one hand– an amateur historian’s dreamscape– but also sort of melancholy.
The Citrus Tower in Clermont tells you that you’ve driven WAY too far west in Central Florida, and that you will soon need to refill your gas tank. Years ago, while driving through an orange grove to reach Skytop Ranch, my car got mired in sand. I could see the Tower nearby, and imagined people riding up and down the elevator, wondering just what the hell that guy was doing far below in his beige Plymouth Volare.
Here’s The Speckled Butterbean eatery at the Webster Flew Market. I didn’t ask any of these folks for releases; I’m sure they were all too high from eating funnel cakes to even notice me. Besides, I can make myself invisible now that I’m almost 55. Right near here is an ATM machine built into the side of a van. You can’t find it without first having to go into the information center to ask the bored woman behind the counter just WHERE the giant ATM sign was pointing to.
Close to Webster is Center Hill; this picture is of downtown Center Hill, and not one business remains open. Kirk filmed a movie right here years ago called Jacarando Joe, directed by George Romero ; he was in a few crowd scenes.
The opposite side of downtown Center Hill. Don’t be depressed! I am sure there’s a Wal-Mart within a few miles, where you can stock up on all sorts of stuff you may even need.
Dade City is a cool little town. Here’s the courthouse on the square. There are also streets filled with local businesses, and I stopped into the hardware store. In it I found vintage cartons of Corelle dinnerware from the 1970’s ! I didn’t buy any though, and you know why. The store smelled just like the hardware store I labored in as a kid, from 1970 through most of 1978. We sold bags of asbestos, stored along the wooden staircase leading to the cellar, and they puffed out little clouds of poison every time we went up and down.
Check it out! It smells like Contac brand paper, wood, and turpentine.
Just off the main drag in Dade City. I see houses like this and I picture myself living in them, no doubt slowly turning into the local version of Boo Radley.
The African Methodist Episcopal Church in Dade City
This is located in a tucked away rural area between Dade City and Highway 50. It’s in a place called Lacoochee. I wonder what it once was? Look at the large window holes: maybe it was a furniture store? Or a farm machinery parts store? Who knows? There’s nothing open in Lacoochee that I could see except for a rundown convenience store. West of here is Trilby, and the area between Trilby and Lacoochee they’ve christened Trilacoochee. It’s right near the Withlacoochee State Trail. UPDATE: a reader wrote in that Pasco County has yet to demolish this, and cars keep running into it.
More of shuttered Lacoochee.
West of Dade City is an area that was colonized by Irish Catholics and Benedictine monks. This is in an area near Saint Joseph– a Georgian Colonial in an orange grove.
Also near Saint Joseph; I think it’s blurry because I was standing on a soft shoulder next to my car. Can’t you just picture Big Daddy waiting on the front porch for Emmy Lou to come back home from the dance… with a shotgun across his lap?
The Abbey church at St.Leo Abbey and University.
The Mary Chapel inside the Abbey church. The altar stone she stood on now supports the tabernacle, which seems oddly inscribed AVE GRATIA PLENA– Hail, full of grace– which traditionally refers to Mary.
Facing the main altar from the choir (where the monks assemble). It is SO beautiful and quiet in here. It’s worth the drive to be able to experience the absolute calm I find inside this building.
San Antonio, to the west of Saint Leo, is a thriving little village. The San Ann Market makes great sandwiches. The woman who runs it is from Manchester, England. Along the nearby streets are lots of wood frame vernacular houses, quietly sleeping in the sun.
The church at San Antonio.
The Catholic school next door.
Back on Highway 50 heading home there is this Cracker relic sitting along the road. Beautiful lines and porches… imagine how this could be preserved!
Here’s the tiny Linden Methodist Church, across the road from the house above. I parked on the soft shoulder and walked across the grass to get to this; it’s all so quiet, and some streets lead further south into the village. There’s a cemetery near here, too, which I’ll have to explore one of these days.
And then I am pointed towards home. Highway 50 rolls and pitches as it approaches Orlando, and at a few points you can see the towers of downtown Orlando in the distance, clustered like the Emerald City.
Where to next? Maybe McIntosh and Micanopy and Evinston, way up there south of Gainesville. I think the Marjorie Kinnan Rawlings house is near there, too; I wonder if she’s home?