Small, as in 575 square feet, not counting the 340-square-foot metal shed he converted to quaint tropical guest quarters out back.
"I don't need much," explains Jones, 46, the former golf pro at Hunter's Green in New Tampa. "Just a bedroom, bath and a kitchen."
A guy thing, sort of.
You might believe his bare-essentials argument if he didn't decorate like a dream, on a shoestring.
The divorced father of two and serious triathlete transformed what was once "a shack" deep in the heart of Ballast Point into an indoor-outdoor living space that has that romantic, just-rubbed-with-bay-rum texture of a Tommy Bahama ad.
The inside of the Lilliputian guest cottage where his two teenage daughters like to stay is all about tropical comfort and folk art - collecting it is his hobby. Bright, unframed canvases, many by Florida outsider artists, hang in unexpected places, including over the doorway. He divided the space with bamboo shades and created rough-looking floors (he doesn't like anything to look too perfect "because the world isn't prefect") with inexpensive wood siding he laid over concrete.
The result is pure storybook. Even his sunny countenance is that of the hero of a children's book. He delights in buying furniture on the side of the road, leaving birds' nests in his trellises, plucking a beautiful jasmine plant from a trash heap.
What his home lacks in size it makes up for in the gardens, decks and winding paths Jones created from practically nothing.
He did it all himself, too.
He finds plants on the side of the road, ponds at garage sales and 300-year-old tree stumps at demolition sites. He built the outdoor bar, benches and covered sitting area that provides relief on blazing, sunny days. Mounds of impatiens bloom in bold crayon colors in front, and carved alligator benches create a sense of whimsy. A hand-scrawled sign says "Welcome to my House."
Inside the main house, he sectioned off a bedroom with vintage French doors. He laid pine planks on the floors and covered them with worn Oriental rugs.
Two years ago, when Jones was house hunting, he told friends he wanted "the smallest house on the largest lot" he could find. Driving around Ballast Point one day, he happened upon this scrappy little cottage next to a 1912 farmhouse, and called the real estate agent, a friend.
He practically bought it on the spot.
The before pictures tell the story: a plain-Jane wooden house with a metal shed out back. The yard was a jigsaw of grass and dirt.
Actually more dirt than grass.
The before is ho-hum.
The after is ooh-la-la.
The magic is all Jones.
"You just have to be able to see where a piece of property can go, what you can do with it," he says. "When I walked around this house for the first time, I could actually feel it."
He gets his green thumb from his mother, Nell Jones, 78, an ardent lifelong gardener, flower show judge and former president of the Tampa Federation of Garden Circles.
He gets his will to go on from lessons he has learned in this life, the most recent from his cat. The husky, orange tabby that slinks around the yard and begs to have his head scratched started off as a stray beggar.
Jones ignored him for as long as he could.
"I said I'm not feeding you, because I know what that means - you'll keep coming back," he recalls.
Finally Jones' girlfriend put a dish of food outside.
The cat stayed, and Jones christened him Felix.
"I learned the biggest lesson of my life from that cat," he says. "He just wouldn't give up. He kept coming back and coming back."
Jones knows a little something about that.
A few years ago while riding his bike along MacDill Avenue, Jones was hit by a car. The hit-and-run accident left him with severe head injuries and a long recovery.
"I was in pretty bad shape for a while," he says.
These days, that's all behind him. He works in the electrical department at Home Depot in Pinellas Park "because I'm fascinated with Home Depot" and trains for four Ironman Triathlons a year. (Competitors swim 2.4 miles, bike 112 miles and run 26.2 miles.)
He's ranked 161st in his age group in the country.
New projects await: He just purchased an 1897 farmhouse, also in Ballast Point, that he plans to restore. Jones, who grew up in Beach Park, is mad about his newfound neighborhood.
Take a drive with him and he'll show you: He loves the canopies of oaks, the farm stands, the wild-looking lots, the dead-end streets, the Cracker houses, the pockets of old Florida.
He likes the way people stop their cars in front of his house, once just a little shack before he charmed it into a tiny tropical paradise.
"A lot of times when I'm out working in front, people stop and ask if they can walk around my garden," he says. "I guess they're surprised to see this here."
