Is this a farm in South Tampa, or a time warp to the Confederate South?

Marion Lambert sits near the wood-burning stove in his living room. There's an outhouse in back, 1,000 chickens, dozens of dairy cows, steer and hogs, all in the middle of would-be posh South Tampa.McMansion neighbors occasionally drive their sedans through mud and what they say is manure, tracked into the streets by Lambert's scratched and dented Dodge pickup.This is South Tampa Farm. It's no petting zoo or field trip. It's four acres tucked between swimming pools and perfect lawns, a stone's throw from bustling MacDill Avenue. Some years back, the cows got loose and ended up on Bayshore Boulevard.He sells milk, eggs, meat and honey by the honor-system. His customers drop cash in a box and take what they want. If they're short, they square up later.Bringing people together in peace, however, is not what Lambert is known for. This year marks the 10th anniversary since he led the effort to raise the massive and, for many, mortifying 30-by-50-foot Confederate flag — then the world's largest — which still flies over Interstate 75 near Interstate 4.