Open the door to Levy County Quilt Museum

Winnelle Horne of Chiefland can remember as a small child playing under the quilt her mother was making. She declared, “I ain’t never going to do that.”

The girl who played under the quilt grew up and made many quilts. Two new ones are growing piece by piece right now. She even lives in a quilt museum. So much for never going to do that.

Horne is the resident director and spiritual Godmother of the Levy County Quilt Museum located south of Chiefland off Alternate US 27. It is the only quilt museum in the state of Florida.

Wide porches wrap around two sides of the house. Comfortable rocking chairs are abundant. Birdhouses and feeders hang from the porch roof. Outside walls are line with framed quilt squares. No two are the same. Is there a limit to quilt designs?
Apparently not.

Step through the front door of the museum and enter a large, light-filled room. Hand-stitched quilts are draped on racks. Tables by the door have smaller pieces like chair throws and table coverings along with crafts. All are for sale. A small section of the room holds Levy County memorabilia.

The soaring walls tell their own history. Quilt patterns, some made with appliqué, others chain-stitched, are mounted works of art, fresh and timeless, a testimony to amazing creativity.

Alice Mae Hare of Chiefland, for example, found inspiration in a black shoe. A founding member of Log Cabin Quilters, she designed a quilt using the outline of a black high-heeled shoe filled with flowers.

Members of Log Cabin Quilters meet every Thursday from 9 a.m. to 2 p.m. at the museum. As they arrive, Horne hugs each one.

On the left is the quilting room, a busy place on Thursdays. Two or three women will work on the same quilt. Like knitters, their hands move seemingly independently, stitching away while they talk.

“We have three rules,” Horne says. “We don’t talk about religion, we don’t talk about politics and we don’t gossip.”
“That’s why it is so quiet in here, ” quipped Hare and everyone laughs.

Finished quilts are for sale at the museum, averaging $300 to $400 for a hand-stitched quilt. Proceeds pay museum bills.

The oldest club member is Goldie McHenry of Chiefland, age 92.
“My mother was a quilter before me,” McHenry says. “We made quilts to keep warm.”

Horne started the Log Cabin Quilters in 1983 with nine members. In the beginning they met in people’s homes. The first quilt show was in Fanning Springs. Quilts for sale were hung on clothesline strung between trees.

Quilting is a social activity, a chance to try out dreams in fabric and in life. Stitching together in the early 1980s, they dreamed of a small log cabin quilt museum, a place where people could become acquainted with quilts and the club could meet.

When founding member Mary Brookins died of a brain tumor in 1988 her husband Thomas brought Horne $400 of her insurance money and said do what you want with it.
That became their museum seed money. The quilters found they could multi-task – make quilts for sale and whip up chicken and dumpling dinners for sale, do bake sales, hold garage sales, anything for the building fund.

Along the way, the little log cabin became a big log house.

“I’m a believer in my Lord,” Horne said. “One morning about 3 a.m. the Lord said you are to build a 50×100 log house with porches all around it off a main highway. I thought ‘whoa’, where is that going to be?”

Off U.S. 27, right where it is today, complete with those wraparound porches. The Levy County Quilt Museum, opened in 2000, sits on two acres leased for 99 years at no charge from Thomas Brookins, Mary’s husband.

No state or federal money was used to build the museum. Much of the labor to build and maintain the building and grounds was, and still is, donated. The museum is a non-profit organization and yes, everything was paid up front as they went along. They have no debt.

“It has just been a wonderful project for us,” Horne said. “I often said ‘Lord, are we ever going to do it?’ but you know I still get a thrill coming up that rise and seeing the building. To me it is still hard to believe.”

There is no admission charge to visit the museum but Horne would be pleased if you sign the guest book just inside the front door.

Visitors have come to the Levy County Quilt Museum from all over the world.

If You Go
Levy County Quilt Museum, 11050 N.W. 10th Avenue, Chiefland, FL
Hours: 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. every day
Phone: (352) 493-2801
Upcoming: 23rd Annual Quilt Show Nov. 24 thru Dec. 3 at the Quilt Museum from 8 a.m. to 5 p.m. daily. On Saturday, Dec. 2 there will be a chicken & dumpling dinner and bluegrass gospel music. Sunday, Dec. 3 is a quilt drawing.

