Sentimental Sunday

I have searched through my digital files for a photograph of this old homeplace that shows the southeast corner of the yard from a few years back. This shows most of the yard, but not the entire yard. Hidden by the tree you see on the right, was an ancient Rose of Sharon bush that sat in the corner of the yard.

It is said that many years ago on a particularly cold winter, there were two Bean slaves who died. The ground was frozen so solid in the family cemetery [just across the road and on an knoll] that shovel could not break the ground. The only ground that could be found to be able to dig a grave was in the southeast corner of the front yard.

One one night, one slave died. And within the week, a second followed.

A Rose of Sharon was planted over the grave to keep it sacred and unmarked by any other desecration.

The gloriously large bush [well over 12-feet tall!] was still there in 2001. However, I noticed for the first time in 2007 that the bush was gone. No trace of it remained.

A sad end to an even sadder tale.