A plaque welcomes you as you step thru the door of my father’s home. A friend of my mother’s gave it to her and it’s perfect.
WELCOME TO OUR LAKE HOME
If you come cheerily, here shall be fun for you.
If you come wearily, here shall be rest for you.
If you come sorrowing, love will be shown to you.
At our lake home, dear friend
Peace will abide for you
And the door will swing wide.
It has always been all those things for us. And all that enter. That’s the kind of home my parents have always had. Everyone is welcome. They have the kind of home that beckons to family and friends to “come a callin.” You never know who will drop in. It’s wonderful. They didn’t always live on the lake but now it’s even more inviting.
Come along with me. I’ll show you around.
This is the pond on the side of the property. There’s a few gators in there. You can’t see ‘em but they’re there.
Another view of the pond. Don’t you just love the Spanish moss?
As I walked out to the lake behind the house, I saw this bird drying his wings on the dock.
Oh, and there's lots more gators out there in the lake.
If you lived here and had to pick up the moss, you’d probably hate it when the wind blows but I think it’s beautiful. Of course, I don’t live here.
The lake is really low. It’s just crazy that the area where Beth lives, only a few hours away, was flooding just a short time ago. It’s so dry here. These cypress knees are usually under water when the lake it up where it’s supposed to be.
We used to be able to walk off this dock onto the boat. Now Daddy can’t even keep the boat here.
Baseball fans might be interested to know that Wade Boggs owns the home just a few doors down from here.
Pixie, don’t jump!
Can you see a break in the trees straight across the lake? The break is the entrance to Cross Creek. Literary fans might recognize the name. Cross Creek was the home of the Margorie Kinnan Rawlings, the author of The Yearling and her autobiographical work of the same name, Cross Creek.
I hope that you enjoyed the tour. Please leave your fifty cents in the basket by the door on your way out. Y’all come back now, ya hear?
