Everybody fears #17.  The island hole at TPC Sawgrass haunts all of professional golf's big boys (Tiger, Phil, and the rest of the pack) who are swinging away at THE PLAYERS tournament kicking off today in Ponte Vedra Beach, FL. 

I understand.  I played the course last Spring with my father (see my story on the TPC Sawgrass Experience in SL's April '09 issue).  #17 beat me.  Dad smote it, however, and I even shot a video of his tee shot. 

Hikers, spelunkers, and other outdoors lovers often advise "take nothing but pictures, leave nothing but footprints." As a photographer, I've always tried to adhere to that. Yesterday morning at the beach in Camp Helen State Park in Florida's beautiful panhandle, I found a lot of different footprints to photograph. 

Photo: Robbie Caponneto

A 450th birthday calls for some serious celebrating and Pensacola plans to commemorate its founding all year long. The Florida Panhandle city, home to a festive lot of residents well rehearsed in the art of merriment, has planned a slew of events throughout 2009 and in the process remind St. Augustine which city was actually settled first. (See below for the answer.)

There’s something strange afoot in Lake Wales, Florida. Automobiles seem to defy gravity on one notorious side street.

Just down from peninsular Florida’s highest point, the aptly named “Spook Hill” has been thrilling the willing for nigh on 100 years now by making wheeled vehicles seemingly roll up hill. Is it the result of a buried magnetic pole? Or is it the protective ghost of a Native American chief and the gator with whom he fought to the death, both of whom are supposedly buried nearby? Or maybe it’s a Bermuda Triangle-esque portal to another universe?

They just don’t make them like this anymore. With a winding lane that twists around a central fountain and between brightly painted, gabled buildings, the 78-year-old Chalet Suzanne looks more like an old-world village than a Florida motel. Add a high-end restaurant that’s served celebrities from around the world, a soup factory that’s fed astronauts, and an airstrip atop the highest ridge in peninsular Florida, and the little 26-room hideout in Lake Wales easily scores the classification as unique.

Yesterday I hit the red leather-bound volumes of Southern Living, starting at the top left corner of the shelves in 1966. What I found felt very much like a time capsule.

He's become so famous, so significant, so normalized in everydayspeak, John James Audubon's name has eclipsed its birth purpose. He's become a brand, as marketing minds would say.

Born the same year the United States chose the "dollar" as its currency (1785), Audobon led a naturalist's dream-life; he was a Daniel Boone of bird watching, snaking along the South's backwaters and tromping in its woods, all in effort to complete his inspired project he called Birds of America. Though he didn't find and paint all the feathered species (he came close, taking more than 400 to show off in Paris), Audubon left indelible marks on the region as we now know it.

***Above, Audubon's "Mourning Dove," originally called "Carolina Pigeon"

Photo by Carol Tedesco

Working as an editor at Southern Living occasionally affords me opportunities to get behind the scenes at various events and places, iconic and otherwise. As a result, I’ve experienced more than a few moments of awe, visages of beauty that have given me cause to pause and just watch what unfolds before me. I walked into such a moment last week when I watched rehearsals of the inimitable Nutcracker Key West in the island town’s Tennessee Williams Theatre.

I spent last week near Everglades National Park, the wetlands version of Yellowstone, and took my very first airboat tour. They give you ear protectors for a reason. My teeth are still shaking. But, the 45-minute ride with two Europeans was quite worth it - the ecology of swamp and hammock and cypress groves is gorgeous. And they were pretty spooked by the alligators.  

You have to pay for your room and breakfast at the Grady House in High Springs, FL, but entertainment from the resident be-spotted “Grady Bunch” comes from for free.

Jackson's, just across from the Plaza Ferdinand

A few months back there was a lot of buzz about the merger of Jackson’s – one of Pensacola’s venerable steakhouses – with the Great Southern Restaurant Group, which owns and operates the Fish House and the Atlas Oyster House. I finally got the chance to eat at Jackson’s post merger and, not that I expected anything less, but I’m happy to report that the food was terrific.

Recently, Time Magazine (a publication owned by our parent company) published a story titled, "50 Authentic American Experiences." These huge types of magazine articles always intrigue me. Rarely do I not grab the magazine or click on the story to see what editors spotlight as the best BBQ in Texas, the greatest songwriters of all-time, or America's favorite beaches. I love the breadth of expertise and the narrowing down of opinions.

Time, though, missed the mark, especially in the South. I'll offer my thoughts and you can decide.

Windy days in South Florida.

(Photo by Scott Suchman)

Can you imagine a better swing? Visitors to the Florida Panhandle's "Forgotten Coast" spend weekends in Apalachicola hoping the rest of the world continues to bypass this sliver of fishing village untainted by eager land developers. 

(Photos courtesy Audubon of Florida)

Parting the humidity and swatting mosquitoes and other buzzing bothersomes, folks are heading to a swamp in Florida for the rare chance to see a flower so valuable it cannot be priced. The elusive ghost orchid, the bloom that launched a bestseller, box-office stunner and countless pilgrimages through gator infested waters, dangles from the trunk of a 500-year-old bald cypress in Corkskrew Swamp Sanctuary in Naples. The big deal here is not how the plant looks (kind of like an old man with close-set eyes and a long Mark Twain moustache), but how rare it is. It takes perfect weather conditions and a prayer to get this sucker to come out.

