Southern Agrarianism and the culture of the Old South

Home Sweet Home

When people think of Florida, what usually comes to mind is the tourist image – beaches and Disney World. As you might guess, there is a whole lot more to it than that. I thought it might be nice to share some photos of where I live. Glenwood is an unincorporated area, 5 miles long and 2 miles wide, on the west side of Volusia County. The east side, separated by 12 miles of swamp, is Daytona Beach, and it may as well be in another world. Nothing stays the same, of course: the dirt road I’ve lived on for over 20 years is in the process of being paved – a mixed blessing. Still, it is a great place for a Southern Agrarian to live and watch his family grow up.

None of these photos are of my own property – just photos around Glenwood.

When we go into town, this is it. This is the County Seat.


  1. Joseph E. “Toby” Winston

    A magnificent article that expresses our love for the rural South, her people, her customs, her culture and her grandeur. We live here happily but with the realization that our descendants will not have the opportunities to appreciate freedoms that we so bounteously enjoyed: the change in the dogs’ voices when the coon is treed; the nervous excitement when the bird dog points and the other dogs back him (or her) up, in anticipation of the flush; the free exercise of the Christian faith when we recited the Lord’s Prayer each morning in our home rooms; the teaching of American history from the perspective of our own ancestors’ and not that of some urban, gargantuan city in the Land of Hate; and the love of our Land, our Families; our fellow man and our God. They will never have the opportunity to waive the Rebel flag at an Ole Miss football game, nor sing Dixie at a public gathering.
    My family came to the town, where I live in the fall of 1835. It is between Tupelo, Mississippi, a town that is no longer Southern because of industry, demographics and money, and Oxford, Mississippi, a culture destroyed by Yankee intellectualism.
    Though I doubt it can ever return, I hope it will.

    • Stephen Clay McGehee

      Beautifully said, sir! I’m afraid you’re right – at least for the foreseeable future. The hollow shell of a country (we haven’t truly been a “nation” for a very long time) needs to be swept away before rebuilding can begin. Just as a derelict, condemned building must be torn down and cleared away in order to rebuild, so too must cultures and tyrannies that replace beauty with ugliness be cleared away before the restoration can begin.

  2. Douglas

    I have to fight against the vision I have of Florida, in which New York City-ites who have never said a kind word about the state decide to move there and commence to voting for the same sorts of Socialists that have turned New York into what it is. I also have the recent vision of that stupid girl in Congress slamming Florida’s freedom, only to hop a plane to spend a weekend partying at Miami (no problem, though. Providence, wise and humorous, caught up with her).

    But I also have the vision of of Spanish moss, sweet tea on the porch, Lord’s Day services, long-held and trustworthy friendships . . . old, good Florida.

    • Stephen Clay McGehee

      Both visions of Florida are accurate in their place. South Florida should become a separate state, in my opinion. Though I don’t know how serious they were, I recall discussion in the past about actually making that happen. I suspect that this same situation exists in most other states, as well. Here’s another image of Florida that isn’t seen in the tourism ads. This was taken at our annual family reunion, held at the family farm (my grandparents moved the family here from Alabama in 1921). I’m the tall guy in the green shirt standing next to the column. McGehee family reunion

  3. Douglas Helms

    I too remember “Old Florida”. Barefooted running through cow pastures before having to worry about the scourge of fire ants. Skinny dipping in the creek and digging worms to go catch supper. I know that my grandkids will never know the Florida I grew up in but I dearly hope it doesn’t turn into Kalifornistan or New Yorkovich, although I fear it will. The part of the panhandle in which I live was practically erased by hurricane Michael and yankee money was quick to move in and snap up bargains.

  4. Fugitive Agrarian

    My folks just sold their place in Osceola county (Boggy Creek area) because of the sickening development. This was an equestrian community for decades.

    Everything is for sell. The developer comes in with a crazy price per acre and the benefactors of a landed estate get glazed eyes. Some hold. Some jump. Neighbors values go up. The slow fade begins. All lose.

    We can moan and complain. We can stone wall development. Eventually we have to put our money where our mouth is. We either give up the high values to hold out in our yeoman’s plot, or we get out of dodge and resettle in a remote undesirable plot in the Allegheny highlands among the Amish.

    No matter which, start a farming venture and go hawg. That’ll stall’em for a while. Besides pork bellies are up.

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