My sister Lynn and I drove down to
Dogwood Lodge yesterday, and all the memories of living there for a year (1971-72) rushed back as we rumbled across the little bridge and into the heart of of the property, in her tiny 1991 Mazda convertible with the top down. The original Lodge (where Zelda Fitzgerald was known to attend parties, a fact confirmed yesterday by Laura, the great-great granddaughter of the owners) tragically burned to the ground, a victim of wicked Alabama lightning, twenty years ago. The great room was subsequently partially reconstructed around the original walk-in fireplace, where I'm standing with a drawing of the original Lodge (one of a numbered edition of 50, by Sue Blackshear-Bowen). When I lived there, we used all four screened-in porches on the upper level, and I gave piano lessons on my beloved Kawai piano in the huge great room, to pay for my second year at the University of Alabama. We sometimes cowered from seriously large snakes prone to hanging out in the dark bathroom, lounging on one of the enormous logs and peering down. Huge red wasps were also attracted, year-round, to the Lodge---living there was a lot like camping out, but in a spectacular structure. The Lodge was notorious for annual pig roasts that became parties stretching out for days on end, fueled by beer and rock music, and occasional recordings of Stockhausen (
Momenté was the one I used), to vary the sonic ambience---always an adventure to see how long that would last. Thankfully there are still gatherings of owners and their friends and family every year in this relatively untouched paradise of forest, creek, and wildlife.
My sister Lynn and I drove down to Dogwood Lodge yesterday, and all the memories of living there for a year (1971-72) rushed back as we rumbled across the little bridge and into the heart of of the property, in her tiny 1991 Mazda convertible with the top down. The original Lodge (where Zelda Fitzgerald was known to attend parties, a fact confirmed yesterday by Laura, the great-great granddaughter of the owners) tragically burned to the ground, a victim of wicked Alabama lightning, twenty years ago. The great room was subsequently partially reconstructed around the original walk-in fireplace, where I'm standing with a drawing of the original Lodge (one of a numbered edition of 50, by Sue Blackshear-Bowen). When I lived there, we used all four screened-in porches on the upper level, and I gave piano lessons on my beloved Kawai piano in the huge great room, to pay for my second year at the University of Alabama. We sometimes cowered from seriously large snakes prone to hanging out in the dark bathroom, lounging on one of the enormous logs and peering down. Huge red wasps were also attracted, year-round, to the Lodge---living there was a lot like camping out, but in a spectacular structure. The Lodge was notorious for annual pig roasts that became parties stretching out for days on end, fueled by beer and rock music, and occasional recordings of Stockhausen (Momenté was the one I used), to vary the sonic ambience---always an adventure to see how long that would last. Thankfully there are still gatherings of owners and their friends and family every year in this relatively untouched paradise of forest, creek, and wildlife.
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