Reprinted with permission from The Observer. Photos © 2006 Lucy Beebe Tobias. Lucy is a freelance writer, photographer and artist living in Ocala, Florida

Sunset stalkers wanted, must work evenings

Wanted: Sunset stalkers. Must be willing to work evenings. Your job: Watching the sun go down. It is a terrible job but somebody’s got to do it. All applications considered regardless of race, creed, age, political party or sex.

I tried out recently for the sunset stalker position. The job location was Pigeon Key in the upper Florida Keys. Sure there were more than 100 other possible applicants, all of whom just happened to be at Pigeon Key that night as part of a Florida Outdoor Writers Association Conference. Most people were standing around picnic tables, paper plates in hand, hungrily waiting for dinner to appear, oblivious to the drama about to begin.

A few of us had more important fish to fry. Dinner could go on hold. Sunsets wait for no one. You have to be there. We stalked the shoreline and paced the boat dock, on countdown, cameras in hand, looking west at the Gulf of Mexico, known as Bayside in the Keys.

Pigeon Key is small, just five acres. Hundreds of railroad workers lived here in the 1800s when Henry Flagler wanted the Seven-Mile Bridge built, part of his Key West extension of the Florida East Coast Railway. The workers are long gone. Visitors are welcome. There is an admission fee. Historic buildings and a science center inhabit the small island being restored and preserved by the Pigeon Key Foundation. Website: www.pigeonkey.net

For visitors, this little island serves up sunsets Hollywood would die for. But it can be iffy. Would thick clouds on the horizon obscure the sunset? Might this be one of those endings when sun’s rays shot up through the clouds but no fireball touches the water? Or could this be the night we’d see the famous flash of green as the sun sizzles out and says good night? Would it be beautiful or blah? Every moment as the sun goes down, things change.

Tension was in the air. So were dragonflies. And swallows, daring gravity like a kamikaze pilot married to a heat-seeking missile. Jerking and turning in tandem with their small mosquito targets, they made silent kills, dive bombing with swept wing precision.
Sunsets happen fast and are packed with drama. Just when it seemed the clouds would win out, a round eruption of brilliance brighter than any volcano highlighted a cloud on the horizon. The sunset would not be denied.

Liquid gold and burnt orange spilled onto the water, making a path of fire colors that ran across the water and lapped at our feet. Cameras clicked. Everyone danced around like sports photographers in the end zone on a touchdown pass, as though moving a few feet to the left or right would make the view even better, the picture even more perfect.

The swallows became frantic, stepping up their mosquito bombing runs, getting in a few more morsels before twilight. Fish, bitten by the same urge to feed before dark, struck bait. Fisherman wading in the shallows cast their lines and got lucky.

Genesis tells us God like to walk in the Garden of Eden during the cool of the day. I like to think that was late afternoon, when shadows lengthen and swallows do their air shows. Surely he stayed for sunset.

You too could apply to be a sunset stalker. This is an ongoing job call. Just show up.Job sites vary. Maybe in a garden. Perhaps at the beach or a park. Or wherever you live.Your back yard works fine. No experience necessary. Be available as the sun goes down. Put dinner on hold. Turn off your cell phone. Go outside. Sit. Look. Listen. Stand. Dance. Walk around. Take pictures. Pray. Be thankful.

Take a cue from the Creator. God saw all that he had made and it was very good. And so it is. Especially the sunsets.

Lucy Beebe Tobias is a freelance writer, artist and photographer living in Ocala, Florida. Text and photo © 2006 Lucy Beebe Tobias.

Fanning Springs State Park

Welcome to Fanning Springs State Park on the banks of the Suwannee River. There is no reason to lean on the railing in your street clothes and feel left out. Come prepared to dive in or jump into the headspring. This is a place for participating.

Did you bring your bathing suit? Good. Beach towels? Nice. Snorkel for underwater viewing? Cool. Picnic lunch? Excellent. Walking shoes? Check. Camera? Sweet. Snap the memories.

Close to the parking lot are restrooms with showers, making them a good changing area. From the restroom area, stairs and also a ramp lead down to the spring basin.
There are viewing areas overlooking the springs, affording good photographs of the whole spring basin.

