Burdette From 1-C But if Maxie and Wetzel Ball weren't exactly sure where they were when they first moved in, they were the only ones who didn't. Anybody who'd ever driven through Longwood and out winding, deserted Markham F Road back 20 years ago knew about Ben Stum's country home and that sprawling, enduring oak that shaded it. Stum's Corner, see, was one of those familiar, welcoming landmarks that told you how far you were from home and which way to turn to get there. Red luminous reflectors decorated the old oak's trunk. So did a couple of hand painted signs. One said, *Stum's Corner" and the other, blue and white, said simply, "Longwood." An arrow pointed the way. In fact, that old Stum's Corner tree was such a landmark that country officials jogged the paved road around it rather than cut it down when they built Range Line Road linking Markham Road and State Road 434. Not only was it a familiar landmark, but that big old tree that marked Stum's Corner was home for more than one family of raccoons. "When we drove by here the first time and saw the "for sale' sign sticking up in the weeds, a raccoon was raising her young out there in the big tree," Mrs. Ball recalled. Then, a few years ago, along came bulldozers and progress. A new subdivision, Devonshire, sprang up right beside Stum's Corner. Down the road toward Longwood, another subdivision, chock full of spacious modern ranch-style homes, went in. So did another and another. The same thing happened up the road. More subdivsions, more homes, more people. Now, Stum's Corner peeks out between two sprawling subdivisions, Devonshire and Tiberon Cove, like a Narcoossee telephone directory sandwiched between two cinderblocks. That's not the only change. Markham Road is no longer Markham Road. It's E.E. Williamson Road, named for a former and deceased Longwood city councilman. The sign that says "Stum's Corner" is gone too. So is the sign that points the way to Longwood. So are the luminous red reflectors. In fact, so is that big old oak. Recently, a work crew cut down the old oak that They share a secret . Maxie and Wetzel marked Stum's Had to. The thing was traffic hazard. Bobby Coker/Sentinel Star Ball know where they live. so aged and brittle it had become a Which means, of course, that these days, there's nothing, nothing at all, to indicate that Stum's Corner ever existed. Still, on a bright weekday morning, you can see Wetzel Ball puttering around out there working in the yard, just like he was still living out in the country. Inside, you can still find Maxie Ball enjoying the things she enjoyed before the world moved in. Namely, knitting and sewing and crocheting. Come spring and summer, progress or no progress, Maxie and Wetzel Ball still can lie in bed at night and listen to the rain drum against the old tin roof; in winter the patter of berries tumble from the big old camphor tree that shades the house, Recently there was talk of a comvenience store going in directly across the street, over there where one of the last old orange groves still stand. "We all opposed that," Mrs. Ball said. "I think we got it stopped." So, for all practical purposes, Stum's Corner, that once-familiar South Seminole County landmark, has vanished. Now all it is is a busy three-way stop. Between subdivisions.