Hick chick -- er, chic
Some people nearing retirement age seek to escape from the grind of urban life and return to the land, so to speak. THere's nothing wrong with deciding to relocate to a little cabin in the middle of the woods, miles from civilization. Hell, J.D. Salinger has been living in the middle of New Hampshire for decades.
But then there are the folks who think, "Gee, Thoreau went and lived in the middle of the woods. Why don't I move to middle of some wooded area and build a rustic-looking house with ultramodern features and pretend like I know what I'm doing there!"
Such is the "moderated ruralism" of the "Cracker Modern" (no, that's not my appellation; the developer is really calling it that) development) development in rural Florida.
The idea is a corporate reinvention of new urbanism, an antisprawl movement that advocates compact, old-fashioned towns where residents can commune in parks, shops and restaurants within walking distance of their homes. Instead of connecting with neighbors, new ruralism promotes connecting with the land - though these cabins in the woods come with wireless Internet access and porches with screens that unfurl by remote control.
Now, it'd be silly to think that people could actually be expected to suffer the unpleasantness of the untamed wilds. You know, all that nature and stuff.
"We honestly asked ourselves, 'Will people live in this environment?' " said Kevin Fox, the St. Joe executive overseeing RiverCamps. "We've got critters, we've got heat, we've got humidity."
Not to worry. The developers have it covered.
At RiverCamps on Crooked Creek, which is near Panama City Beach and offers two-acre lots for up to $1 million, the overhaul involved thinning the forest and burning the thick underbrush so that softer, greener grasses would emerge. With the land reworked, a landscape architect identified 54 "environmental jewels" - Spider Lily Marsh and the like - and mapped them out for prospective buyers. Brochures promise homes in the "Cracker Modern" style: lots of wood, metal roofs, broad roof overhangs to block the sun and screened porches.
Of course, some might argue that the enviromental jewels were, you know, all that thick underbrush that occurs naturally and makes the nature, well, nature. Unspoiled if a nuisance to the latter-day faux Thoreau.
And then there are the thornier matters, like the fact that all this people who want to "go back to the land" don't exactly know how to do that. But, fortunately, once again, the developers have thought of everything.
At the first WhiteFence Farms site, southeast of Tallahassee, St. Joe is preparing 373 acres of former watermelon and peanut fields for "people who have always wanted to live on a farm but don't see themselves as farmers," Mr. Fox said. They must also be willing to pay $20,000 to $45,000 an acre for the land alone. The company is digging ponds and smoothing pastures for buyers it imagines dabbling in horse riding, beekeeping, wildflower growing and field plowing.
You have to wonder about the folks who have this desire to settle an urbane backwater. It recalls a phrase frequently used by a sage philosopher, who spoke often of people "with more money than sense." (Or was that "cents"?)
Ms. Dudley said she wanted to emulate Florida's early rural settlers, known as crackers, who, wrote a British traveler in 1857, "lived among the pines, raised a few hogs and cows, grew a little patch of corn, and just barely survived." Yet Ms. Dudley said she also expected the comforts that cracker settlers sorely lacked.
"Absolutely I want that privacy and those woods," she said. "Yet at the same time, I want to be able to invite a neighbor over for a glass of wine and I want a nice kitchen with a Sub-Zero refrigerator."
True that. We couldn't have the place going all rustic.
I have to think that, had Thoreau had the chance, he probably would've tricked out Walden with a 42-inch plasma TV, Dolby surround sound and lightning-fast wireless Internet. It really helped with all the meditation and convening with nature. He probably also could've used a few "farmhands" to do all the chores, too.
But then there are the folks who think, "Gee, Thoreau went and lived in the middle of the woods. Why don't I move to middle of some wooded area and build a rustic-looking house with ultramodern features and pretend like I know what I'm doing there!"
Such is the "moderated ruralism" of the "Cracker Modern" (no, that's not my appellation; the developer is really calling it that) development) development in rural Florida.
The idea is a corporate reinvention of new urbanism, an antisprawl movement that advocates compact, old-fashioned towns where residents can commune in parks, shops and restaurants within walking distance of their homes. Instead of connecting with neighbors, new ruralism promotes connecting with the land - though these cabins in the woods come with wireless Internet access and porches with screens that unfurl by remote control.
Now, it'd be silly to think that people could actually be expected to suffer the unpleasantness of the untamed wilds. You know, all that nature and stuff.
"We honestly asked ourselves, 'Will people live in this environment?' " said Kevin Fox, the St. Joe executive overseeing RiverCamps. "We've got critters, we've got heat, we've got humidity."
Not to worry. The developers have it covered.
At RiverCamps on Crooked Creek, which is near Panama City Beach and offers two-acre lots for up to $1 million, the overhaul involved thinning the forest and burning the thick underbrush so that softer, greener grasses would emerge. With the land reworked, a landscape architect identified 54 "environmental jewels" - Spider Lily Marsh and the like - and mapped them out for prospective buyers. Brochures promise homes in the "Cracker Modern" style: lots of wood, metal roofs, broad roof overhangs to block the sun and screened porches.
Of course, some might argue that the enviromental jewels were, you know, all that thick underbrush that occurs naturally and makes the nature, well, nature. Unspoiled if a nuisance to the latter-day faux Thoreau.
And then there are the thornier matters, like the fact that all this people who want to "go back to the land" don't exactly know how to do that. But, fortunately, once again, the developers have thought of everything.
At the first WhiteFence Farms site, southeast of Tallahassee, St. Joe is preparing 373 acres of former watermelon and peanut fields for "people who have always wanted to live on a farm but don't see themselves as farmers," Mr. Fox said. They must also be willing to pay $20,000 to $45,000 an acre for the land alone. The company is digging ponds and smoothing pastures for buyers it imagines dabbling in horse riding, beekeeping, wildflower growing and field plowing.
You have to wonder about the folks who have this desire to settle an urbane backwater. It recalls a phrase frequently used by a sage philosopher, who spoke often of people "with more money than sense." (Or was that "cents"?)
Ms. Dudley said she wanted to emulate Florida's early rural settlers, known as crackers, who, wrote a British traveler in 1857, "lived among the pines, raised a few hogs and cows, grew a little patch of corn, and just barely survived." Yet Ms. Dudley said she also expected the comforts that cracker settlers sorely lacked.
"Absolutely I want that privacy and those woods," she said. "Yet at the same time, I want to be able to invite a neighbor over for a glass of wine and I want a nice kitchen with a Sub-Zero refrigerator."
True that. We couldn't have the place going all rustic.
I have to think that, had Thoreau had the chance, he probably would've tricked out Walden with a 42-inch plasma TV, Dolby surround sound and lightning-fast wireless Internet. It really helped with all the meditation and convening with nature. He probably also could've used a few "farmhands" to do all the chores, too.
posted by Alexander Dubcek | 05:15
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