The main part of the spring basin is a semi-circular pool of liquid blue green color that shimmers and dances in the sunlight. About 30 feet wide and 18 feet deep with limestone walks, the water is so clear you can see vents, places on the bottom where sand erupts as water comes out of the Floridan Aquifer.

Some 65 million gallons of water a day shoots up into the spring basin, making Fanning Springs one of Florida’s 33 first magnitude springs. Water from the main basin flows to an adjacent pool about 150 feet wide and three to six feet deep.
You can get wet by walking in from the shore using a floating dock across the basin.
Water temperature is a constant 72 degrees year round, making it bracing to say the least.

Forget dipping the big toe in first then slow immersion by sliding off the dock. Best to just jump in. It’s easier that way. Afterwards, you’ll feel, well, invigorated and want to do it again.

Sometimes when heavy raining season arrives, river water rises and comes into the spring, bringing dark water. At those times, swimming is closed. Call the park ahead of your visit, (352) 463-3420, to make sure you haven’t packed your bathing suit in vain.

Even if swimming in a first magnitude spring isn’t your thing, you will appreciate the picnic area overlooking the springs. A meal tastes better with a water view.
And now that fall is here, there is a chance you could see migrating manatees.

The picnic area has a playground and a volleyball court. Nearby are open fields good for frisbee fun and impromptu pickup football and soccer. As the weather cools in the fall, there are occasional live music happenings. Local talent performs on the second Saturdays of the month on the big stage in the event field.

Remember those walking shoes? Dig them out and amble down the boardwalk next to the springs. This elevated boardwalk leads to an overlook on the Suwannee River. Bring your camera. Along the way you will see a zillion bald cypress knees and trees and maybe glimpse pale lavender apple snail eggs on tree bark just above the high water line.

The Suwannee River runs deep and wide. Even the small glimpse from the overlook makes you wonder what lies around the bend. Plenty. Historic, natural, cultural and recreation possibilities are waiting for discovery. A newly opened Suwannee River Wilderness Trail runs for 170 miles from White Springs to the Gulf of Mexico. To know more call (800) 868-9914 or visit www.suwanneeriver.com and download a free Discovery Pack.

The town of Fanning Springs is a hub on the Suwannee River Wilderness Trail. A hub is a place where you can explore the river and surrounding areas by canoe or boat, bicycle, horse, automobile or on foot. It is a place to get information on outfitters, guides, events and lodging.

At Fanning Springs State Park, for example, lodging is available with cabins inside the park. Nothing primitive here. We’re talking fully equipped, even the kitchen utensils are in the drawers. Cabins sleep up to six people. Reservations are done through Reserve America, phone (800) 326-3521.

For canoes and kayaks, Fanning Springs is a good place to put in for a seven mile down river paddle to Manatee Springs. Visitors may enter the park by boat via the Suwannee River. Idle speed is required in the river run due to manatees. Entrance fee from the water is $1 per person.

Or bring a canoe into the park and do the shorter spring run and explore the nearby river. Another option would be to rent a canoe or kayak from Suwannee River Tours at (352) 490-9797.

Inside the park a three-fourths mile nature trail goes through an upland mixed hardwood and pine forest.

Just a short distance from the park, on the other side of US highway 19/98 is a trailhead for the Nature Coast State Trail. This is a 32-mile rails to trails paved path circling the town of Fanning Springs.

Whether you come loaded with everything from canoes and bathing suits, or just drop by for a picnic lunch next to a first magnitude springs, Fanning Springs State Park is the real Florida, the kind of place to put high up on your “favorites” list.

Note: This story is reprinted with permission from The Observer newspaper, October 2006
Lucy Beebe Tobias is a freelance writer, photographer and artist living in Ocala who can be reached at Lucy@Lucyworks.com ©2006 Lucy Tobias

If you go
What: Fanning Springs State Park
Where: 18020. N.W. Highway 19, Fanning Springs. FL 32693.
Phone: (352) 463-3420
Getting there: On U.S. Highway 19/98 in the town of Fanning Springs
Admission fee: $4 per vehicle up to eight people. $3 single car occupant.
Scuba diving fee: $10 plus tax per diver

Winning photograph

During last week’s Florida Outdoor Writers Assocaion (FOWA) Conference in the Keys photographers could enter a photo contest for the best pictures taken in the Keys during the conference.

