Friday, February 25, 2011

Running Away ...Full Circle

Our last stop in Central Florida was Morgan Farm's fruit and strawberry milkshake/shortcake stand in Ruskin. OMG,people....strawberry milkshake...breakfast of champions! And the honey bell oranges were still on the stand as well. It don't get no better 'n this, folks!
Making our way back up north, we stopped at Oleno State Park in High Springs, FL. While shopping for meat to grill out at our site, the clerk in seafood commented on Mike's 'guitar/Hawaiian' shirt. No, I replied, I'm the picker and he invited me to join the session at Music Junction in town that night, which we did. About 15 pickers were there, Ted, our host, on dobro, a bunch of guitars, a stand up bass (woman!), two banjos, a mandolin and a mountain dulcimer. It was a very hospitable group and we had a great time. O'leno State Park is one weird piece of geography. The Santa Fe River is the big draw but after flowing strongly along a few miles, with gorgeous little riffles among the cypresses, it seems to end....just simply stops with banks on three sides, not pooled, not stagnant, just....stops. And goes underground for the next few miles. If you hike over it, so to speak, there are sinkholes, etc., hinting that it's down there somewhere and sure enough, several miles later, up it pops and carries on just like everything was perfectly normal.

Some of the sinkholes have developed personalities of their own...a bright day-glo emerald skim covering their surfaces except where dotted with gi-normous turtles or the occasional gator (which we never saw but rumor has it) and surrounded by cypress knees....


...that stand at brooding attention like deformed gnomes in the shadows of the forest; woody stalagmites jutting up helter skelter out of the soil.
A suspension bridge tops off the River Loop Trail and the entire park features CCC buildings that hint at what the town of Leno looked like way back when its name was changed from Keno to make it more respectable. Not too much later, it tanked. So much for respectability. Guess some Irish wit named the park.




Alas. We said goodbye to the lovely forest, pine and palm scrub scenery as we crossed over the Ga. state line to a tacky forest of billboards and stripper signs. "Moonlight thru the pines?" Well, might have to revisit those lyrics, since I read in the MDJ that Atlanta is considering trashing the present law that prohibits clear-cutting to make signs more visible....alas.








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