Wolf Branch Sink

Last Saturday I woke up and got the paper and my whole day changed because of a story on the front page. The Lake County Water Authority was allowing visits to Wolf Branch Sink, a natural phenomenon not seen every day around these parts. There is a small waterfall on the site, one of two in Lake County, according to the video on the Orlando Sentinel website. If you are familiar with Florida topography, you know how flat the state generally is and a waterfall, however small, was worth the 45 minute drive to Mt. Dora.

While Mt. Dora is far from mountainous, it is pretty hilly and I have spent many weekends walking up and down the hills during the antique extravaganzas at Renninigers. The turn-off for the sink was just south of the railroad bridge over 441, down a nondescript road that took you by both a brand new housing development and ancient orange groves. Upon entering the property it is apparent why this sink exists as the elevation drops severely and all the water from a 5-mile square area funnels to this spot.

A Water Authority employee at the site told me that due to the recent drought, this branch had been dry for the last 3 years. But a very wet summer, including a September where it seemed like it rained every day, gave new life to the creek and the waterfall. I was told that the waterfall was first observed to have been flowing about two and a half weeks before. They hoped it would continue through today as they were opening up the site for visitors again.

The water flows from wetlands in the area and collects into the small branch which flows downhill over the small waterfall down a tiny "ravine" to a sinkhole where it slowly flows back into the aquifer. In a way a sink is the opposite of a spring.

The sinkhole was pretty modest, and we weren't allowed to explore its rim. The waterfall was flowing less when I saw it than it was in the Sentinel video, but it was still a pretty interesting. I followed the paths back into the Preserve and followed the creek all the way back to the railroad tracks. Huge stands of palmettos guarded ancient live oaks. Beautyberry bushes were everywhere and I wondered if I might see bears eating their brightly colored purple berries. I had a lovely, quiet walk on the well-marked trails and when I came back to the sink, the place was overflowing with visitors. The road leading into the preserve was packed with cars and I had to dodge pedestrians on my way out. I guess the novelty of a waterfall was so unique that it brought out large numbers of observers. But I found it very hopeful that so many people cared about this rarity in nature. On this day I found another encouraging sign that people in this state care a great deal about the environment, despite the reckless manner in which their elected officials treat it.

Old Florida gourmet at the Redwing Restaurant

I've entertained several out of town visitors lately and it is always a struggle to think of good local restaurants with history and character. The transient nature of Central Florida seems to spread to its eateries, and few restaurants seem to endure for long periods of time. One notable exception is in tiny Groveland, located west of Orlando on Highway 50.

The Redwing Restaurant, which originated as someones' house, opened for guests as a restaurant in 1948. Back then it would have been surrounded by citrus groves and one can see a smattering of orange trees today on the way to this modest looking establishment. The bar is directly opposite the front door and the small paneled room is filled with taxidermy. Flanking the bar are two rooms, the "Pheasant Room" to the left and the "Boar Room" to the right, named after the stuffed critters that dominate each space. According to their website, the place has the feel of an "old hunting lodge."

On both my visits I sat in a booth in the room with the bar, the best place to see all the action. According to our waitress, the majority of their clientele are locals with the smattering of snowbirds and motorcyclists (who usually visit on Sundays.) The specials are written on a white dry erase board and they feature items like the Southernly Salad (Caesar Salad with fried green tomatoes), a Catfish Po Boy, and something called a Redneck Guido (basically an Italian sub.) I recommend trying the Fried Green Tomatoes, and I highly recommend the Fried Dill Pickles. On my most recent visit I had the crab cake sandwich which was good with Remoulade sauce on a sourdough bun. The apple cobbler was incredible, so I'd save room for dessert too.

Next door is a petting zoo, with turkeys, pigs, chickens, donkeys and goats, so it makes a good place to visit with kids. On weekends they have live music in a screened area in the back. The thing I like best about this place is that it has an earnestness and unpretentiousness to it that is rare these days in Central Florida. It's real down-to-earth and mighty tasty. Two thumbs up from Visual Ephemera!