Lucy entered and won second place.Fun! Awesome! See the first, second and third place winning photos at www.fowa.org/html/photo_contest_06.html

Good morning sunshine

Let’s be honest. People who rise at 4:30 a.m. and are ready to go swimming by 5:15 a.m. have to be a little weird.

Okay, maybe not terminally weird, like send in the white coats and you get a little room with no sharp edges, but think on this . . . 99 percent of the world is still asleep at that hour. They may, or may not, be the sane ones.

I’m one of the one percenters. The car pool to the pool is my lifeline. Someone waiting on me to come out the front door is the only reason I swim from 6 a.m. to 7 a.m. three times a week.

Let to my own devices, and my lack of inner discipline, there is no way that I’d be up, alive (barely), in a swimsuit and gym bag over my shoulder ready to say ”good morning, sunshine” to the face in the mirror.

But three times a week I say “good morning sunshine” to my car pool pals. It’s a running joke. Where’s the sunshine? It’s pitch dark. We are the sunshine.

Off we go, to Central Florida Community College pool in Ocala, Florida. Often we listen to Moody radio, 91.9 FM, where they’ll give you the news at the top of the hour and the Bible verse for the day in the same breath.

Sometimes there is a forum, three people energetically discussing a topic. It must be prerecorded. They can’t actually be that perky at 5:30 a.m.

My personal favorite so far is the morning they discussed how disadvantaged the English language is because we only have one word for love. The Eskimos have at least 14 different words for snow – - dirty snow, fresh snow, old snow. You get the idea. And the Greeks had words for different kinds of love — a parent’s love for a child, a friend’s love for a friend.

But we’re really limited — one word, love, with many shades of meaning. Sometimes we’re afraid to use it at all, thinking it will be misinterpreted and how are we to understand verses such as “God so loved the world he gave his only begotten son.” These are things to think about while doing laps.

Then we arrive at the pool. Gym bags and gear totes are hauled out of cars. The nice warm bed we left behind becomes a dim memory.
Stripped down to bathing suits, standing at the pool’s edge, we wait for coach to write our masters workout on the board.

Did you know masters are anyone over the age of 20? It is quite a shock for high school and college standout swimmers to show up for a masters workout and see people in their 40s, 50s and 60s. Why, that is so ooooooooold.
Yet here we are, somehow equalized by our desire to swim better, faster, further, one stroke at a time.

A toe is poked in the water, then the pronouncement, warm or cold. Some dive in, others walk in. And so it begins. The workout. Your choice, buoy, kick, no freestyle. So many of this and that. One lap after another.

The sky is inky blue black. Lights are on. The water has a liquid velvet feel. Initial kinks are overcome after a few laps and the rhythm sets in. Stroke. Stroke. Touch the wall, turn, and swim the other way. Laps add up. Sometimes I lose count.

I know my lane. It is the slow lane, way over by the gutter. Don’t even think about getting near the fast swimmers; just get out of their way. They’ll be doing 2500 yards and asking for more. I’ll be lucky to make 1700 on a good day.

Gradually the sky turns puffy blue. In the east, the sun starts to rise. There’s no fanfare, no brass band. Daybreak is always a surprise and a blessing. It happens quietly, like a cat softly padding into a room, somewhere around 1200 yards.

Sunlight dances in the pool water and reflects off the bottom. Colors change. Birds fly overhead. Clouds turn white, their edges sharp now against blue sky.

The workout can call for full intensity laps. Coach likes heavy breathing, as long as someone else is doing the heavy breathing. What’s with that?
He actually smiles and says ‘now that is what I like to see’ when you pop up red in the face and breathing hard after a full out lap.

Then it’s over. Workout done. Time to leave. We’re reluctant to get out of the pool. One last lap, backstroke, looking up at the sky. What a great way to start the day. Thank you, Lord.

Occasionally we go for coffee afterwards. We’ll see someone we know and they’ll say ‘wow, you all are up early’. We say we’ve been swimming for an hour already.
‘So early in the morning? You must be crazy,’ they reply, shaking their heads and moving away. Working out so early in the morning could be contagious.

Yep. We swim and get to see the sun rise. Crazy and cool at the same time. Join us. Get up early. Dive in! The water is so fine.

© 2006 Lucy Beebe Tobias, all rights reserved. Lucy Beebe Tobias is a freelance writer, photographer and artist. She lives in Ocala.