I
moved to Crescent City in 1991 and rented a house on Florida Avenue which
belonged to Alan Talmadge. To the East and Southeast of this house were two
vacant lots on Lake Street. They were untold stories, remnants of what had been
two fine buildings. Both, according to historical accounts were the Orange Inn.
I have a photo of one building on the corner lot which has written on it
“Orange Inn”. I have another newspaper clipping of the building on the other lot.
It, too, was known as “The Orange Inn”.
I would sit on the porch of the Talmadge house and imagine the lives
that must have walked on those lots and stayed in those “Orange Inn”s.
Today,
there are houses along Lake Crescent just to the East of both of these lots,
which I now own, by the way. I built the house I have lived in for 25 years on
the southernmost lot and recently bought the other lot.
When
I was building my home, it was the first new construction to occur in Crescent
City in years. People would pass by to watch the very slow process of its being
erected. I would enjoy mentioning this fact in conversations when meeting new
people who lived here. I do have to tell you, that I was soon upstaged by the
new Winn-Dixie which was erected shortly after my house began. The notoriety was fun while it lasted!
During
the landscaping process, I found pockets of empty bottles buried by the Orange
Inn proprietors when they cleaned the rooms of their guests. I found natural
gas pipes, two concrete septics, one with an old metal toilet attached which
must have been in a bathroom – not outside, but not in the house. I found the
cornerstones of the Inn but, inspite of hopeful exploration, never found much
else.
Over
the next few years, however, I listened to many stories of the history of not
only my land, but of the whole neighborhood. There used to be a lumber yard all
along the lake and the office was just West of the Talmadge house- or was it
the Talmadge house. I would venture to
say that about every home and building that is standing in this part of
Crescent City has a story to tell.
The most significant home is at the north end
of Lake Street, The Hubbard Mansion which took up enough land to be referred to
as Hubbard Park. It might also be called a park because Mr. Hubbard planted a
botanical garden which extended all the way South right to Florida Avenue,
where my land begins.
I
have been on many walks around Crescent City.
The flora is present in abundance. At
their blooming time of year, the yards are filled with azaleas. The air
is rich with citrus blossom fragrance. The Florida Iris or the Ginger or Hawthorne or Verbena or Crepe Myrtle or Bouganvilla or Plumbago or Prickly Pear or Morning Glory vines
or any number of fruit trees or about anything that will grow in this climate
flourishes in abundance. But, the Hubbard Estate, now divided into many
individual homes, still blooms through and through, however sparsely, with exotic bushes and flowers and trees.
Even on my land, probably, seeds, probably carried by birds, a strange flower
will grow for awhile until a storm or a freeze takes it away.
I
am notcertain exactly when it was that I finally realized that I am no longer a
stranger here, but I now feel quite at home here in this house where I have
lived for 25 years. I am an elder. I live alone with my two cats. I feel safe
and I feel that I belong where I am. When I take my daily walk, I savor the
sights along the way. Down Prospect Street, the peacocks live in abundance.
ALongthe route to Lake Stella and back,
the Osprey, the Limpkin, the Ibis, the Sandhill Cranes, the brown bunnies, an
occasional alligator or snake, all seem to coexist peacefully.
Most
of all the wondrous beauty that is my home are the magnificent sunrises on Lake
Crescent and the breathtaking sunsets on Lake Stella. Just before the sunrises,
although the sky is light, there is a total silence. Then, as the sun officially rises, some birds take
flight while others remain on their perches and the choir begins to greet the
day. Sunset is the opposite. The hustle
and bustle begins to lull until darkness and silence prevails and the night
sounds begin.
Storms
and heat and bitey bugs and, Oh yes,
fleas and red ants in summer and annoying
freezes in winter bring balance to the affluence of beauty in this small
village of a city. These intrusions make living all so real This is what brings
people together making a community HOME. This is what makes the beauty so
vibrant. Crescent City is a special place, a quaint southern town of many
cultures and perspectives. After awhile, I find myself wondering if perhaps I
was born here and the fifty years before I arrived was another lifetime. Who knows!!!
Well, that's my story of Home. Now it is your turn to write your story - the one that belongs in the annals of history of your home in the New Millenium. Write it from your heart,.
