The front bedroom — a king bed dressed in white linen, tall windows on two walls, a chandelier, and an antique armoire with extra blankets inside. The kind of room where you sleep past your alarm without meaning to.
Palatka, Florida · Est. 1871
Hummingbird House
One block from the St. Johns River. A hundred and fifty years from anywhere else.
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Welcome
Some houses you visit. This one takes you in.
Hummingbird House was built in 1871, and for a century and a half it has watched Palatka grow around it. The owners before us gave it the restoration it deserved — down to the studs and back again, with a level of care you can feel the moment you walk in. Twelve-foot ceilings that make every room feel generous. Heart pine floors, warm underfoot, burnished by generations. Original doors with their old knobs. Modern conveniences of a gas fireplace for the evenings that turn cool, and a clawfoot tub deep enough to disappear into, with a chandelier overhead because why not.
Our part is simpler, and we take it seriously: keep this house exactly as good as the people before us left it and have it ready for you. Blankets folded at the foot of each bed. China on the shelves. Little brass lamps that cast the right light at nine o’clock at night. The house is elegant without being fussy. Put your feet up. Open a porch door. This is a home, and while you’re here, it’s yours.
The porch
A long porch runs on the north side of the house, and it is the best room we have.
North-facing means shade — real, deep shade, all day long, even in July. While the rest of Florida is hiding indoors from the afternoon, you’ll be out here with a book and the ceiling fan turning. The wicker chairs rock and sway, deep enough to sink into and stay a while.
And in the early morning, walk out with your coffee. Witness the beauty of each sunrise that comes up over the St. Johns River, and the light coming down the length of the porch floor in a long gold stripe. Hummingbirds arrive in March and stay through September. The house is named for them, and they keep the appointment.
Rest well
Sleeps six.
The second bedroom — a queen bed in soft blue and white gingham, with its own armoire, and the palms outside.
Coming soon
Queen Murphy bed
A photograph will go here once the bed is in.
The upstairs landing — a queen Murphy bed is coming here, at the top of the stairs.
A Pack ’n Play is stored and waiting, so traveling with the baby is one bag lighter.
The full bath is upstairs between the bedrooms, with the clawfoot tub. There’s a half bath downstairs for daytime.
And the linens — we went overboard here on purpose. Heavy, soft, hotel-grade sheets and towels, and plenty of them are fresh for every arrival. A great bed and a great towel are the two things you remember about a house, and we didn’t cut a single corner. No detail was overlooked anywhere in this home.
Eat in, or walk out
The kitchen is genuinely equipped — not the sad rental drawer of bent spatulas, but a real cook’s kitchen. A gas cooktop with a griddle. Sharp knives, heavy pots, mixing bowls, a full spice shelf, coffee ready. Butcher block counters and an island with stools pulled up to it, so whoever is cooking has company. Wide windows over the sink, and light all afternoon.
Out back, a grill on the paver patio and a table under the sky. Fresh shrimp from the coast, corn, a glass of something cold — that’s a perfect Palatka evening, and it costs almost nothing.
Or don’t cook at all. Downtown is a short and pretty walk, past picket fences and front porches, to restaurants where the owner is usually working the room. Breakfast, oysters, barbecue, ice cream. Walk back at dusk with the river going pink.
Room to gather, and room to park
The yard is made for occasions. Fenced and private, with tall palms, native hummingbird flowers and shrubs, a paver patio, an open lawn, and the long porch as a backdrop. Azaleas bloom along the front in late February, bright pink against the white clapboard.
It is, quite simply, a beautiful place to celebrate something. A baby shower with lemonade on the porch. A birthday dinner outside. A mahjong tournament. A bridal luncheon. Photographers find this house on their own — the porch spindles, the picket fence, the palms, the impeccable interior decor. Every corner of this property photographs like a magazine spread, and families have a way of taking their favorite pictures of the year here.
And the driveway is a revelation. Expansive paver parking with room for the RV, the boat trailer, and everyone’s cars all at once, with space left to turn around. Anyone who has tried to park a trailer in a historic downtown knows exactly how rare that is. Arrive with whatever you’re towing and think no more about it. Motorcycles have a covered, secure spot of their own, with a hose nearby for a rinse.
Slow days, on purpose
There is a shelf of real books here, the kind you actually want to read. Board games and playing cards in the cabinet. Wicker chairs that sway, and nothing at all demanding your attention.
Rain is not a problem in this house. Rain is an excuse — a fire in the fireplace, a long game of rummy, something simmering on the stove, and the sound of it coming down on the metal roof overhead.
The front door
The staircase
On the porch
The writing desk
The river is one block away
The St. Johns River is why Palatka exists, and it’s the best reason to come.
Around townThe porch is waiting.
Guests tend to start planning the next visit before they’ve packed the car. Come see why.
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