Here, in the countryside away from the beaches, we’re in the midst of Old Florida. A cypress swamp, pasture, small ranch (with donkeys), and a state road border the campground. Cattle graze on grass in the pasture — and on palmettos in the cypress swamp. Bird sounds range from hooting owls and trilling finches to the crowing roosters. Down the road are fruit orchards and a mine.
The closest town is Bushnell. It’s small, with a population around 2,000. It has the essentials: public schools, public library, post office, police station, city hall, etc.
Like so many small towns in America, Wal Mart is the primary place to buy groceries, household products, clothing, automotive and hardware items, and electronics. Fortunately there are some choices: a local pharmacist, an Ace Hardware and a Winn Dixie grocery store. Homes are modest. Poverty is evident.
The RV communities are a major source of income, I’m sure. Entrepreneurs are here daily washing RVs and fixing problems. The town has at least half a dozen gas stations and a couple RV service and supply places. And of course, RVers eat and drink.
Bushnell is a slice of Old Florida — and our “home” for awhile.