Hot Happenings at the Howey Mansion

I first learned of the Howey Mansion through the photostream of Black Doll, one of my Flickr contacts who very artistically photographs and accurately documents the architecture of the past in Florida and parts of the South. An article in the newspaper alerted me that the vacant home was hosting an estate sale and I knew I could not miss this opportunity to see this unique property from Florida's early 20th century past. It was a hot and humid afternoon on the final day of the sale when Mrs. Ephemera and I lined up with hundreds of other folks to shuffle past the lamps, knick-knacks, and the few pieces of furniture that survived the first two days of the extravaganza.

Cars packed the spacious grounds of the fantastic estate and I was amazed that so many people had come out to the tiny little town in Lake County to look at old stuff. It was clear to me immediately that many, like myself, were more interested in the house than the stuff packed inside. In fact so many people were taking pictures that it was hard to walk through any of the five rooms that were open to the public without getting in someone's shot.

Upon entering under a gorgeous stained glass window, a curved staircase hugs the curve of a stone wall, forcing your eye up to an incredible chandelier. The town website adds: "The wall surface of the foyer and lower hall is of Florentine beige marble squares so expertly joined that on first inspection they appear to be of one mass."



From the foyer, you could go to a huge room to the right, a small library straight ahead, or a small dining room to the left. All the rest of the rooms were off limits. The spaces were dark and mysterious despite it being a bright afternoon, and I'm guessing the house was reasonably cool in the days before air conditioning. The interiors reminded me a great deal of the rooms created by builder/artist Sam Stoltz but on a much larger scale. Friends noticed that all the drapery appeared to be original, I was mesmerized by the all the pecky cypress doors and beams throughout every inch of the place.

The web page dedicated to the mansion on the town's website eloquently describes the space thusly:
"Three immense fireplaces, a ballroom-size drawing room, massive beamed ceilings and the servant call-bell phone system are not surprising architectural styles and convenience refinements to see in a house of this size. The unexpected is what delights the eye and creates visual images. For instance, a cozy breakfast room is built in the tower on the backside of the mansion, entered midway up the main staircase and serviced by an enclosed stairway and dumb waiter from the butler’s pantry on the first floor...."


Outside a narrow staircase leading from the back of the house allowed access to a patio with a view of the courtyard. The courtyard's focal point is a lily-filled pond with a delicate mermaid statue raising a shell to the sky from which water apparently used to flow. A small plaque in the garden reads:
A KISS OF THE SUN FOR PARDON
THE SONG OF THE BIRDS FOR MIRTH
ONE IS NEARER GODS HEART
IN A GARDEN
THAN ANYWHERE ELSE ON EARTH


The Howey Mansion was the 1925 home to William J. Howey, a land promoter who purchased 60,000 acres of Lake County, the center of which was to become Howey-in-the Hills. The land, purchased for less than $10 an acre, was cleared, planted with citrus trees and then resold for between $800 and $2000 an acre. He opened the Floridian Hotel in Howey-in-the-Hills in 1924, incorporated the town in 1925 and saw his holdings triple during the Florida and boom of the 1920s. When the Howey Mansion was completed in 1927, a mere 15,000 people were invited for an outdoor performance of the New York Civic Opera Company.

A rare shot of the mansion before it was covered with vines.

The view from the Howey Mansion in 1928.
Today it sits in the middle of a residential neighborhood.

The Floridian Hotel, today incorporated as part of the Mission Inn.

Howey had a nose for politics and he unsuccessfully ran for governor twice in 1928 and 1932. Among the famous politicians he entertained at the mansion were Kansas governor and presidential candidate Alf Landon and President Calvin Coolidge. Howey died in Lake County in 1938 and is buried in a small mausoleum somewhere on the mansion's 15-acre grounds. We searched in vain for the crypt but were unable to locate it.

Miami offices of William Howey's gubernatorial election campaign.

Rumor has it that the house is to be renovated and used for weddings. Restoring this Mediterranean Revival beauty is taunting task as it is very apparent much work needs to be done. But I'm optimistic that such a venture would be successful, for when I attended a wedding across the street at the Mission Inn earlier in the month, three other weddings were being held at simultaneously. So there appears to be a market for it. I wish them well!

Archival images from the State Archives of Florida