Juliette, Florida: The Ghost Town Between Love and Limestone

Where Memory Drifts Like Spanish Moss
📍 Rainbow Springs State Park | 📆 Originally posted: September 1, 2024

Let me take you to a place that doesn’t appear on most maps anymore.

A place caught somewhere between a legend and a lost ZIP code.
Where once, wagons rolled and sawmills sang, now there’s only the hush of water, the chirp of frogs, and the feeling that you’re being watched by time itself.

Welcome to Juliette, Florida.
Two miles north of Dunnellon. Two miles south of its ghost-town sibling, Romeo. And if that isn’t poetic déjà vu, I don’t know what is.

The Spark that Started the Fire

Juliette was born in the 1850s, back when “settling down” involved more sweat and fewer throw pillows.
Captain Samuel Agnew cleared the land near Blue Springs and planted sea cotton, staking his claim as Juliette’s first full-time resident and unofficial mayor of “Yep, this’ll do.”

By the late 1800s, Juliette had bloomed into a bona fide community—with a railroad depot, sawmill, general stores, a post office, and even a hotel perched right at Blue Springs. You could buy supplies, catch a train, mail a letter, and enjoy a nice cold dip—all in one day. Beat that, Buc-ee’s!

In 1883, it became official: Juliette was incorporated, inked into the Florida Gazetteer and everything. For a town that size, that was like getting your own star on the sidewalk of the Citrus Belt.

For an even more detailed account of the town of Juliette, watch my video below:

💔 Romeo & Juliette: Tragic Love or Tourist Bait?

Now, you might’ve heard a tale or two about a star-crossed romance between a boy from Romeo and a girl from Juliette. Sounds suspiciously Shakespearean, right?

Legend says their families feuded, their hearts collided, and—spoiler alert—it didn’t end well.
But alas, like many good ghost town legends, this one’s more front-porch folklore than documented history.

Still… you can’t help but feel a little tug on your heartstrings walking between these two towns. Even if it’s just Murph playing with the compass again.

⛏️ Boomtown Dreams, Busted Seams

Juliette’s peak came in the 1890s, a time when sawmills roared, general stores clinked, and the cotton still held court.

But just when things were going great—phosphate fever hit.
Farmers traded plows for pickaxes, chasing the promise of fast cash in the mines. Agriculture waned, and by 1926, the post office locked its doors for good. When the mailbox goes, the soul usually follows.

As the 1930s rolled in, Blue Springs began its next act: reinvention. Renamed Rainbow Springs to entice tourists on the newly paved Highway 41, it leaned into the Floridian flair: glass-bottom boats, mermaid shows, and gator snapshots galore.

🏰 Rise and Fall of Rainbow Springs Amusement Park

Rainbow Springs, once Blue Springs, turned into a full-blown roadside spectacle—complete with monorails, waterfalls, a jungle zoo, and the delightfully named “Underwater Cruise.”

It was the kind of place where families stopped for gas and left with cotton candy and a sunburn.

But the magic dimmed in 1974 when I-75 siphoned away the tourists. The park shuttered, the laughter faded, and nature quietly took back what was hers.

🌿 Today: Whispers, Waterfalls, and What Remains

Today, Rainbow Springs is a state park—lush, lovely, and full of echoes.
You’ll find waterfalls still tumbling, nature trails breathing with memory, and remnants of the old amusement park nestled like artifacts in the underbrush.

Somewhere in the restricted corners of the park lies the Juliette Cemetery, with four known graves and a whole lot of untold stories. You can’t visit it, but knowing it’s there feels like a secret handshake with history.

The water here stays 72° year-round—so yes, you can swim like it’s 1931. Or kayak, or tube, or just float while pondering phosphate prices and star-crossed lovers.

🏕️ My Visit: History, Heartbeats, and a Little Bit of Mud

I walked the old nature trail, through the zoo ruins where bobcats and deer once blinked behind bars. The waterfalls still cascade, camera-ready and full of drama.

Camping overnight here? Highly recommend. Something about sleeping near the bones of a lost town makes your dreams a little weirder in the best way.

And entry? Just $2. Two bucks for waterfalls, ghost stories, and the scent of old cotton and crushed pine needles in the air? That’s a bargain, friend.

If you’re chasing ghosts, forgotten roads, or just the thrill of finding something hidden in plain sight, Juliette’s waiting. Or at least… what’s left of her.

See the photos from my visit to Rainbow Springs State Park here.