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Here is a poem by Opie Read about Howey-in-the-Hills, Florida, where Read spent his winters.

"Nature’s Charm Spot"

By Opie Read

Crimson roads in graceful undulation
Draw out their satin lengths and glow upon
The heads of radiant mounts where breezes sing
Inspired hymns of never ending May-time.
To touch with vital spark and tree whose fruit
Is glowing yellow anthems to the sun.
On yonder slope an infant citrus grove
Rocks in the cradle of the wooing air.
And if you list you’ll hear the tender lullaby
That Mother Nature sings unto her child.
Ah, but see the lusty off-spring yonder’
Giant-like in strength beneath a mighty load
In triumphs borne, a season’s luscious victory.
Each virile tree appears to stand in pride,
Full conscious of selected excellence.
Knighted with the garter of achievement,
Child of true-born aristocracy.
Off yonder dimpling down into the earth
A mirror-lake shoots sun shafts toward the sky.
Rippling mirthful at the fiery spot.
A fleece-cloud like unto a graceful ship
Sails through the waters of a fancied sea.
And while you gaze it fades, a beauteous phantom
Gone, as all dreams go, celestial gossamer
Of the mind. Along the wavery shore
The pine trees stand in brooding majesty.
All draped in silken moss-lace, woven in Aerial loom. Upon the wooded crests
Are happy homes, sequestered from the smoke
And blur of city-tainting toil and strife.
Then let me live here freed from “dope” and pills,
In Nature’s Charm Spot, Howey-in-the-Hills.


Suzanne Gray
Howey-in-the-Hills, FL


Opie Read was a good friend to our town founder W. J. Howey; Read spent his summers in Howey-in-the-Hills, Florida.  
Here is a piece about Read wrote about his time in Howey-in-the-Hills: 

The Howey Tribune, March 1930

"Hey You Snowbirds– How Does this Sound to You?"
  
Is there anything more beautiful than a citrus fruit home?
 
Think of a winter dwelling place surrounded by an orchard of grapefruit and oranges. Think of the benediction of sitting on your verandah, catching the sweet scent of blossoms and knowing that on your own land there is a harvest turning to inevitable gold. A newspaper has fallen from your hand and lies on the floor. You look down and are stared at by a monstrous headline: "Terrific Blizzard Sweeps North."

Suzanne Gray
Howey-in-the-Hills, FL