For one resident, living in Sundance is like revisiting a laid-back and carefree childhood.
By MARY WEAVER
Published April 30, 2004
From our front porch, my husband and our children see no glow of city light at night, just stars so bright they seem to dance beyond a twinkle. The silence is interrupted only by resident owls and frogs.
Although nestled in rapidly growing south Hillsborough County, Sundance is a snapshot of Old Florida - a reminder of days gone by when, perhaps, travel by horse was a more sensible means of transportation. We have paved roads within our community now, but a good many of my neighbors still maintain horse and stable. Mankind and nature co-existing as one, that's Sundance.
Sundance is a union of two beautiful,contrasting worlds. It's reminiscent of a Florida long gone with all the creature comforts of the 21st century cradled within its borders. Sundance's pace is slow by choice. Its land and wildlife are plentiful. We receive our energy from an electric cooperative - not TECO. My family watches cable television as raccoons and deer feed in our back yard. We live only minutes away from the Little Manatee River State Park and enjoy boating on the pristine Little Manatee River, the jewel that borders our community. It's full of snook and redfish that find their way to our dinner table about once a week.
As a child, I have fond memories of rustic Hillsborough County and the deserted beaches of Florida's west coast in the late 1960s. Each summer, my family would pack up our white Ford wagon (with wood paneling down each side) and drive from our rural home in Valrico to the beaches of glorious Longboat Key.
We'd spend an idyllic week soaking up the sun and sand by day and playing putt-putt golf in the evenings. There were few, if any, high-rise condominiums or multimillion-dollar homes along the coast 35 years ago. Family-owned motels with names like the Ponderosa or the Sleepy Sailor revealed sparkling white sands and beautiful waters of the gulf.
We'd fish from a small wooden bridge that connected Longboat to St. Armands Key and bring home the day's catch for dinner. Today, that bridge is concrete and pedestrian traffic is prohibited.
When I met my future husband in the early 1980s at Florida State University, we'd burn up Interstate 75 visiting between his home on Anna Maria and mine in Brandon. As the years went by and we became all too familiar with the interstate route, we'd always be drawn to the scrub oak, white sands and wonderful pines that border the interstate, especially near the Hillsborough-Manatee county line.
When we married in 1988, we purchased 21/2 acres in Sundance. My husband played professional baseball for 10 years, and we had lived in most areas of the country. After he retired, we could have chosen to live anywhere. Instead, we were drawn back to the beauty of Florida and the rural lifestyle of the country.
Living in Sundance is like revisiting my childhood. Carefree and laid-back, Sundance feels like the last vestige of a lifestyle long past, when U.S. 301 was king of the road and the Old Florida in our memory remains.
- Weaver lives on Stagecoach Trail.
- We're looking for readers to tell us, in 400 words or less, why you live where you live. Please include your likes and dislikes. Send essays to brandon@sptimes.com and please include a daytime phone number.
