Caroline Murrel A Leaf of History

A Leaf of History Caroline Murrel

Some of my fondest childhood memories consist of playing with my neighbors outside of the house I grew up in. We’d play countless games-- kickball, tag, basketball, hide and seek-until the sun set and our parents called us inside. I remember one specific game, where we’d climb trees together and play with the neighborhood cats; we’d pretend we were “runaways” along with our “pets.” I grew up in Forest, Virginia: a small town in the heart of the state, nestled right next to the Appalachian Mountains. My home here sat right on top of the fields which at one time connected to Thomas Jefferson’s summer home. According to Poplarforest.org, as many as 94 slaves resided at Poplar Forest during Jefferson’s 53 years there. There are three known slave quarters that were located at Poplar Forest: North Hill, Quarter Site, and Site A. The information known about the slaves and the slave quarters have been compiled through various letters and artifacts found by archaeologists. The property was used by Jefferson as a personal retreat and a plantation to generate extra revenue. The slave labor at Poplar Forest generated tobacco and wheat crops. There’s one object I brought with me from my backyard when I moved homes: a single leaf from the big poplar tree in my front yard. This tree sat near the road, in a direct line from the window in my bedroom. I often spent days under the tree drawing pictures, reading books and talking with my friends. Sometimes I’d admire how massive the tree was and wonder at how long it’s been there, and how many people before me had touched its bark. My neighborhood friends-- Nathan and Jordan-- and I would often take our scooters and bikes and ride up and down the road in front of our houses. We’d race from one end to another over and over again. Nathan and Jordan also both learned how to skateboard and would spend hours practicing while I watched in admiration. When it’d snow, roughly once or twice a year, we’d go to my neighbor Nathan’s house and sled down his steep backyard all day. Snow ramps would shoot us far up into the air, and then we’d fall right back into the fluffy snow. One time, we got so much snow that we built an igloo in my friend Jordan’s driveway. According to Poplarforest.org, the oldest slave building was North Hill. When archaeologists searched the place, they found burned seeds and animal bones, woodworking and farming tools, several silver Spanish coins, and personal items such as buttons, shoe buckles, and beads. The largest buildings were found at the Quarter Site. Site A was located 100 miles away from the house and was used up until the Civil War. Many slaves were born and also died on the property during Jefferson’s time at Poplar Forest-- the burial sites were never found. I’ve kept the leaf safe with me ever since I moved to Michigan; it sits safely on my dresser. Long after I left that small town in Virginia, and after I grew up a bit, I realized how important that poplar tree actually is. I slowly discovered the dark history that laid across the land I so innocently played on. That tree has been growing in that spot for no less than 250 years and reminds everyone who sees it that the horrors that took place on this land were not that long ago.