The Dogwood

Have you ever felt like the outside world is trying to tell you something? Nature constantly communicates with us. Don’t feel odd if you haven’t noticed. A lot of us have forgotten the language. We have forgotten how to see the signs. Sometimes we need to be reminded.
 
As we wind down these old dirt roads here in the caravan, I want you to notice the trees in full bloom. Do you see them? The buds are giving way to new leaves that will unfurl and grow with each passing day. Some of the branches are already overtaken by beautiful blossoms. The dogwood, in particular, shines radiantly amongst the other species in the forest. The bright distinct petals make this type of tree easy to spot from a distance. The color of the petals is important to note, particularly if it is a purple-blossomed dogwood. When you see such a sight, you can be sure that the nearest graveyard is full, even if it doesn’t appear to be…
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Nearly a century ago, the Tennessee River Valley underwent a massive change that ultimately brought electricity to areas that had, until that point, been unable to access such a luxury. During this time, the United States was trying to claw its way out of the Great Depression, farmers were losing the ability to produce crops as desired, and many people were falling ill with malaria. Change was both imminent and needed. Dams and reservoirs were created throughout the region over a span of 11 years in an attempt to address all of these issues.
 
Life was improved overall, but it wasn’t without sacrifice. Because of the redirection of bodies of water in the Tennessee River Valley, some towns were flooded. Residents were forced to find new homes, but their ancestors could not relocate quite so easily. In preparation for the flooding, bodies had to be dug up and reinterred in new places of rest.
 
During the relocation phase, a crew of workers came to begin clearing out one of these cemeteries that would soon be submerged. Upon their arrival, the workers noticed a woman standing near the entrance. She was weeping while staring at an empty section beyond the headstones. She was unwilling to communicate with anyone, so the men continued with their work. A short time later, she disappeared only to return with a bouquet of wildflowers. She held the flowers as she wept, staring at the same empty place, still without speaking, and made no attempt to move beyond the entrance. No one recognized the distraught woman, so they felt it best to just let her be. Eventually she vanished.
 
The woman never appeared at the cemetery again, but on two separate mornings when the crew arrived to resume their work, items were left in that empty corner of the cemetery. One morning, they found a vase of fresh flowers. Another, their tools were placed where the vase had been. This was especially unnerving as the tools had been locked away in a toolbox at the end of the previous workday. After several days, the crew unearthed and relocated the final body, and they returned home with a bit of relief that they had finished their task and would be heading to a different location in the morning.
 
That night, however, the foreman awoke to see the weeping woman standing in his bedroom. She held wildflowers in her hand, and she spoke for the first time. She begged the foreman, “Please don’t leave my baby there!” before vanishing. It was then that he understood.
 
The next morning, the foreman, against the wishes of his crew, insisted they return one final time before moving to their new location. He led them to the empty corner of the cemetery and told them to dig. Sure enough, after some time, they unearthed the skeleton of a baby who had been buried a few feet deep in an unmarked grave. The baby was placed in a coffin and sent to another cemetery so that it would not be lost forever under the waters of the soon-to-be-flooded valley.
 
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So, remember, the next time that you see that purple dogwood, Mother Nature just might be trying to let any passersby know that the closest burial grounds are full, even if a lack of headstones might suggest otherwise.
 
Sometimes it pays to slow down and listen to the world around you. Reconnect with our shared language. You never know what you may learn.  Take a moment. Breathe in the fresh air. Memorize the sounds of the leaves blowing in the wind and the birds chirping amongst themselves. Observe the world around you, and always look up…sometimes the sky has its own story to tell…
 

Until next time,
Heather
 
 
 


Further reading:
 
Jones, James Gay. Haunted Valley and More Folk Tales of Appalachia. McClain Print. Co., 1997.

Montell, William Lynwood. Ghosts along the Cumberland: Deathlore in the Kentucky Foothills. University of Tennessee Press, 2000.

https://www.cdc.gov/malaria/about/history/index.html
 
https://www.history.com/topics/great-depression/history-of-the-tva