(South Carolina's 1,500-year-old Angel Oak. Photo credit.)

When I think of trees, I think of the four spring-flowering Bradford Pears that made a square in my childhood backyard. How the trees formed a lane perfect for pitching baseballs (to my mother mostly). How I watched them, unknowingly, grow from weak treelings to wonderful, burgundy-leafed adults. And how they sort of watched me rise as well. Trees are markers of the changing seasons, givers of shade, reminders of time, and anchors to place.

Here are a few famous ones in the South that bring to mind the words of William Cullen Bryant, "The groves were God's first temples."

(Photo of Charleston's Beard-winner, Hominy Grill, by Shayna Anne)

Foodie powers-that-be recently announced this year's James Beard Awards, the highest culinary accolade out there, America's meal medal of honor. The shindig, which you can see via pictures on the JB Foundation website, looked to be a real tony affair, with the tops of our nation's restauranteurs/chefs/food writers toasting their love of cuisine. And once again the  contingent who call our proud region home showed up bigtime at the celebration.

*This post contributed by Travel Editor Carolanne Roberts

If you know Rosemary Beach, you’re saying aaaaaaah right now and nodding your head as those-in-the-know often do. If you don’t—and it’s still something of a secret, even in Southern reaches of Florida—then you’ll want to this place the rest of us rank high on our Beaches to Sigh For list.

(Photo and video by Tanner Latham)

“Good luck on #17.”

The valet guys at the Sawgrass Marriott in Ponte Vedra Beach, FL whisper it when you toss them your keys. Our breakfast waitress winked when she said it while dropping off the check. No surprise, really. This is arguably one of the most famous holes in golf, and if you play the Stadium Course at TPC Sawgrass—-home to THE PLAYERS Championship kicking off today—-it’s the hole that’s stuck in your head from your first swing on the practice range until your final putt on 18.

Why?

Normally, manatees are long gone from Blue Spring this time of year, as they’ve made their way back to the waters closer to the Gulf of Mexico or Atlantic Ocean. I, however, got lucky on my visit to the state park (on the western edge of Orange City, Florida) in late-April, as two calves were being reintroduced into the wild. The story was they had been injured and taken to Sea World. The staff there had nursed them back to health and placed them at Blue Spring. Having been acclimated to people, they chose to hang out at the dock with their radio transmitters bobbing on the surface just above them as they lounged on the spring’s bottom.

Is this a face only a mother could love? Apparently not, as sailfin suckermouth catfish (Pterygoplicthys disjunctivus), like the one pictured, are breeding in such numbers they threaten the health of the rivers in which they live. Native to the Amazon basin, these catfish are exotic to waters in the South, such as the Blue Spring basin in north central Florida where this specimen was captured in late April.

(Photos by Richard Banks)

Wakeboarding combines the gravity defying, aerial marvels of gymnastics with the ramps, speed, and whacky jargon of skateboarding. While working on a story on an Orlando-based wakeboarder, I visited the Air Nautique Wake Games at the Orlando Watersports Complex and saw first-hand just how incredible the sport is. While being pulled by a boat like a water skier, wakeboarders flipped backwards and forwards, twisted, whirled, jumped ramps, rode rails, and seemingly flew just yards off shore. It was jaw-dropping, crazy wild, baby.

Dance

(Photos by Richard Banks)

No, it’s not a pile up, it’s art, my friend. Titled Dance, the 12-car choreographic sculpture is one of 20-plus works that together comprise Season Four of Sarasota Season of Sculpture. Mostly located in or adjacent to the city’s Bayfront Park, the works grace the waterfront until May 26, 2008.

And in This Corner…

Up the road a piece in St. Petersburg, the Ringside Café serves delicious burgers, cold beer, and frequent live music. During the recent Tampa Bay Blues Festival, the Ringside hosted Texan Lucky Peterson and the place was packed with music fans from as far away New Jersey and Texas. It was so crowded that the club was at capacity when my buddy and I arrived. As a result, we spent the first 30 minutes of Peterson’s show watching from the club’s windows (see photo).

Even as busy as they were, the staff remained exceptionally accommodating and efficient throughout Peterson’s two-set show. And even with the out-of-towner infusion, the Ringside still had an air of neighborhood hangout, with locals happy to offer inside tips on other area must-see restaurants, clubs, and attractions.

2742 Fourth St.
St Petersburg, FL 33704
Google Map

(727) 894-8465

Currently, Ringside Café doesn’t have a web site.

When You Hear the Bell Ring…

If you’re in Sarasota and in need of live music, try the 5 O’Clock Club. Located on Hillview, on the southern edge of downtown, the club offers classic rock and rockabilly to dance and reggae. The night I visited, Tampa-based Democracy cranked up the Rastafarian groove with covers of reggae icons Bob Marley and Peter Tosh, and a few of their originals.

Sporting the slogan “the neighborhood club with a national sound,” the 53-year-old 5 O’Clock advertises live music seven nights a week and is managed by – check out this name – Sally Majestic. No, she doesn’t leap buildings in a single bound, but she does run a sizeable nightclub – which could certainly be considered a superhuman effort – and answers the same question night after night, as patrons query if hers is the name her parents gave her.

1930 Hillview St.
Sarasota, FL 34239
941-366-5555
http://www.5oclockclub.net